On why Alexander Skårsgard can be my sperm donor and how 1950's America can still be fun
So, today marks the conclusion of my first day working as a server at Johnny Rockets, and I must say, now that I've mostly learned the menu and can survive on my feet for at least seven hours nonstop, it's pretty fun. I only got paid $82 for my training week, but I've made $254 in tips. (Go, me, if I do say so myself.) I took my mom and my sister out for dinner tonight, and I paid for the first time.
I've realized that being a waiter, as long as there aren't too many people to serve at once, isn't that difficult or tedious. When I have a maximum of four tables, serving can be somewhat fun. When I have more than that…well, shit gets hard. My second day, I had these two ladies from upstate and this elderly guy outside, a family of four in a booth in the back, an elderly woman with some Christopher Reich book in the middle of the restaurant, and a vaguely dominatrix-looking woman with tangerine hair and a moderately passive boy toy one table over. Suffice it to say, I was able to get everyone his/her food on time, but it was hard, and a customer or two left no tip. Hmpf.
Today, I got a family from fifteen miles outside of Cleveland who drove all the way to New York to see Wicked for the elder daughter's graduation gift. I enthused with them about the awesomeness that is that show for about thirty seconds, and then went on my way. ~33% tip. :D
…That's not, of course, to say that I did it just for the money; I like being nice to people and making them happy.
The only problem that I have with the place is that there's this one server who keeps flirting with me. I'm flattered-don't get me wrong-but…not my type. And having to deal with this server's frequent notes (because that's apparently a more efficient modus loquendi) is really putting a damper on my concentration. I work to make money, to have something to do, and to take my mind off things, and I hate having to deal with yet another thing.
If it weren't for the fact that I constantly conjugate French verbs in my free time on those note pads used for taking orders, I'd be under a lot more stress.
I also keep waking up in the middle of the night, thinking I'm in the middle of taking someone's order. Then I realize I'm in my room. And then I realize that I'm in my room. So I fall back asleep.
This show is hot, hot, hot. Suddenly blond Anna Paquin gives a riveting performance as the assertive, powerful, I-don't-take-crap-from-anyone-and-never-swear, telepathic waitress, Sookie Stackhouse; a sultry, thin-lipped Stephen Moyer portrays brooding, devoted, romantically challenged vampire, Bill Compton; lovably scruffy Sam Trammell plays the ever-cordial, passionate, shape-shifting bar manager, Sam Merlotte; Aussie Ryan Kwanten portrays the hypersexual, undergarment-scorching, ne'er-do-well yokel, Jason Stackhouse; Rutina Wesley plays the pitifully vulnerable, sassy bartender, Tara Thornton;
and the irritatingly easy on the eyes Alexander Skårsgard (pronounced like "SKAHSH-gowd")plays suave vampire ringleader, Eric Northman. There are tons of actors in the main and recurring casts, but those seem to be the most prominent ones. Hence their listing.
I rented the first two seasons last week, and I had to literally pull myself away from my television in order to get even the most basic of bodily functions done. I didn't want to eat, or sleep, or work, or exercise, or shower.I just wanted to watch this show. It's so addicting, and really well done, too (unlike Twilight, which is all "art," no matter). Episode after episode just left me wanting more and more, and thank goodness for Blockbuster.
It's quickly become one of my favorite shows.
Sookie Stackhouse lives in an alternate Earth, an Earth in which vampires, shape-shifters, maenads, and werewolves are all alive and well. A Japanese corporation has recently begun to manufacture True Blood, a sanguine substitute that satisfies all vampiric nutritional needs. It's unclear which came first-the knowledge of the existence of vampires, or True Blood-but regardless, this beverage has allowed vampires to…er…come out, as it were, and make their existence public knowledge.
Now they're seeking equal rights; there's mention of a bill called the VRA-and guess what that stands for-NO, GUESS-that's passing through Congress, there are frequent news talk show appearances by prominent vampire politicians combating fundamentalist Christians left and right while asserting their quasi-humanity and entitlement to privileges thereof. (Yeesh, that sounds formal.) These vampires are not sparkly or vegetarian. Sunlight, even in small doses, causes them to burst into flames, bleed, or become encrusted in ash. Human blood is their sole food source, and can be procured via substitutes like True Blood or feeding from willing donors (who are somewhat like prostitutes, usually). They do have fangs, but these are retractable.
They can see themselves in mirrors; show up in pictures; and are not allergic to neither garlic, "holy" water, or crosses. But silver weakens them enormously. In response to their sudden appearance, there are organizations, such as the über-religious and intolerant Christian group the Fellowship of the Sun, that fiercely oppose their very existence and even develop weapons and armies to destroy them.
Yes, this sounds an awful like the struggle over gay rights.
Creator Alan Ball says such a coincidence is unintentional and "lazy." (Yeah, right.)
In the middle of all this, there's telepathic waitress Sookie, who works with her childhood friend Tara at a Louisianan bar, Merlotte's (which is owned by their mutual friend-and occasional fuck buddy/romantic interest-Sam). One day, in walks 160-odd-year-old vampire, Bill. He quickly strikes up a romantic relationship with Sookie, and the rest is history. By which I mean, Bill inadvertently sucks Sookie deeper and deeper into the vampiric subculture, which is dominated by Sheriff Eric, another initially reluctant love interest. And then there's Sookie's brother, Jason, who sleeps with every woman in sight, briefly becomes a Jesus freak, and then reaches a satisfying midpoint. And all this is done very attractively. (I mean, seriously, does everyone in the cast have so be such a looker?)
