Sunday December 20
This whole working thing is putting a damper on my blogging… I seem to treasure the free time that I have and don’t turn to this – I either sleep, hang out with friends, read or catch up on my television shows via Hulu – best invention ever, besides Google.
Anyway, the end of the work week was nothing special. Thursday I went to the immigrant, interviewed the author of Orangutan – he was so nice – and then went to Fox Hill Village. Nothing sticks out in my mind as an entertaining story except for I had brought Orangutan to read and kept in on the waitress stand so for the very rare moments that there was nothing to do I had something to do. I was grabbing my book at the end of the night when one of the other waitresses looked at it and said, “What’s an Og-ra-tan?”
I looked at her, puzzled at what she was actually talking about. Then I thought to myself, oh geeze. I laughed and said, “Really?”
She goes, “Oh my God…” and started laughing. I forgave her because it had been a long night of waitressing.
Friday consisted of the Irish Emigrant, editing ads and taking a rather long lunch break to pick up Mexican food. We went there to order, had a beer while we waited and well… One beer turned into three and us eating our Mexican food out of the to-go containers at the bar.
When we left the office only my editor was there, when we returned the office was packed (remember, that means seven people) My editor looks at me and said, “Did you guys have any pints?”
“Ask him…” as I pointed to the graphics guru. I can’t lie and I didn’t know what stance we were taking on this whole we-took-a-two-hour-lunch-because-we-didn’t-have-anything-to-do thing. Plus, I was kind of drunk – I’m sure he could tell with my red face.
“I can smell it.” We were caught. “Damn. I wish I would have come with you now,” he continued. We were safe.
Friday night reminded me of my last year at college and the few times I ever visited Boston (well, Quincy) before I moved out here. Saturday I went to the Emigrant and booked it through editing ads and such, then I attempted Target. Bad idea to try to go to Target a few days before Christmas anddd when there is an impending “blizzard” and people are stocking up to being snowed until May. I got to the parking lot, it was a cluster f*** and I went home, without purchasing a cute shirt for the evening. I was stuck with my typical closet that I have grown so, so very sick of. Then we had a party. Got a keg, Justine and I carried it inside (difficult) and the “blizzard” limited many people’s attendance. It was still entertaining with peppermint paddy shots – I loved them.
Sunday was a struggle. With very little sleep it was time to go to work. But first getting there. The snow had really accumulated over the night and Boston doesn’t do the best job at plowing – remember I’m from Minnesota and snow doesn’t phase me, but that’s because Minnesota tends to do an immaculate job at plowing their roads. Boston, though, does not. At least not around my house. I made it to work after a little longer journey and was the ONLY one there besides the chefs.
I had glasses on. First time I had worn them to work. I walked into the kitchen and the chef’s that make me so awkward looked at me.
“So, rough night?” Joe asked.
“Ha. Yeah you can tell it was,” commented the one who creeps me out but I have no idea how to spell his name. “Nice glasses. You look good.”
I walked away cause I’m awkward, hungover, tired and pissed that no other waitress was there.
I came back into the kitchen and asked Joe where everyone was. I gave my speech about living almost the farthest away from everyone yet I was there. Eventually everyone showed up, except the one guy who lives the closest. He may be fired.
It was a long day. I confused the oldies with my glasses and I was very, very tired. I didn’t think I was my normal, perky self, but Tara – the one waitress who knows my “weird” side compared to everyone else – asked me how many cups of coffee I was on.
“None, why”
“You’re on something. No one is this happy and this perky all the time,” she said. “Give me whatever you’re on, I want to be bubbly too.”
“Ha, I’m not on anything! Except things to tone-down my excited self! Although, I did have coke today.”
She looked at me… “Coca-cola! The soft drink!” I said.
She laughed, “I know you’d never do that, you get uncomfortable when we talk about weed.”
Yes, that’s me.
The day continued and apparently my tired, hungover self wasn’t showing – good thing. One guy, always whenever he orders a meal gets a coke with it. He always, always says, “I’ll take a medium-rare coke with well-done ice!”
He thinks it’s so funny. The first time he said it was one of my first days and I had never been more confused. He kind of looks like the guy that was eaten by Hannibal Lector in Silence of the Lambs. That’s what my high school counselor looked like too. Good thing I enjoy those movies, or else I’d be thoroughly creeped out.
And… almost had to introduce my crazy OCD to my cute coworker when he offered me an M&M. Ha.