I tell people I'm an English major and all of a sudden I can only be a full-witted professor. It's even funnier when I say that my field of study is English whenever I'm speaking spanish, they look at me as though I'm a fool possessed by the illiterate demons of our local parish. Behind this register I stand for days and days switching to and fro between my two well-versed tongues as the transactions keep rolling money into corporate's pocket and I'm stuck living in a ******* without so much as a picture locket. This hurricane is making the roof leak and I won't get paid until next week; do you want the eggs or the tortillas? Come on, let me know, bby. Tell me before this roaring television makes me go crazy, before this phone rings and I have to pretend that I'm a boy again just for the sake of my societal standing amongst the liars and cheats posing as friars so sweet. Cry me a river so that I can drown, oh my byproduct of god, I'm going down.