I usually watch, listen to the TV every night while lying in bed before I drift off to sleep. WLRN is like one of the PBS stations here in SOFLA and I tend to have that on thinking I will learn some shit through osmosis while I am sleeping. The other night the Osmond Brother’s were on. I know damn well all yall fools have seen them at least once in your life. Hell I’m so old I remember the show they used to have on when I was a child. Anyway, they are old and crap, but they still have some good old Mormon moves baby! They were all shaking their asses all over and moving and gliding, and sliding all over the stage while turning and spinning, and singing and hell I was just all impressed and shit! There were people in the audience just singing along and trying to shake their asses but they are white, so you know what they must have looked like.

On a lighter note, I just learned the Red Headed Fool called me “unstable” and warned an ex-coworker not to talk to me any longer. I really want to drive down there and bust into the office and tell that Red Headed Fool a thing or two. I really don’t think I have got all drunk, had a kid, and been served papers from the baby daddy at my office, or lied to patients saying the thermal burns all over their dogs body was an allergic reaction, or make my staff starve, or how about just being a control freaking fool! What the fuck!? Oh well I’m not going to say anything about my being “unstable” because I fucking damn well know I am “on the beam” bringing my A game where ever I go. And who wants to be stable in the first place? I don’t lie, cheat, steal, kill, have sex, eat red meat, drink, hunt, vote for assholes, spend money on stupid shit, or own any Osmond Brother’s CD’s but thinking about it, so does all this make me a bad person? I don’t fucking think so Dr. Red Headed Fool!

Must get on with what I was doing! Which was watching the Osmaonds shake that ass!

Late!

I thought to myself what kind of woman would come to work on a Monday morning with glitter all over her face and chest and does not work at a strip bar, teaches kindergarten, or is in some sort of theatrical performance. Well it’s the kind of 44 year old woman who had three small white dogs and puts glitter on them as well as dyes them with food coloring, “cuz it’s safe, and if I can do it to my body, I can do it to them, and they like it!” I’m like okay, I guess, but not really. In the blue room, which is not even blue there is a cat that we need to pull blood on, and get some urine. I pull the blood while Glitter Girl is holding the cat. In the Green Room, which is not green, there is a dog that needs a bandage change. Little Miss Glitter Girl holds the dog while I remove the old bandage and get the material ready for the new bandage. I walk away and look for the bandage material, which took longer than necessary due to the fact shit is all over the hospital in Tupperware containers stacked all over the place, and moved every 30 minutes because the glitter has gone to this girls head! I look down and see something shiny on my shirt. It’s fucking glitter! I have glitter all over my ass! I look like I have just come back from Angles Disco and the year is 1989. I’m pissed off! I will have this damn glitter all over me for the rest of my life! It will get in my hair, my eyes, my ears, my nose, and then it will appear in my apartment in the carpet, and on my cat, and the neighbors cat, and in my car, and I will leave traces of where I have been for the rest of the week because this 47 year old woman wears glitter to work all over her fucking body like she is going to the disco, or the fucking roller rink! Twice a week she would do this. On those days I would say to her, “Look, you can either hold all the animals and I will pull blood, or I will hold and you pull, but I aint going to be mixing it up because I am not going to walk around with glitter all over me today, and the rest of the week!” She would at that point say, “Uh-huh” and walk away. From the first “uh-huh” you knew your ass was in trouble. This meant one thing and one thing only. Complete and total shut down. When ever I would ask as question to Glitter Girl and the response I got back was “uh-huh” I knew that myself  nor anyone else in the hospital could talk to her. I mean you could talk, but the only thing she was going to say was “uh-huh.” She was in shut down mode. This would last for two to three hours, sometimes the rest of the d ay. At first I was bothered by all of this silence business, but after a couple of weeks, I was glad! I did not have to hear her talk about crap she did over the weekend which usually consists of going to some Jamaican club and spreading glitter all over the place! I bet they put down plastic whenever she walked in the door. All the Rasta’s with glitter in their dreads.  Or the weekend she put food coloring all in her Maltese hair and glitter on his chest. I wonder if she had all her pets colored different colors, and dipped in glitter and had reggae dance hall parties on the weekends, and never went to the club at all because they banned her from the club because of the over use of glitter? She was also on some special diet. She would go to the Texaco station and get a big as bag of nuts of trail mix. She would sit in an exam room with the lights out and eat one nut at a time. No shit, it would take her a minute to eat 5 nuts! And speaking of shitting she would bring her own pine sol cleaner diluted down so she could take a big stinking nutty crap and clean up with her own cleaning product. Glitter Girl would not share anything. She used to put her keys in a drawer in the cabinet every morning. I came along and put my keys, phone, and wallet in the same drawer. At first she would divide the drawer so my Hello Kitty keys would not touch her raggedy ass keys. I would watch this go down go over and mix the shit right up again. This went on for a week, and then she moved her shit over to another closet. Yes, you know damn well I would still go over and move her stuff around. Glitter Girl was the Queen of organization! She would have the IV catheters with the bandage scissors, and the tape on the other side of the room and the cap for the catheters somewhere in an exam room. Then in the next 30 minutes she would have all the shit moved to different locations then where they were in the first place! One day we had 2 hit by cars and a kidney failure walk in all within 30 minutes of each other. I just sat there holding the poodle because I knew if I had to go looking for shit to get the dogs stable I would have killed her, and there would have been two hit by cars, a kidney failure, and a murder!  

