I am thou, thou art I. Thou art a gay bitch

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-"What the hell why are they so picky??? That's like for kids. That's like something my DAD would-- wait i don't have a dad-- that's like something my MOM would do"

-"BRO WHY ARE YOU CUSSING ME OUT IN SPANISH???" for some reason shouted so loudly that customers still in line all start laughing

-i open the restaurant and notice the kitchen is still kind of dirty and try to glean who closed last night, and i overhear two of the boys talking about yesterdaay

me: "so, you helped in the kitchen last night?"

IMMEDIATELY: "IT WASNT ME I JUST DID THE FRYERS LAST NIGHT"

I did. I have never seen the attic so I go check it out and there's already like three of them up there

me: the fuck are you guys doing???

me: WHAT'S IN THE SINK.

Clerk 2: We're trying to clean the sink

me: Which cleaners did you MIX

Clerk 3: All of it

me: DRAIN IT.

[one brief emergency explanation about never mixing cleaners and what mustard gas is]

Clerk 1: oh yeah didn't they use that during like world war two

Me: yeah man it's like, a war crime now. It's just such a horrible way to die that we can't use it anymore

Clerk 2: wait fr???

Clerk 3: ohh. What about opium?

Me: ...what?

Clerk 3: like the opium war.

Me:

They keep moving shit to inconvenient locations and I hate it and keep having to move shit back, then once on my day off they decided to call in help and move my Entire Fucking Kitchen around and I was real fucking pressed about it for like the rest of the week (put off opening the next morning to move all the big ass machines and fryers back my damned self to establish territory or whatever)

A week later one of the really sweet girls who helps me in the kitchen goes "hey I have a confession. me and (other kid) were there while they were moving your kitchen and we knew you'd hate it. I was going to say something"

"Oh no worries, it's not really your responsibility to go between us like that"

"no no, I was going to tell her to at least ask you about it first but then I was like 'hmmm....let's see how this plays out'. for the drama."

the wide shot of Navidson hitting the Nae Nae truly encapsulates how SCARY and FUCKED UP the house is.^1 Is the house god, or is it merely a stage upon which the dance of life is played? Perchance. When Navidson gets absolutely nasty with his sick moves^2, it shows the almost gleeful folly he takes place in by exploring further into his own labyrinth, seemingly uncaring for the collateral damage he may cause by forsaking himself to the house. Furthermore, Derrida. Perchance.

1. John Smeegly's "I hate this movie it's awful so I'm writing an essay on it", 2001.^3

2. Flob Schmobly's "Go White Filmmaker, Go: a study of The Navidson Records delirious grooves and schmooves", Harvard Medical Journal, 1882.

3. I'm reading the SCARY MANUSCRIPT about the SPOOKY HOUSE! Here comes 4 pages of objectifying women and/or awkward sex scenes.^4