Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Thursday, January 25, 2007
will you please stop doing that?
Alright, so every night since at least last Thursday, a middle-aged Asian couple has walked into the restaurant, bypassed the hostess stand, and gone to the booth that's tucked alllll the way in the back. Well, last night there was a raucous party going on at the tables in that area, so they picked a less inconvenient booth, but generally they'll head right on back there. When the closing server notices them (that section is usually closed by this point in the night, so no one would be put there purposely), she has to bring them menus and serve them. They order Rickard's Red by the pitcher, and one meal to split between them. And they always order another pitcher at last call. They sit on the same side of the booth, and what do you think they do once they've had a little food and a bunch of beer? THEY MAKE OUT. FOR HOURS. And yesterday, they went into the handicapped washroom together in the middle of their third and last pitcher. This, after all my work is done, and all I have to do before I can get out of my uniform and leave is clean and re-set their table.
I've been lucky in that two out of the three times I've had to serve them, they've left before 2 am. And unfortunately, they really seem to like me (I think I'm actually the least rude to them), so I feel bad about being filled with such intense despair and rage when I see them come in. We've tried practically everything to hint that they are inconveniencing everyone. I actually stood by the booth while they made out and swept the floor. We've cleared everything off the table. We've turned off all the televisions, the music, and even the lights. Oh no, they leave when they are good and ready, and not a moment before.
My major thing is, don't they have a HOME? I thought maybe they were cheating on their respective spouses, but since they've come in every single night... well, no one is THAT gullible. One night when I wasn't there, they got super drunk and banged the empty pitchers on the table. Last night, I was hanging out in the bar, and peering over the divide, hoping they'd left. When the table was finally empty, I literally ran around the corner yelling "YESS!!" and nearly bowled them over as they were exiting.
Tonight's my last close until Monday, and if there is a higher power looking out for me, they'll go to Shoeless Joe's instead.
I've been lucky in that two out of the three times I've had to serve them, they've left before 2 am. And unfortunately, they really seem to like me (I think I'm actually the least rude to them), so I feel bad about being filled with such intense despair and rage when I see them come in. We've tried practically everything to hint that they are inconveniencing everyone. I actually stood by the booth while they made out and swept the floor. We've cleared everything off the table. We've turned off all the televisions, the music, and even the lights. Oh no, they leave when they are good and ready, and not a moment before.
My major thing is, don't they have a HOME? I thought maybe they were cheating on their respective spouses, but since they've come in every single night... well, no one is THAT gullible. One night when I wasn't there, they got super drunk and banged the empty pitchers on the table. Last night, I was hanging out in the bar, and peering over the divide, hoping they'd left. When the table was finally empty, I literally ran around the corner yelling "YESS!!" and nearly bowled them over as they were exiting.
Tonight's my last close until Monday, and if there is a higher power looking out for me, they'll go to Shoeless Joe's instead.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
step three was where it trainwrecked
In a strange case of life imitating... well, for the sake of argument, let's say art, the guy I've been seeing recently attempted to present me with his dick in a box yesterday. This, on our third date. Now, I'm not lacking in the sense of humour department--you might call it odd, quirky, or strange, but you must admit that I have one. I draw the line at indecent exposure in a parking lot before we've gotten to second base. I've got to say, it speaks volumes about his self-confidence. And yes, the dick in a box thing was something of an in-joke between us. But I've learned two very important lessons from this:
- Never, ever, ever, give your number out to a guest at work.
- I'm too nice of a person sometimes, and the wisest thing to have done was head for the hills.
To answer the obvious question, no, I did not open the box. I was waiting in the restaurant when he called me to come out to the parking lot, and I told him to take the thing off and get inside. Which, hindsight being what it is, was the appropriate time to exit and circle around the place and leave. Instead I stayed, and now I'm going to have to break things off with him over the phone and hope like hell I don't run into him before I've moved to Toronto.
Speaking of Toronto, my friend Charlie's office is relocating from Winnipeg. He has a friend who's 19, and never lived on his own, who's looking for either a bachelor apartment or a roommate to split a two bedroom place with. However, if I were to move in with this guy, it'd be... SOON. Like, in a few weeks soon. He's a magician, which is a point in his favour, and according to Charlie, he's the nicest guy in the world. I'm not entirely adverse to the idea, but I've been getting more and more attached to the idea of living on my own.
a conversation betwixt me and my brother
D: Did you try my mannicotti?