He is a very tall thin man with brownish reddish hair with brown little eyes. The kinds of little brown eyes you know are hiding something, or a bunch of something’s. He is about as arrogant as they come; a true Mister Know It All Motherfucker who don’t know shit about anything other that what’s up his own ass. Totally delusional about the lack of respect the staff has for him or each other for a matter of fact. Thinks he is the Bill Motherfucking Gates of North Miami. Walks around wearing Levi jeans that are so loose he could grab the ass of them and wipe his own nose, and a scrub shirt usually starched. Who in the fuck starches scrub shirts? He walked around like a rooster. Yep a big old cock he was, strutting his shit all over the place trying to mount all the hens that came in wearing little white linen see through thong revealing beach dresses. He was always hitting on the clients, but as soon as they would pay the bill, he would talk shit about their legs, or how their ass was too big, or the fake boobs they had. Apparently he has not been with a woman that has had real tits since his baby’s mamma. None of the hens knew he had a kid until the day I took the picture of the little chick, and the big ole cock and hung it on the fridge so all the fresh hens could see it! He kept the baby hidden from everyone he was trying to get a blow job from, or that was willing to give him a blow job so they could get a few bucks knocked off their bill. He enjoyed the fact that I was smart so we could argue all the time. He hated the word argue but loved the word pontificate. I had to use that all the time with his dumb ass. He knew animals, I knew words, news, sports, music, people, and even drew a section for the cabinet maker so he knew what the hell Doc was trying to explain to him. He never knew what to think of me except for the fact I was not fuckable to him, and he could tell me all kinds of shit he wanted, to do, or did do with clients. Like I wanted to hear that shit. My second day there we are in surgery for 7 hours. He was shocked that I still knew my way around the room. “It’s like riding a bike Dick Face!”  That was a few of the thought’s I would have in my head. It was 9:45pm when we finished up in surgery. I had had fucking enough and remember it is only day 2 for me. Little Miss Methodical was the one who left the heating disks in the microwave, not me, why the fuck was I here on St. Patrick’s Day? Shit, I missed St. Patrick’s Day, and I was still kind of sneaking drinks at this point, so I had to go and get my drink on! I was off the day after the 7 hour ordeal, and a hangover to boot. I went back to work the following Thursday and I learned that during an emergency c-section a dog bit the tip of his finger off, no more cutting for this fool for at least 6 to 8 weeks! I had been saved! If I would have had to spend one more day in surgery with this fool, I would have been taken out in cuffs! Which at this point I will fast forward to our last day in surgery. The Red Head Raven thought his finger was good enough to do a mass removal. I’m pissed because I don’t have a thing ready in surgery and trying to find a 15 blade was like finding a needle in a hay stack! He told me to calm down. I say to him, “Calm my ass, I have never worked in a place in my life where shit get’s moved around every 20 minutes! What kind of place is this? I should be able to come in here and set up for open heart surgery if I had too and do it in less than 5 minutes!” Now I am pissed, and I have to tell him I am leaving, so then I add, “I have left this place laughing, I have left pissed off, and I have left crying, and this time, I am leaving! For Good! Your staff is wacked, it’s unorganized chaos around here, I’ve lost 10 pounds in a month my face is all broken out, and I’ve managed to stay sober during all of this, and I’m gone!” He stood there looking at me like he had just been hit in the face. I did feel like hitting him in the face but he is pretty thin and I did not want to drop his ass so I piped down. He just said he wanted to talk to me before I left. Hell when it is time for me to leave, I fucking just don’t stand around and wait for your ass, I get to steppin’! The fool calls me on my cell. It’s after work; I’m in the car, and off the clock and I aint talking about no work shit. The next day I try to call his skinny ass back not once, but twice. I go into work the day after and he is no where to be found. He wont come in but tells the other Doc to have me call him. She does this a bit after noon. I have worked my ass off up until the point where we get caught up. She calls me into the office and tells me that I have to leave the building now. I gave notice within my 90 day probation period and I have to go now. “I get to go home now?! Sweet, I can still lay out! I can have lunch! I never have to come back?! Sweet! I turn around and run out of the office with my hands up in the air running down the hallway into room 1, then into room 2, then room 3. I pass through reception still running and swing back down the hallway into x-ray, then into surgery, and back into prep. It was so fucking fun I did it one more time! I ended up in the back of reception looking at the camera with a big smile on my face. Then I shot it the bird and the victory laps had ended and so had I. Part III to come. There is much more to tell!

