mmmm good noodle soup...
So another normal day at the Cheesecake Factory, right?
WRONG!
The day started off as usual, me in a good mood, dancing and frolicking like an intoxicated fairy. And of course your tip usually reflects your service and attitude right? Sometimes. Mostly. Ehh. Sometimes. However, out here in wonderful Westlake Village where extremely well-to-do white men live with their plastic wives and their leased BMW's, the tips are not as good as a wealthy man would normally give. Just for starters I thought I'd give you that head ups. But there is a real story here. And it starts now...
About 2 O'clock my super sensitive nose catches scent of something i have not smelled since high school. The smell of flowers and heavy make-up. The aroma of used condoms and Paul Mitchell hairspray. The formidable scent of abercrombie 8 and 99 cent glitter. That smell is non other than Baby prostitute. As my nose follows the smell my head turns to the front of the restaurant where the hostess stand is and i lay my eyes on a plethera of Baby prostitutes and adolescent whores. Of course they are walking in to their own beat (probably Kelly Clarkson-Hazel Eyes) with their superficial salon grown blonde hair swaying from side to side and their Hollister flip flops smacking the ground... all the while their over done eye liner is clumping with their target brand mascara and the smell of Curious by Britney Spears kills on the first inhale from a male.
It was my first Sweet Sixteen Party!
At first you'd think i'd be happy getting a table of hopeful young fans of the 70's house, but no there were many. And then I realized that they were going the other way from my section so an anvil of relief was lifted off my chest.
So they ate...
They laughed...
they gossiped...
they all shared a mini salad...
all 12 of them...
its not easy being a baby prostitute.
Any, at the end of the meal the dad gets up and says, "Honey your present is outside."
I was all excited I was like, "I hope its pony."
Boy was I wrong.(head shaking)
This girl walks out to a Mercedes Benz with a bow on the hood...
(silence)
(jaw drop)
(confused look)
(angry face)
(silence)
WHAT THE FUCK!
"Happy sixteen honey heres a brand new car!"(sarcastic mom voice)
Yeah... theres my day, I would almost be jealous but that girl will never learn any value of life or any responsibilty. But nonetheless, what...the...fuck?!!??
WRONG!
The day started off as usual, me in a good mood, dancing and frolicking like an intoxicated fairy. And of course your tip usually reflects your service and attitude right? Sometimes. Mostly. Ehh. Sometimes. However, out here in wonderful Westlake Village where extremely well-to-do white men live with their plastic wives and their leased BMW's, the tips are not as good as a wealthy man would normally give. Just for starters I thought I'd give you that head ups. But there is a real story here. And it starts now...
About 2 O'clock my super sensitive nose catches scent of something i have not smelled since high school. The smell of flowers and heavy make-up. The aroma of used condoms and Paul Mitchell hairspray. The formidable scent of abercrombie 8 and 99 cent glitter. That smell is non other than Baby prostitute. As my nose follows the smell my head turns to the front of the restaurant where the hostess stand is and i lay my eyes on a plethera of Baby prostitutes and adolescent whores. Of course they are walking in to their own beat (probably Kelly Clarkson-Hazel Eyes) with their superficial salon grown blonde hair swaying from side to side and their Hollister flip flops smacking the ground... all the while their over done eye liner is clumping with their target brand mascara and the smell of Curious by Britney Spears kills on the first inhale from a male.
It was my first Sweet Sixteen Party!
At first you'd think i'd be happy getting a table of hopeful young fans of the 70's house, but no there were many. And then I realized that they were going the other way from my section so an anvil of relief was lifted off my chest.
So they ate...
They laughed...
they gossiped...
they all shared a mini salad...
all 12 of them...
its not easy being a baby prostitute.
Any, at the end of the meal the dad gets up and says, "Honey your present is outside."
I was all excited I was like, "I hope its pony."
Boy was I wrong.(head shaking)
This girl walks out to a Mercedes Benz with a bow on the hood...
(silence)
(jaw drop)
(confused look)
(angry face)
(silence)
WHAT THE FUCK!
"Happy sixteen honey heres a brand new car!"(sarcastic mom voice)
Yeah... theres my day, I would almost be jealous but that girl will never learn any value of life or any responsibilty. But nonetheless, what...the...fuck?!!??