ME: Yeah.
D: How'd you like it?
ME: Needed some meat.
(pause)
D: You know that was completely vegan, right? It didn't even have cheese in it.
ME: Hmm. Needed some meat.
D: You carnivore. I'm just going to start making vegan meals and you won't even realize.
ME: Can you put some meat in them?
ME: Yeah.
D: How'd you like it?
ME: Needed some meat.
(pause)
D: You know that was completely vegan, right? It didn't even have cheese in it.
ME: Hmm. Needed some meat.
D: You carnivore. I'm just going to start making vegan meals and you won't even realize.
ME: Can you put some meat in them?
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
it's almost as if my life will fall unless I see their ascent
Good solid times in the G-Spot this weekend. From what I remember, that is. Saturday night is a bit of a blur, to be honest. For some reason, I was letting people unhook my bra to see how fast they could do it--where I came up with this plan, I have no clue. I also got belligerent and yelled at randoms on the street (and then demanded their coats... apparently I was cold and belligerent). There's a picture on Facebook of me doing my bra back up, but so far that's the most embarrassing one. On Wednesday TJ's is having their staff Christmas party, but I hope to avoid being the newest grist for the rumour mill--in other words, I can't get so drunk that I let the kitchen guys at my lingerie.
Tonight was pretty brutal at work. Logic dictated that we be hurting for guests--it was crappy weather, we had no dinner rush, and it's a Monday in January. Instead, we got killed from eight-thirty until eleven-thirty, when it was only Ashley and I. There are these people that come in every Monday and are basically total whores. They either complain about the service or the food (or both). All the servers know them as "those assholes," and yet, they keep coming back. Even if you have all the time in the world to devote to their comfort, they still treat you like shit. So honestly, at this point, it really doesn't matter if you go out of your way to make sure their beer glasses are frosty enough (and I shit you not, they WILL say something about it); they just like complaining. If I go to a restaurant and I have severe issues with the food or the service, I don't go back. Simple.
I keep decorating my bachelor apartment in my head to soothe my tortured soul. Now I just have to find one.
Tonight was pretty brutal at work. Logic dictated that we be hurting for guests--it was crappy weather, we had no dinner rush, and it's a Monday in January. Instead, we got killed from eight-thirty until eleven-thirty, when it was only Ashley and I. There are these people that come in every Monday and are basically total whores. They either complain about the service or the food (or both). All the servers know them as "those assholes," and yet, they keep coming back. Even if you have all the time in the world to devote to their comfort, they still treat you like shit. So honestly, at this point, it really doesn't matter if you go out of your way to make sure their beer glasses are frosty enough (and I shit you not, they WILL say something about it); they just like complaining. If I go to a restaurant and I have severe issues with the food or the service, I don't go back. Simple.
I keep decorating my bachelor apartment in my head to soothe my tortured soul. Now I just have to find one.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Monday, January 08, 2007
all the same, I'm getting these biological urges
I started skimming the classifieds in the Star today, to get some idea of what I should be looking for in the Grand Apartment Hunt of 2007. Here's the thing: huh? I have a vague grasp of Toronto's geography, and an only slightly better idea of where I want to live (near transit, where I can find close bartending/serving work, and not sketchy). I think I'm going to need to sit down with a map and/or just wander around Toronto and get a better feel for things. I would love to find an affordable bachelor apartment, but that's probably a pipe dream. And I'd probably turn into some kind of random hermit if I didn't have roommates anyway.
My best friend from elementary school called yesterday, and we had a long spiel. We only talk about four times a year, really, but we try to keep each other up to date on the general vagaries of our lives. She's starting to talk about long-term goals, which is freaking me right the hell out. Marriage? Kids? Own business? I still have trouble dressing myself in the morning. She's been with the same guy for five years, and the reason they're not already engaged is a religion issue. I guess I can see that being a deal-breaker, but my thing is... FIVE YEARS? I have severe ADD when it comes to relationships. I'm pretty sure I'd be a terrible mother due to my extreme self-centeredness. I just plain do not understand her life. Not that I have the best grasp of my own, but... you know?
Does it mean that I'm a bad person if I'm automatically suspicious of people who claim that motherhood is fulfilling and self-actualizing? I tend to think of it as the end of your life, in a very real sense.