I knew when I walked into the door there was going to be trouble. There was shit all over the place along with dogs barking, and as I passed a door on my right there were cats in boxes that looked as if they were from the 50’s era, all meowing. I was soon met by this woman I swore was in her 60’s. She walked right by me giving me this glare that would melt ice. A few seconds later I learned it was her 41^st birthday. Damn the bad luck. The woman never spoke to me. As I walk into the central prep area there was more shit all over the floor and the counter tops. The place was in construction I guess, or at least that is what they told me. For the entire month I never saw anyone doing any kind of work there. Fed-ex would just leave big ass boxes outside the door and drive away. Right away I was given a dog to hold. He was a cute little white dog. He was all fucking messed up. Large wounds covered half of his body. I held the dog while the rather methodical tech half assed attempted to clean his wounds and wrap his up like a mummy. I later learned the methodical tech put heating disks in the microwave long enough to cook a 12 pound pot roast and the little mummified dog had thermal burns. The owners where told it was an allergic reaction. A dirty stinking rotten lie was told and believed. It’s 3:30pm and I have been on my feet since 8am. I’m covered in flea dirt from some dirt bag mutt I just wrestled, I’m starving and there is no one even talking about lunch. I’m about to pass out. I sneak out to my car and chow on a granola bar. I work till 8:30pm. A few pounds and days later I am walking to the Texaco station to see what junk I could find there. Just 5 days prior I was in paradise with a fucking gourmet deli next door, now I’m in the fucking hood with brothers in late model whips with big ass tires and shit trying to run my starving ass over, or blow my ears ear with some boot leg radio station from Miami blasting so loud it could have been recorded on the Richter scale. Needless to say they did not have Arizona Ice Tea Arnold Palmer Half and Half Lite at the Texaco and the entire situation made me loose my shit real fast. Another day I encountered a new tech’s assistant. I was holding the little white dog for bandage change number 5000. Just trying to make small talk I asked him where he worked before, and for how long. He said to me, “I don’t discuss my previous work history.” No fucking lie, this guy actually said this to me. I felt like handing him the dog and walking out, but I had to ask where he came from because it was apparent he had no fucking clue how to clean a wound, and wrap a little white dog into a mummy no more than my ass did! Later in the week I had to ask questions, I was always asking questions because working in this office was like working at MIT with no instructions on how all the high tech equipment worked. It took 20 minutes to set up the lab equipment to transfer results of a 4DX from one machine to another while in real time I could have had the results for 15 or 20 4DX test ran and recorded. I asked Miss Little Methodical Tech to show me how to operate the Frankenstein 3000 x-ray machine one day. “Not now! Not now! I’m busy! I can’t talk to you or anyone else! I can’t be bothered with you!” I started looking for Alfred Hitchcock at this point. Hell I was even looking for hidden cameras. I later learned she had a very tragic mishap in her life and she was totally ignoring doctors orders to be heavily sedated and instead chose to torture everyone she came in contact with every hour of every day. Two weeks into this hellish job I have lost a crap load of weight and I drank enough coffee for all the residents in a nursing home watching Wheel of Fortune for a week.

