So I’m like, “Yo boss, I was doing dishes yesterday when Flora was making the pico de gaillo, and she starts running the onions through and I’m like damn I can feel that shit from here. Then I look and she looks like a crying 10 year old covering her eyes. I think it would be a good idea to get a pair of lab goggles so no one has to get onion’d out that hard, it will save time in the long run and removes the torturous aspect of that job.”

Then boss says, “I don’t think corporate will allow that”

Looks like I gotta write a letter to corporate, fuck

thebreadloafhadnolife:

This is my favorite track off of Ravedeath, 1972. It’s what introduced me to Tim Hecker’s music, and intrigued me to listen to the whole album. It reminds me of a silent scream.