My best friend from elementary school called yesterday, and we had a long spiel. We only talk about four times a year, really, but we try to keep each other up to date on the general vagaries of our lives. She's starting to talk about long-term goals, which is freaking me right the hell out. Marriage? Kids? Own business? I still have trouble dressing myself in the morning. She's been with the same guy for five years, and the reason they're not already engaged is a religion issue. I guess I can see that being a deal-breaker, but my thing is... FIVE YEARS? I have severe ADD when it comes to relationships. I'm pretty sure I'd be a terrible mother due to my extreme self-centeredness. I just plain do not understand her life. Not that I have the best grasp of my own, but... you know?
Does it mean that I'm a bad person if I'm automatically suspicious of people who claim that motherhood is fulfilling and self-actualizing? I tend to think of it as the end of your life, in a very real sense.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
arrrrgh
I am in a dirty, foul mood, which is a direct result of corona night, but also because of hormones and idiot coworkers. However, this amused me, and so I pass it along to you. I'm not going to rant about my night, because it was so ridiculously bad that I just want to pretend it never happened. Just one thing, however. "Yes" is not an appropriate answer to a question with an "or" in it. I WILL kill you.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
does anyone know what it's supposed to mean when you dream about teeth?
Last year my resolution was to work on my posture. I'd have to say I didn't succeed. Well, I guess it's a little better than it was. But only when I remember. This year, I can't seem to muster up the will to come up with a good resolution. There's stuff I gotta do (being less mentally unstable would probably be a step in the right direction), especially with this being the year I assert my adult independence and start living the dream--which, I hardly need add, will be blogged about in annoyingly angsty detail. Sorry.
Alright, now this might sound like a pretty dumb idea, but maybe I should resolve to do more things that I suspect I will later regret. You know, take risks. Carpe diem. I'm just thinking that I'm rapidly running out of time to do absolutely retarded things and pass them off as youthful indiscretions. If I have to slap myself in the face every now and then, well, so be it. I have pages in my memoirs to fill, after all.
That doesn't precisely fit in with the whole, less mentally unstable thing.
Anyway, speaking of mental instability (haha, I jest! I just needed to segue), here's some reading material for the bored amongst you. If you read the selection of "Things I shouldn't have said," be prepared to be concerned about how many of them are about pooping. Anal fixation, Mr Lynn?
Also, it's been up for awhile, but here's a Christmas letter that my dearest Jowie penned for the seasonal cheer of us all. It's full of damn lies, but really, what holiday newsletter isn't? Hmm... it occurs to me that I never got a look at the one Mother sent out this year. Well, I graduated from university, which hopefully earned me enough points to get away with coasting for the rest of 2006. And I didn't do anything that required hardcore glossing, although waitressing doesn't sound VERY good as a post-grad career.
By the way, JoTo, I remembered while we were in the midst of riffing on Jesus being a bad dinner guest that I never told you that Katie and James' dad is getting his Masters of Divinity to become a minister. Er. Chalk that up on the list of things WE shouldn't have said. Why can I never hold my tongue around the religious authorities? I think one of the most awkward moments for 2006 was when my great aunt the nun suggested that I enter a convent. Self-deprecatingly and charmingly (or so I hoped), I laughed that they would never take me. She blinked and asked why. I defy even the most steely-balled of you to look at five feet of be-habited religious conviction (who, furthermore, has your mother's phone number) and explain that your loose morals and atheism would prevent you from choosing "bride of Christ" as your vocation.
Alright, now this might sound like a pretty dumb idea, but maybe I should resolve to do more things that I suspect I will later regret. You know, take risks. Carpe diem. I'm just thinking that I'm rapidly running out of time to do absolutely retarded things and pass them off as youthful indiscretions. If I have to slap myself in the face every now and then, well, so be it. I have pages in my memoirs to fill, after all.
That doesn't precisely fit in with the whole, less mentally unstable thing.
Anyway, speaking of mental instability (haha, I jest! I just needed to segue), here's some reading material for the bored amongst you. If you read the selection of "Things I shouldn't have said," be prepared to be concerned about how many of them are about pooping. Anal fixation, Mr Lynn?