Part II coming soon.

make sure my head was right before doing so.

So I have this new job right, yes another job. Since July I
guess I have had 4 different jobs. It’s cool; at least I have a job. Anyway
that is not what this blog is about. Since the work I do gives me ample time
off, sometimes every other day, sometimes three or four days off in a row, I
have time to do the things I day dream about at work. Yes, I daydream at work.
For instance I caught myself in a room the other day running my fingers inside
one of 1the hard curls plastered on my head daydreaming about I have no earthly
idea. I was just standing there and all I heard was music from an ice cream
truck playing in my head along with thoughts of birds and flowers and children
running about screaming at the top of their little lungs. There were dogs and
cat’s and butterflies all around, and then I heard, “Courtney, Courtney, did you
get that? Clavamox drops 1ml twice a day until gone.” And at that moment I was
back in reality. Back to the blog…..So I get to watch a crap load of TV. My
driving days are done for a while. If I don’t REALY have to go someplace where
I can’t walk, I DON’T GO! I drive to the library, but I am going to stop doing
that also. I can walk here in 20, 25 minutes tops. My drive time to work is
only 17 minutes, and that’s due to a crap load of stop lights. If I do happen
to catch the train, I can get there in no time becaue all the lights are green,
and I can fly! I walk to mass, I walk to the store. I walk to the hardware
store where I hang out at. So I got a digital converter box for my TV, (I had
to drive to target to get it).  Sucks big
time but, anyway back to the blog. I love reality TV. It’s like cool to see
what other people are doing. I used to hate  America’s Next Top Model, but I
love it now. When I had cable all I did was watch MTV, stupid reality show
after another, day in and day out. Now I have a big problem. I want to put Chef
Ramsey’s head in a pot of boiling water till his skin falls off and over boils
onto the stove top then scrape it off and run it down the garbage disposal. Now
THIS is what this blog is all about! Never in my entire life has a person made
me so angry. Plus the way the other people talk about one another on the show.
I mean is it really necessary to call someone you are working with in that
close proximity a bitch, and think all those negative thoughts out loud on
world wide TV? Must he yell and scream and humiliate everyone on the show? What
the hell is wrong with this man? What the hell is wrong with the producers of
this show, as well as the network for even airing such a despicable lured mess!

The clients at the new job are so funny. They are quite
welcome to come back to treatment and hang out with us. They bring us meatloaf,
and all kinds of crap to eat which is good because we never actually get to
clock out for lunch. I have learned to eat things while going from one room to
the next, or going back to the back to pick up one pet or another. They are
really funny people. As soon as I get to know them a bit better there will be
short stories them and their pets.

I’m very excited about the summer semester. I get to do what
I should have done all along. Write, read, and think about writing and reading.
I am taking two classes so far, but if I can afford it I will take a third. I
want to hurry and graduate so I can run off to FIU, or if I happen to get a
scholarship to St. Thomas University I will gladly go there Ava .Maria University would be wonderful but I don’t quite have the ching to go there, nor do I want to move, unless I do go to Randolph in VA. The bottom line is I am ready to get into a classroom and share some stories, and better yet drag stories out of people!

Well that’s the badest thing I got, so have a great day
Peoples!

I really want a beer

A delirium tremens beer

And some scotch

A kick ass jukebox

A fine ass due too smart for his own good

How about some DJ Shadow, Z Trip and Portishead

I feel like running

Or riding my bike really fast

The wind in my hair along with some bugs in my teeth

Don’t tell me what meeting I can’t go to

He’s a fucking Tard anyway

The shit just don’t work that way

Attitude, Fuck attitude

It aint worth two cents in my pocket

Squash it fast whatever it may be

Life is just a fucking dream anyway

A quick vivid colorful fucking nightmare

It haunts you every night till you wake up to pop tarts

The sun shines in her window

It aint dark yet but it’s her bedtime

Put some ghetto foil on the windows I say

Screw the condo association

The fucks just steal your money anyway

It needs to rain and wash all the bullshit away

I miss the smell of horse shit and the sunrise

Stolen boots full of sand from the shed row

Pitchforks hang neatly on the barn walls

Finches fly from nest to nest

Mexicans selling tamales

The call to post

Be impeccable with your word.

Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to spread gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love. Nothing others do is because of you. What others do and say is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When one is immune to the opinions and actions of others, one won’t be the victim of needless suffering. Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness, and drama. Ones best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when one is healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance simply do your best, and one will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse, and most of all regret.

If I only really “got that”.

<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />.. ..

.. ..

.. ..

..............................

Ah March has arrived and it flippin cold outside! I have a
sunburn from just two days ago! Turn the ac off, and the heat on!

.. ..

Quick update time I guess.

.. ..

Not a damn thing is going on here. Things are boring.  I guess since I am in recovery I guess things
boring are good things, but there are times I miss the damn adventure! Last
night, or this morning I guess, I wanted to get out of the house so damn bad!
It was 1am and my only options were, Kelly’s Irish Pub, Mickey Burns Irish Pub
(which does not know the wrath of Tipsey), Ginger Bay Café, PRL, Circle K for
gas station nachos (I fucking love gas station nachos), Jacks (Earl has me
craving pancakes), The Dog Track Casino better known as Mardi Gras, or I could
have walked around the hood and maybe got offered to buy some crack.

.. ..

At least I would have got to kick the living daylights out
of the crackhead.

.. ..

I guess I have 4 months into this new way of life thing. I
remember my first 2 to 3 months I was so fucking happy all the time. Now the
happiness has worn off and the boredom has set in. I’m still really fucking
happy I am sober, don’t get me wrong, but where are all the adventurous people
at?

.. ..

There are times when I need to go and do something and I can’t
make up my mind what to do. I think way to much about what it is I need to do.
When I was drunk I would judt flip a coin, or forget about the entire thing and
just go drink. It seemed as if I never really thought to hard about the
situation at hand in the first place. Now I never get a fucking thing done due
to the fact I fucking think every over and over at all kinds of angles, and
shit.

.. ..

There are times I feel like a little round ball with a bunch
of other balls and I am pulled out and a voice yells, “B 32, does anyone have
B32? Then I get put back in with all the other balls and we all start to spin
again.

.. ..

It is working, the sober thing that is. I went to bed a spot
angry, and woke up pissed at the television. I was also pissed at a bunch of
shit that happened to me many years ago. I decided to go and hear some other
folks talk about shit, and it worked. I feel great now. I’m just fucking hungry
as hell and I need to go and eat before I step off the beam.

.. ..

There are 26 phone calls I have to make to lawyers in ....California..... One of them
could be my Father. That is kind of exciting. Calling the California Bar office
was a trip. It was only 9am there and the people on the telephones were fucking
mad as hell!

.. ..

Me: Hello, I’m trying to locate my father, and I have a fist
name, and……

.. ..

Lady on other end: What! What are you doing? He was a what?

.. ..

Me: Yes, a lawyer in 1968 and……

.. ..

Lady on the other end: I can’t help you, you need.

.. ..

Me: If you would just hear me out, I’m trying to tell you
what I need and you keep cutting me off, may I talk now?

.. ..

Lady on the other end: Oh sorry, I will connect you now.

.. ..

The other lady on the other end: Hello, may I help you?

.. ..

Me: I’m trying to locate my Father and he was an attorney in
....Los Angeles....…..

.. ..

The other lady on the other end: (yelling into the phone) My
computer is down, I can’t help you!   

.. ..

Me: Well is the server down, or is it just your computer? Is
this information online, do I really need you and your computer?

.. ..

The other lady on the other end: It is online.

.. ..

Me: Well sorry about your computer, try to reboot, or talk a
walk outside and get some fresh air. Thank you!

.. ..

Sheesh! Talk about aggravated people. I guess the traffic
there does a number on some people!

.. ..

I must go and eat. If I get to hungry all hell will break
loose!

.. ..

Its funny how at times there are things that we want so bad and without thinking we make up our minds to get whatever it was that we wanted. It could be a number of things, jobs, cars, money, sex, food and things we never really imagined we ever wanted.

Then the reality starts to happen, if we are lucky.