I've realized recently one of the many reasons I like the show so much; it fills the sexual fire gap in me that I was too young for Sex and the City to fill, that Six Feet Under was too dark to fill, and that Glee is too comparatively chaste to fill. Bottom line: WATCH.
Best commercials I've seen in a long time.
I've realized that being a waiter, as long as there aren't too many people to serve at once, isn't that difficult or tedious. When I have a maximum of four tables, serving can be somewhat fun. When I have more than that…well, shit gets hard. My second day, I had these two ladies from upstate and this elderly guy outside, a family of four in a booth in the back, an elderly woman with some Christopher Reich book in the middle of the restaurant, and a vaguely dominatrix-looking woman with tangerine hair and a moderately passive boy toy one table over. Suffice it to say, I was able to get everyone his/her food on time, but it was hard, and a customer or two left no tip. Hmpf.
Today, I got a family from fifteen miles outside of Cleveland who drove all the way to New York to see Wicked for the elder daughter's graduation gift. I enthused with them about the awesomeness that is that show for about thirty seconds, and then went on my way. ~33% tip. :D
…That's not, of course, to say that I did it just for the money; I like being nice to people and making them happy.
The only problem that I have with the place is that there's this one server who keeps flirting with me. I'm flattered-don't get me wrong-but…not my type. And having to deal with this server's frequent notes (because that's apparently a more efficient modus loquendi) is really putting a damper on my concentration. I work to make money, to have something to do, and to take my mind off things, and I hate having to deal with yet another thing.
If it weren't for the fact that I constantly conjugate French verbs in my free time on those note pads used for taking orders, I'd be under a lot more stress.
I also keep waking up in the middle of the night, thinking I'm in the middle of taking someone's order. Then I realize I'm in my room. And then I realize that I'm in my room. So I fall back asleep.
Click to viewThis show is hot, hot, hot. Suddenly blond Anna Paquin gives a riveting performance as the assertive, powerful, I-don't-take-crap-from-anyone-and-never-swear, telepathic waitress, Sookie Stackhouse; a sultry, thin-lipped Stephen Moyer portrays brooding, devoted, romantically challenged vampire, Bill Compton; lovably scruffy Sam Trammell plays the ever-cordial, passionate, shape-shifting bar manager, Sam Merlotte; Aussie Ryan Kwanten portrays the hypersexual, undergarment-scorching, ne'er-do-well yokel, Jason Stackhouse; Rutina Wesley plays the pitifully vulnerable, sassy bartender, Tara Thornton;
and the irritatingly easy on the eyes Alexander Skårsgard (pronounced like "SKAHSH-gowd")plays suave vampire ringleader, Eric Northman. There are tons of actors in the main and recurring casts, but those seem to be the most prominent ones. Hence their listing.
I rented the first two seasons last week, and I had to literally pull myself away from my television in order to get even the most basic of bodily functions done. I didn't want to eat, or sleep, or work, or exercise, or shower.I just wanted to watch this show. It's so addicting, and really well done, too (unlike Twilight, which is all "art," no matter). Episode after episode just left me wanting more and more, and thank goodness for Blockbuster.
It's quickly become one of my favorite shows.
Sookie Stackhouse lives in an alternate Earth, an Earth in which vampires, shape-shifters, maenads, and werewolves are all alive and well. A Japanese corporation has recently begun to manufacture True Blood, a sanguine substitute that satisfies all vampiric nutritional needs. It's unclear which came first-the knowledge of the existence of vampires, or True Blood-but regardless, this beverage has allowed vampires to…er…come out, as it were, and make their existence public knowledge.
Now they're seeking equal rights; there's mention of a bill called the VRA-and guess what that stands for-NO, GUESS-that's passing through Congress, there are frequent news talk show appearances by prominent vampire politicians combating fundamentalist Christians left and right while asserting their quasi-humanity and entitlement to privileges thereof. (Yeesh, that sounds formal.) These vampires are not sparkly or vegetarian. Sunlight, even in small doses, causes them to burst into flames, bleed, or become encrusted in ash. Human blood is their sole food source, and can be procured via substitutes like True Blood or feeding from willing donors (who are somewhat like prostitutes, usually). They do have fangs, but these are retractable.
They can see themselves in mirrors; show up in pictures; and are not allergic to neither garlic, "holy" water, or crosses. But silver weakens them enormously. In response to their sudden appearance, there are organizations, such as the über-religious and intolerant Christian group the Fellowship of the Sun, that fiercely oppose their very existence and even develop weapons and armies to destroy them.
Yes, this sounds an awful like the struggle over gay rights.
Creator Alan Ball says such a coincidence is unintentional and "lazy." (Yeah, right.)
In the middle of all this, there's telepathic waitress Sookie, who works with her childhood friend Tara at a Louisianan bar, Merlotte's (which is owned by their mutual friend-and occasional fuck buddy/romantic interest-Sam). One day, in walks 160-odd-year-old vampire, Bill. He quickly strikes up a romantic relationship with Sookie, and the rest is history. By which I mean, Bill inadvertently sucks Sookie deeper and deeper into the vampiric subculture, which is dominated by Sheriff Eric, another initially reluctant love interest. And then there's Sookie's brother, Jason, who sleeps with every woman in sight, briefly becomes a Jesus freak, and then reaches a satisfying midpoint. And all this is done very attractively. (I mean, seriously, does everyone in the cast have so be such a looker?)
I've realized recently one of the many reasons I like the show so much; it fills the sexual fire gap in me that I was too young for Sex and the City to fill, that Six Feet Under was too dark to fill, and that Glee is too comparatively chaste to fill. Bottom line: WATCH.
Best commercials I've seen in a long time.