Also, it's been up for awhile, but here's a Christmas letter that my dearest Jowie penned for the seasonal cheer of us all. It's full of damn lies, but really, what holiday newsletter isn't? Hmm... it occurs to me that I never got a look at the one Mother sent out this year. Well, I graduated from university, which hopefully earned me enough points to get away with coasting for the rest of 2006. And I didn't do anything that required hardcore glossing, although waitressing doesn't sound VERY good as a post-grad career.
By the way, JoTo, I remembered while we were in the midst of riffing on Jesus being a bad dinner guest that I never told you that Katie and James' dad is getting his Masters of Divinity to become a minister. Er. Chalk that up on the list of things WE shouldn't have said. Why can I never hold my tongue around the religious authorities? I think one of the most awkward moments for 2006 was when my great aunt the nun suggested that I enter a convent. Self-deprecatingly and charmingly (or so I hoped), I laughed that they would never take me. She blinked and asked why. I defy even the most steely-balled of you to look at five feet of be-habited religious conviction (who, furthermore, has your mother's phone number) and explain that your loose morals and atheism would prevent you from choosing "bride of Christ" as your vocation.
Monday, January 01, 2007
should old acquaintance be forgot
Alright, I'm pretty inebriated right now, I'm not going to lie to you. It's 2007, and I rang in the new year at TJ's, drinking beer and hanging out with the general manager, another manager, a former manager, two bartenders and a kitchen guy. I just barely managed to change out of my uniform before midnight hit. Come to think of it, it's the most low-key NYEs I've spent in years.
So, we're four hours in, about. Whaddya got for me, 2007? I'm ready and waiting.
So, we're four hours in, about. Whaddya got for me, 2007? I'm ready and waiting.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Happy 2007 to you all!
Well, that went fast. I'm not sure if I can mark 2006 down as a good year or not--overall, I'm ambivalent. There were some amazing times, and some really crappy times. So, basically, like all other years. I'm looking forward to moving out in a few months, and dreading having to face cold, hard reality. I'm thinking that 2007 will be interesting, and full of the usual rollercoasters of emotion.
A few highlights from 2006:
A few highlights from 2006:
- spiking my coffee cup on the way out of my last exam
- graduation day and the following (and final) communal nap at 10 Stanley
- my trip to Europe
Thursday, December 28, 2006
take it from me, there's not much to see in this void
Just got back from coffee with an old friend from high school. Good to catch up with him, but it was a little random because we were never that much more than acquaintances at school; I'm finding that since I've graduated and moved back home, people you used to sort of know are suddenly interested in chatting and being all social. But the really rando thing was that we ran into two girls who used to be really close friends of mine. I hadn't spoken to one of them in probably three years, and the other girl last I ran into exactly a year ago, boxing week sale shopping. So there was the awkward chatting, which is always a good time. It's poor timing; I was just feeling positive about the way my life is going, and now I have to see people who make me think about the trajectory my life was taking five years ago. Al's in teacher's college, just like she planned, and Maryse is still pursuing that physio degree (or so I gathered... she didn't do too much talking). I never wanted to be back in the 'Saugs, working at the local watering hole, but here I am.
I guess it's all for the best though. I don't really have a handle on what else I could be doing at this particular moment, life being what it is. And I have a goal in mind, and I'm almost there. It's just a case of reunion syndrome, when you want to have something wildly impressive to tell lapsed friends so they can realize how much better your life is than theirs.
I guess it's all for the best though. I don't really have a handle on what else I could be doing at this particular moment, life being what it is. And I have a goal in mind, and I'm almost there. It's just a case of reunion syndrome, when you want to have something wildly impressive to tell lapsed friends so they can realize how much better your life is than theirs.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
peace on earth, etc
Hey, Merry Christmas to all! First, allow me to explain my week and a half of absence. My computer decided that it wasn't going to speak to my keyboard any more, essentially. I calmly considered the situation, and then threw a hissy fit. And now, here I am on a brand new computer, with a snazzy flat LCD screen. I actually got talked out of the faster computer by the salesman (he wasn't too impressed with me. I think when he asked me what I was using it for and I said, "You know... typing... stuff...." alarm bells went off in his head). Anyway, people think I'm crazy when I anthropormorphize my machinery, but I set up the new one while the old one was still in the room, and now the old one refuses to work at all. We set it up in the basement and were planning on hooking it up to the internet so I could transfer my music, but it's being withholding. So once again, I am starting from scratch. My brother is convinced that he can get the old one up and running again (at least to the point where I can get my files off it), but he is stymied as to why it's so moody. It refuses to turn all the way on now. It let me open the cd drawers and get my DVDs out, and some of the power lights turn on--just not the main one. I'm telling you, it has a personality. And it's real mad at me.