For some it never sets in and then all at once we are reminded that we never really wanted it at all. How does this happen? One second we are all giddy as hell over some car, job, or person and the next minute we are either thrown into the gates of hell, or the gates of heaven open up to us. We think we are in bliss!

I have a pal at work who just kept saying, “God is trying to punish you!” I don’t think she is a religious person anyway, but if she that's coool also but she got the ball rolling in my head as she always does and I began to think about what I was doing and what I stand for and what I want in my life and the way about which I do so in order to get those things. I love her for this! Damn Her!

Honestly I think God was ready to take little Bailey into doggie heaven, and I was very glad that he did at the time that he did and yes it did slow down what I had going on in my life at that time, but damn the man is H-O-T HOT!

I do compare every single last man I meet and think that I would really like to engage in a relationship with to “you know who”.  It’s very hard to find a person that I click with in the first place, but then again I am turning into some person I don’t even know yet, and it scares me at times, but other times I love who I am becoming, and this person is pretty damn close to “you know who”.

But do I really want to take my religious beliefs and play with them?

Today is Ash Wednesday, my second Ash Wednesday. As I heard Father speaking today it reminded me of what I really stand for, and yes I am only here for a short while. If it makes us happy then, yes let’s go for what we want. But I do have certain beliefs that shape my life, and who I am becoming so I will continue on living the way I do, and Rene, I’m sorry but I love being all giddy and hot and bothered so if you see me all nutty at work at least I am happy!

As for my chastity until I get married, then oh well I guess I might just never get laid again.

However we are going out this weekend.

Hell I forgot how nice it was to have lips pressed onto mine, hell I wonder if I even know what to do if I even act on that situation, I think it might be closed down for service!

When reality does not catch up with us just think of the things that can happen to us, life is so short and one never knows how any of us is going to react. One small action can turn into a huge reaction that causes a major chain reaction, and the next thing you know what the hell just happened is slapping us in the face.

Well I am fasting and I hear Starbuckamus calling me for a Frapalapachino, no chocolate as I have given it up for Lent.

For all you Catholics out there, have a great Lent, and for all you holding on to your chastity, hang on to it tightly!

I admit I have a small addiction to coffee. Sometimes on my days off I forget to eat because I have had so much coffee I am not hungry and 5 or 6 hours pass and I crash pretty hard, and just feel like shit.

Since I did not drop the last of my shitty Funeral Science classes, I make sure I eat breakfast of some sort, as well as get my ass jacked up so that my imagination can run as wild and free as it wants to in class without worry of me not having a creative enough mind as I need in order to block out all that shit about osmosis, dilution, diffusion, and caskets.

This morning I walk into the café at school that is ran by Cubans, and Ricans that speak fluent Spanglish. I asked for a grilled cheese with bacon. The last time I did this I got grilled cheese with bacon on the side, and I made them open my sandwich and insert the bacon. This time she says to me, “This is not a grilled cheese sandwich; it is a cheese sandwich with bacon.” I said back to her, “not where the hell I am from!”

The lady line cook from where the hell ever she is from then starts to argue with me about what my Grilled Cheese Sandwich with Bacon is called! O.K., I’m bright, alert, and ready to fucking rumble! Bring it I’m thinking, so I proceed to take it too her ass!

“If I wanted I cheese sandwich with bacon I think you would have placed some cheese between two slices of bread along with some bacon, hopefully cooked bacon, thus one has a cheese and bacon sandwich. If you take the same sandwich and place it on the grill, it becomes a grilled cheese sandwich with bacon. The grill part makes it a grilled cheese sandwich!” I am very stern with my words as I roll that last paragraph so eloquently off my tongue. Then I add, “Crackers all over this damn country have been eating this sandwich for years! Hell I just like bacon on mine!”  

She kept on and kept on, “But Mommy, this is a sandwich with cheese and bacon!” First of all, I aint no ones Mommy, second of all shut the hell up and give me my damn sandwich. Hell, if I were in Cuba I would have ordered a piece of Cuban toast with cheese and bacon pressed, that’s still a fucking grilled cheese sandwich with bacon right? What the hell!

My grilled cheese sandwich with bacon was finally ready, and I proceed to checkout armed with more coffee. I pay and walk over to a counter to take a bite out of my grilled cheese sandwich with bacon, and it had way too much butter.