those "it's just Richard being Richard" days.

He's already mad at me for asking him to quit singing along to his crappy music while he has headphones on this morning.

Lunch comes, and he plops down in a center desk with a giant grin on his face, staring me in the eyes, and pulls out a McDonald's McRib and Dr. Pepper (in one of those 256 oz gas station jugs).

The entire time he keeps looking at me. Like he wants me. Creepy.

Anyway, when he finishes he licks every finger, making groaning sounds. He sauntered over to the garbage and dramatically drops the McDonald's bag into the can, like a mic drop, and he leaves for the day.

Fun stuff.