So what have I been doing with myself for the last eleven days, you ask? Nothing of vital importance. Last weekend Jo and I went up to the Hammer for some quality Toni time. You can zip over to Toni's blog for pictorial evidence. Then I worked a bunch, finished my shopping, and, you know, generally did my thing. I tried to get the entire TJ's staff to say "It's a Christmas MIRACLE!" whenever anything good happened, and "THAT'S not very CHRISTMASSY!" whenever something bad happened, with limited success. I did manage to get my extended family to accuse everyone else of ruining Christmas every ten minutes. Ahh, family gatherings.
Laptop guy and I had a nice conversation about books (this was after I tried to convince him that the wings he'd just eaten had come from my pet chicken, Fluffy) on Thursday night. Doug and Charlie swung by and we went out for late night coffee when I finished work. Then we played poker Friday night and I was sooooo close to winning. Closer than I've ever been before! But stupid Charlie, who's USUALLY bluffing, started getting some good hands. I may never get over it.
Anyway, that's me, updated for the last little while. Not thrilling, but I promise to try and have some adventures in the new year. Maybe I'll even start this week. Get a running start for 2007, as it were.
So what have I been doing with myself for the last eleven days, you ask? Nothing of vital importance. Last weekend Jo and I went up to the Hammer for some quality Toni time. You can zip over to Toni's blog for pictorial evidence. Then I worked a bunch, finished my shopping, and, you know, generally did my thing. I tried to get the entire TJ's staff to say "It's a Christmas MIRACLE!" whenever anything good happened, and "THAT'S not very CHRISTMASSY!" whenever something bad happened, with limited success. I did manage to get my extended family to accuse everyone else of ruining Christmas every ten minutes. Ahh, family gatherings.
Laptop guy and I had a nice conversation about books (this was after I tried to convince him that the wings he'd just eaten had come from my pet chicken, Fluffy) on Thursday night. Doug and Charlie swung by and we went out for late night coffee when I finished work. Then we played poker Friday night and I was sooooo close to winning. Closer than I've ever been before! But stupid Charlie, who's USUALLY bluffing, started getting some good hands. I may never get over it.
Anyway, that's me, updated for the last little while. Not thrilling, but I promise to try and have some adventures in the new year. Maybe I'll even start this week. Get a running start for 2007, as it were.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
things you shouldn't say to your mother while she can still return your Xmas presents
ME: (helpfully) I don't think that garland works. (beat) It looks like you were drunk while you did it.
MOTHER: (long pause, dirty look) Well, get in there and fix it, then!
ME: No! You sober up and do it!
MOTHER: (long pause, dirty look) Well, get in there and fix it, then!
ME: No! You sober up and do it!
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
warning: work rant
It's a Christmas miracle! My faith in humanity has been temporarily (very temporarily--expect me to be bitter again by tomorrow) restored! I got a table of four hockey dads and their five sons. They weren't TERRIBLE, at first (although Daniel was going to murder me because of the five chocolate milkshakes he had to make), but there was a definite vibe of "ignore the waitress while she stands there politely because we need to discuss HOCKEY, and that is much more important than anything else" coming off them. At least one of the dads is a regular, although they usually sit on the bar side; I only recognized him because the son both badly needs a haircut and also whizzes around the restaurant on those roll-y shoes whenever they come in. Seriously, although I'd like a pair of those shoes myself (it'd be a disaster because of my questionable balance), they really are MENACES. Suddenly, the whole world is a roller rink, but without the fun disco music. And at least you know what you're getting into when you walk into a roller rink. In a restaurant, balancing a tray of drinks, you don't expect a ballistic child to come at you out of nowhere.
