How Much Clams Coulda Diddums Shuck, if a Diddums Could Shuck Clams?

So much bad karma is coming my way. At least five hundred times the amount that it should.

I killed five hundred living creatures today and my hands are suffering for it.

Oysters suck.

I volunteered for an Italian festival through George Brown today.
Upon arriving, Glenn and I were given six gigantic boxes of Oysters to rinse, scrub and shuck. It absolutely sucked.
The smell reminded me of the beach - I missed home. The barnacles reminded me of Boris - God rest his Racing Snail soul. Standing over a sink full of smelly, shelled creatures for five hours made my back remember what it felt like to be in a life drawing class for three hours.

I really just wanted to die.

Oddly enough, it was the steel wool that sliced my finger in half and not the oysters. I'm sure it will get infected. Having it marinate in a bucket of oyster piss for five hours isn't exactly what I consider therapeutic or hygienic, But wadya gonna do a'bout it?

Eventually when Chef Shaller arrived he swept us away to his tables which were full of pastries and a giant, three tiered chocolate fountain that was surrounded by pineapple, marshmallows, strawberries and bananas for dipping.

Divine, but still, Italians are rude.

Glenn and I were happy for the change, even if it was busy and full of people speaking in Italian who assumed we understood them. Smile and nod, no one will ever know.
One man who had somehow managed to spill melted chocolate all the way up his arms used the tablecloth to wipe his hands. Classy. Another man grabbed my butt and what seemed to be a thousand monsters swarmed the table, demanding chocolate in high pitched squeels that only awful little children seem to be able to make. It sent shivers through my whole body. A choir of screaming brats is not exactly easy listening for an afternoon lunch.

At the end of the day Chef Shaller took Glenn and I back to his shop for a tour.
It's still in the process of being created and looks rather good considering. He had put in a new bathroom, new floors and a whole shit load of equipment that was exceptionally large and intimidating.

I was terribly jealous.

It was strange working with the Chef today only 'cause he seemed so much more jovial. He's sort of hot when he's not flustered and dealing with twenty-four, barely twenty, annoying students.
It's possible that I might have a bit of a crush on him, probably only because he has his own bake shop and that for some reason makes me wet. It's successful men, that's what does it. It can't be helped.

Ya, I'mma Gold Diggah. So what?

Grand times today, minus the oysters. I think now I'll retreat to bed and slowly suck the oyster piss out of my fermenting wounds.