bliumchik | Accidents, Alcohol and Bread

I spent some time playing with my brother this morning while my mum napped on the couch. Have I mentioned that he knows the Russian three syllable word for car accident? Well, he's certainly making good use of it.

He rode around on his little tricycle, and periodically tipped it over and lay on the ground going "Avaria! Avaria!" and giggling. Then he parked a horse under a thing which is technically supposed to be a sandpit, but we never fill it. Then he terrorised the cat and spent a few minutes staring at a spider which wasn't there.

While making french toast for breakfast I splashed hot oil on my thumb, which now has a perfectly round red splotch upon it, which hurts. I put a abandaid on it, whereupon my brother insisted on getting one too, and the horse.

I swear, these customers are so annoying! The ones who can't decide between thickly sliced bread and thinly. Come on, there are two sizes, one's for sandwich one's for toast but it doesn't actually matter, GERRONWIVIT. I swear one guy actually cackled after asking for "thickish".

The mental lady I mentioned earlier (can't find the entry though) was at the bus stop on my way home. Only instead of peacefullky babbling about photos of her children and local youth she was screaming incoherent insults at a random guy, apparantly drunk. After a while the Greek at the chicken place came out and calmed her down by saying he had called the police about the people who she was yelling about, and they would be put in jail, if she'd be quiet and stop yelling. It worked. I bought potato salad off his wife.