Anyway, when they finally got down to the serious business of ordering wings, the dads were all shouting down to the other end of the table about sauces and whether or not their offspring would eat the wings if they were done in such and such a way. The kids merrily ignored them, of course, but the adults managed to place their orders with a minimum of fuss. Off I go. About ten minutes after said wings arrive at the table, another round of beers has been delivered, etc, one of the dads turns to me and says, rudely, "Uh, are the kids getting THEIR food soon?" Blankly, I stare at him. "You didn't order any other food for the kids," I say, confused. He glares at me and bites out, "Well, I THOUGHT you would have ASKED them. Get them some chicken fingers and fries. And can you make that FAST?" So I order his two kids some chicken fingers--the other three kids are, as expected, sharing their dads' wings. I went back to the table to inquire about drinks, and the guy actually says to me, "No, I'm fine. I'm just worried about my boys' food," as if I were deliberately starving his children! "It's on its way," I say, smiling grimly. Ooooh, was I ever mad. When the food did arrive, he bellowed down the length of the restaurant for his sons, who had scarpered off to play games in the bar.
Anyway, to get to the restoration of my faith, the dads all paid separately, and the one who left last tipped me nearly thirty percent and said, "Thanks very much. And, by the way... the rest of us knew he didn't order any food for his kids. Sorry about that." You see, class? Good CAN exist in a restaurant. And thus, a killing spree at the local TJ's was narrowly avoided. I never know what to say to people who apologize for their friends, but it certainly is appreciated.
In other news, one of my coworkers is clearly insane. Laptop guy has been working on a paper and presentation about dinosaurs for the last week or two (pretty much the entire FOH staff knows him and will chat to him now), which has prompted Nicky to treat us all to her theories. Namely, that she doesn't believe in dinosaurs, and that whatever fossils we have are just wrongly re-assembled modern-day animals. This has prompted ME to try and explain science to her in escalating tones until I have a headache and need to leave the room. Even laptop guy (cult member, remember?) says there's too much evidence NOT to believe in dinosaurs. I suspect he believes something about god creating them for some mysterious purpose, but at least he admits they existed. Nicky believes in aliens, but not dinosaurs. And here's another scary fact for you: she's a supply teacher. You kind of have to wonder what the world is coming to.
Anyway, when they finally got down to the serious business of ordering wings, the dads were all shouting down to the other end of the table about sauces and whether or not their offspring would eat the wings if they were done in such and such a way. The kids merrily ignored them, of course, but the adults managed to place their orders with a minimum of fuss. Off I go. About ten minutes after said wings arrive at the table, another round of beers has been delivered, etc, one of the dads turns to me and says, rudely, "Uh, are the kids getting THEIR food soon?" Blankly, I stare at him. "You didn't order any other food for the kids," I say, confused. He glares at me and bites out, "Well, I THOUGHT you would have ASKED them. Get them some chicken fingers and fries. And can you make that FAST?" So I order his two kids some chicken fingers--the other three kids are, as expected, sharing their dads' wings. I went back to the table to inquire about drinks, and the guy actually says to me, "No, I'm fine. I'm just worried about my boys' food," as if I were deliberately starving his children! "It's on its way," I say, smiling grimly. Ooooh, was I ever mad. When the food did arrive, he bellowed down the length of the restaurant for his sons, who had scarpered off to play games in the bar.
Anyway, to get to the restoration of my faith, the dads all paid separately, and the one who left last tipped me nearly thirty percent and said, "Thanks very much. And, by the way... the rest of us knew he didn't order any food for his kids. Sorry about that." You see, class? Good CAN exist in a restaurant. And thus, a killing spree at the local TJ's was narrowly avoided. I never know what to say to people who apologize for their friends, but it certainly is appreciated.
In other news, one of my coworkers is clearly insane. Laptop guy has been working on a paper and presentation about dinosaurs for the last week or two (pretty much the entire FOH staff knows him and will chat to him now), which has prompted Nicky to treat us all to her theories. Namely, that she doesn't believe in dinosaurs, and that whatever fossils we have are just wrongly re-assembled modern-day animals. This has prompted ME to try and explain science to her in escalating tones until I have a headache and need to leave the room. Even laptop guy (cult member, remember?) says there's too much evidence NOT to believe in dinosaurs. I suspect he believes something about god creating them for some mysterious purpose, but at least he admits they existed. Nicky believes in aliens, but not dinosaurs. And here's another scary fact for you: she's a supply teacher. You kind of have to wonder what the world is coming to.
