Sunday
It's 9.16 Sunday morning. I just got home from Marie's house, that little Churchgoing Mormon girl. Let's rewind and review my weekend.
*vision gets fuzzy and the whole weekend goes in reverse*
Friday:
Friday I took my dreaded Algebra II test. I didn't do any homework for the chapter. I was 50/50 on how to do everything by the time homework came around. I did parts of the review packet and took the test. I finished. I didn't think it was that bad... which means I probably did horribly on it. That's how it always goes.
After school, work rolled around. It's hot and humid outside. I work in a kitchen by monstrous 400 degree ovens. 80% of the staff smokes, and they all smoke around me. As all of you know, I'm Amy, the Asthmatic Girl Wonder. I had a total of four asthma attacks Friday. I couldn't leave early because a party of 40 people came in, those bastards. Who the hell wants to eat there, anyway? So I stayed until 10.00. I had to use my inhaler 4 times during the night. My doctor said I'm supposed to use it two times, tops. After that I need to take liquid albuterol, lie down, and go to the hospital if it gets worse. Using it four times, she said, was the worst thing I could have done. Apparently, I could have died. I can't work there anymore. It's only going to get hotter. I physically cannot do it. My respiratory system sucks ass. What sucks more ass is Sarah, one of my bosses.
I called work around 3.15 yesterday to call off. I told Sarah I wouldn't be able to come in because I wasn't feeling well. She just told me they were shorthanded and really needed me to come in. I told her I'd talk to my dad. WTF. I stayed four more hours than I was almost phsyically able to last night. No way in hell I'm coming on an even hotter day. My life > your precious fucking dishes. You seat people. You take orders. Then you stand around. Lose some weight and wash a fucking dish while I take a fucking breather, literally. Friday she told me that we had more customers than we had dishes, so I would have to stay. THIS IS A FUCKING RESTUARANT, NO? BUY SOME MORE GODDAMN DISHES.
My dad went in to work (he works there part time) and told them I can't come back to work until they put me on phones.
I need a new place to work. I will work anywhere I can as long as I'm not exposed to conditions like State Line. Anything I can do.
/rant
Saturday:
Saturday, I went to Robert's house for a little bit. I had to come home around four, but at least I got to see him. :)
I came home and played KH2 for a bit. I beat Port Royal and part of Agrabah. Michelle and I were dicking around as usual, and she said one of the funniest things, ever.
Amy: I want to be president.
Michelle: Don't be president. Some hick from the South will think there shouldn't be a woman president and will kill you.
Amy: So the moral of the story is don't stereotype by gender, but it's okay to call people hicks?
Michelle: No... But still. Presidents get assassinated.
Amy: I know, I know.
Michelle: John Wilkes Booth. Did he shoot Abraham Lincoln, or John Lennon?
*burst of laughter*
Michelle: No... seriously. Abe Lincoln, right?
So after those shenanigans, Marie came over. We did a whole lotta nothing. Then we went to Walt's. We bought the craziest stuff we could find, including a mug for me that says "The Boss." It's pretty sweet. Then we went to her house and read Seventeen magazine. That's about it.
Too long of an update. Time to clean my room. Peace.
*vision gets fuzzy and the whole weekend goes in reverse*
Friday:
Friday I took my dreaded Algebra II test. I didn't do any homework for the chapter. I was 50/50 on how to do everything by the time homework came around. I did parts of the review packet and took the test. I finished. I didn't think it was that bad... which means I probably did horribly on it. That's how it always goes.
After school, work rolled around. It's hot and humid outside. I work in a kitchen by monstrous 400 degree ovens. 80% of the staff smokes, and they all smoke around me. As all of you know, I'm Amy, the Asthmatic Girl Wonder. I had a total of four asthma attacks Friday. I couldn't leave early because a party of 40 people came in, those bastards. Who the hell wants to eat there, anyway? So I stayed until 10.00. I had to use my inhaler 4 times during the night. My doctor said I'm supposed to use it two times, tops. After that I need to take liquid albuterol, lie down, and go to the hospital if it gets worse. Using it four times, she said, was the worst thing I could have done. Apparently, I could have died. I can't work there anymore. It's only going to get hotter. I physically cannot do it. My respiratory system sucks ass. What sucks more ass is Sarah, one of my bosses.
I called work around 3.15 yesterday to call off. I told Sarah I wouldn't be able to come in because I wasn't feeling well. She just told me they were shorthanded and really needed me to come in. I told her I'd talk to my dad. WTF. I stayed four more hours than I was almost phsyically able to last night. No way in hell I'm coming on an even hotter day. My life > your precious fucking dishes. You seat people. You take orders. Then you stand around. Lose some weight and wash a fucking dish while I take a fucking breather, literally. Friday she told me that we had more customers than we had dishes, so I would have to stay. THIS IS A FUCKING RESTUARANT, NO? BUY SOME MORE GODDAMN DISHES.
My dad went in to work (he works there part time) and told them I can't come back to work until they put me on phones.
I need a new place to work. I will work anywhere I can as long as I'm not exposed to conditions like State Line. Anything I can do.
/rant
Saturday:
Saturday, I went to Robert's house for a little bit. I had to come home around four, but at least I got to see him. :)
I came home and played KH2 for a bit. I beat Port Royal and part of Agrabah. Michelle and I were dicking around as usual, and she said one of the funniest things, ever.
Amy: I want to be president.
Michelle: Don't be president. Some hick from the South will think there shouldn't be a woman president and will kill you.
Amy: So the moral of the story is don't stereotype by gender, but it's okay to call people hicks?
Michelle: No... But still. Presidents get assassinated.
Amy: I know, I know.
Michelle: John Wilkes Booth. Did he shoot Abraham Lincoln, or John Lennon?
*burst of laughter*
Michelle: No... seriously. Abe Lincoln, right?
So after those shenanigans, Marie came over. We did a whole lotta nothing. Then we went to Walt's. We bought the craziest stuff we could find, including a mug for me that says "The Boss." It's pretty sweet. Then we went to her house and read Seventeen magazine. That's about it.
Too long of an update. Time to clean my room. Peace.