(no subject)
I don't know what's happening to me. But it's totally fucked. I lost all of the grip I kinda might have used to have on reality today AND THATS A FACT.
Durrning the middle of a full blow "episode" in the middle of the dinner rush at work I started crying...laughing hysterically...rubbing my eyeballs...moaning and then proceeded to pick myself up off the floor and decided I could go on as long as i countinued to hum "hey there little insect" over and over until my shifts end when i could get to my car, get to steve, get to a bottle of valium and a bottle of liquor and get to the bottom of things.
This...this kind of fucked up "thing" should never be induced because a man asks you "what's wrong with this picture?!" as he waves his hands theatrically over the table top. You're standing there with plates stacked up to your neck, a migrane bigger than your head and like 12 tables waiting for long island iced teas and nasty scotch on the rocks with one ice cube..."I dont know sir....some napkins? salad dressing? a blow job?" what can I get you shithead?.....he waits and waits and when he finally decides that Im just some idiot bastard waitress he decides to tell me that he's missing a fork and knife set. And I got right on that. another satisfied customer.
and I like that as I'm cying in a corner with with spaghetti sauce all over me and a cigarette hanging out of my mouth, my manager asks me if I can work tomorrow morning and "do us a favor"....yes joe....rob me of all my not really there anyways mental health that was kinda hanging on....fuck
january 5th...have no worries. I will be medicated from there on out. If work doesnt kill me before then.
Durrning the middle of a full blow "episode" in the middle of the dinner rush at work I started crying...laughing hysterically...rubbing my eyeballs...moaning and then proceeded to pick myself up off the floor and decided I could go on as long as i countinued to hum "hey there little insect" over and over until my shifts end when i could get to my car, get to steve, get to a bottle of valium and a bottle of liquor and get to the bottom of things.
This...this kind of fucked up "thing" should never be induced because a man asks you "what's wrong with this picture?!" as he waves his hands theatrically over the table top. You're standing there with plates stacked up to your neck, a migrane bigger than your head and like 12 tables waiting for long island iced teas and nasty scotch on the rocks with one ice cube..."I dont know sir....some napkins? salad dressing? a blow job?" what can I get you shithead?.....he waits and waits and when he finally decides that Im just some idiot bastard waitress he decides to tell me that he's missing a fork and knife set. And I got right on that. another satisfied customer.
and I like that as I'm cying in a corner with with spaghetti sauce all over me and a cigarette hanging out of my mouth, my manager asks me if I can work tomorrow morning and "do us a favor"....yes joe....rob me of all my not really there anyways mental health that was kinda hanging on....fuck
january 5th...have no worries. I will be medicated from there on out. If work doesnt kill me before then.