Monday, December 11, 2006
you say I'd be better off dead, well, I know
It has been officially mandated that the servers wear Christmas "cheer gear" for the next few weeks. I am suspending my ironic detachment (and dignity) for the next little while and I am going to WIN that fifty bucks. I fully intend to wear headbands with antlers, mistletoe, bells, tinsel, or all of the above. Christmas earrings? Check. I wonder if I can find a pair of elf ears?
In other thrilling news, I finally spoke to Sundeep on Friday. Have I explained this bizarre factor of my life to you? I feel like I have not. This guy named Sundeep used to have my cell number, and since I inherited it, I have been fielding calls from confused men who speak to me in Arabic. It's gotten to the point that I assume, when I see an unfamiliar Toronto number come up on my call display, that I'm about to get harangued in heavily accented English for Sundeep's new number. But now, I have it! I don't know why I'm so excited; really, it means that instead of explaining in my most put-upon voice that no, this is no longer Sundeep's number, I'll have to slowly read out his new one--more work for me, pretty much. But somehow it also feels like I've regained control of something, and established real ownership of my phone.
Spent most of today hungover. I went to My Apartment last night with two of my coworkers--well, one is actually one of my bosses--who turned out to be insane party animals. I'd claim to be too old to party like that until five am, but they are five and fifteen years older than me, respectively.
I was feeling pretty low energy at work today, and then an encounter with a table of assholes put me into a really filthy mood. One of the kitchen guys, who is slightly creepy, even on a day when I'm in a good mood, is one of those massager-types. You know, the kind of person who is really touchy-feely, and will decide that the best possible way to soothe an bad temper is to get all shoulder-massagey and huggy and etc. I was pretty much going to kill him. When I'm that angry, I feel like I'm giving off sparks. Why would you want to touch someone who clearly looks like she's going to flip out and murder everyone near her? I'm not a very physical person to begin with, but touch me when I'm in a bad mood and you risk maimings and death. Everyone else had the sense to be frightened of me.
I like feeling that I fit in at a place, and for the most part I don't mind my job. But I can't wait until April, when I'll be elsewhere entirely. My 24th birthday present to me will be my letter of resignation and a truck rental to haul my stuff away to the big city. I wish I had enough financial security to get my very own apartment, all to myself, but reality says no. Stupid expensive Toronto. My first place will probably only be until Jo and Toni can join me, anyway.
In other thrilling news, I finally spoke to Sundeep on Friday. Have I explained this bizarre factor of my life to you? I feel like I have not. This guy named Sundeep used to have my cell number, and since I inherited it, I have been fielding calls from confused men who speak to me in Arabic. It's gotten to the point that I assume, when I see an unfamiliar Toronto number come up on my call display, that I'm about to get harangued in heavily accented English for Sundeep's new number. But now, I have it! I don't know why I'm so excited; really, it means that instead of explaining in my most put-upon voice that no, this is no longer Sundeep's number, I'll have to slowly read out his new one--more work for me, pretty much. But somehow it also feels like I've regained control of something, and established real ownership of my phone.
Spent most of today hungover. I went to My Apartment last night with two of my coworkers--well, one is actually one of my bosses--who turned out to be insane party animals. I'd claim to be too old to party like that until five am, but they are five and fifteen years older than me, respectively.
I was feeling pretty low energy at work today, and then an encounter with a table of assholes put me into a really filthy mood. One of the kitchen guys, who is slightly creepy, even on a day when I'm in a good mood, is one of those massager-types. You know, the kind of person who is really touchy-feely, and will decide that the best possible way to soothe an bad temper is to get all shoulder-massagey and huggy and etc. I was pretty much going to kill him. When I'm that angry, I feel like I'm giving off sparks. Why would you want to touch someone who clearly looks like she's going to flip out and murder everyone near her? I'm not a very physical person to begin with, but touch me when I'm in a bad mood and you risk maimings and death. Everyone else had the sense to be frightened of me.
I like feeling that I fit in at a place, and for the most part I don't mind my job. But I can't wait until April, when I'll be elsewhere entirely. My 24th birthday present to me will be my letter of resignation and a truck rental to haul my stuff away to the big city. I wish I had enough financial security to get my very own apartment, all to myself, but reality says no. Stupid expensive Toronto. My first place will probably only be until Jo and Toni can join me, anyway.
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