unanimous crap mandate
stress. i have plenty. and i know where it comes from. so finally, i decided to eliminate one of its major sources.
1. weasel my way into a full time position at VIP.
2. quit that fucking restaurant.
done and done.
reasons i quit the restaurant, including but not limited to:
my boss. the cambridge liberal trust fund muppet who thinks he can talk to me like i'm a fucking idiot just because i didn't go to college and get a fancy piece of paper that says i'm capable of anything other than "waitress" or "cashier". he's the most unbearable person i've ever worked for, and it's completely unecessary. i get there on time, i do my fucking job. i really don't get it. i still can't decide if he just enjoys talking to people like that or if it's because of his piss poor social skills. i can't even count the times where i've had to turn around, squeeze my fists, count to ten, and say to myself: "shut your mouth, you'll lose your job."
the lunch crowd. fucking dildo headed casual friday office park dork-a-trons with gingivitis who order like douchebags and never tip. i realize it's a cafeteria style restaurant, yes. i know you don't HAVE to tip. but if you get 3 rounds of beer and don't even drop a fucking dime in the bucket, then fuck you! I'M GLAD I USED MY EARWAX TO DISSOLVE THE FOAM OFF THE TOP OF YOUR SAM ADAMS YOU CHEAP PIECE OF SHIT!
people who order:
corona. way to drink piss.
heineken. way to drink cat piss.
people with poor taste irritate me.
salad eating bitches. you know who they are.
"oh i'll just have a salad. do you have salads?"
you're in a BBQ restaurant bitch, don't insult me with your "salad" talk. order a pulled pork sandwich and grow some fucking curves like us normal women.
people with kids. not only do they make large orders and never tip, but their stupid brats bitch and moan, disturb the other customers, and make a huge fucking mess of the table (which i have to clean up, thus making it even more unfair that they didn't tip me.) lock those fucking things up until they're well behaved enough to be brought in public please.
i hate people so much.
there's more. but i'll just stress myself out by getting into it.
the only customers i don't want to strangle are the working class slobs and billerica bikers who are always super friendly, funny, and tend to even OVER tip me. the other night these guys left me a 12 dollar tip on a 35 dollar bill. that really made me hate the world a lot less that night.
anyways, i'm out of there in 2 weeks. i'll miss the kitchen guys, rodrigo, marcos, matteo and vava (even though he is a little creepy.) and rose and cathy of course. oh yeah, and the FOOD. oh my god, the food. imma have withdrawals. i'm gonna have to take some carolina gold sauce with me and inject it like methodone.
oh well. one stress source down. next i'm gonna have to work on the road rage.
i've decided that boston sucks. everyone is lame. i've been going to shows and hanging out around here since i was 13, so therefore it's taken me about 10 years to get sick of it. that's a pretty good run i think. then again, i have the patience of a saint. either i'm gonna have to get the fuck out of here for a while, or people are gonna have to stop sucking so bad. these people are making me hate my own city (which most of them aren't even from, btw.) "skinheads" make me not even want to be one anymore. someone revive my faith. show me the light.
i've also decided that there are 2 kinds of sub-cult people. people who existed before the internet, and people who exist because of the internet. to the latter, you know who you are. and you ruin it for everyone.
so i just registered myself, ian clark and doug for the motorcycle safety course. seems like a good deal, 10% off insurance and you leave with your license. plus, i know how to ride a vespa, but not a regular bike yet. learning the "shift with your foot" thing without dumping my own bike sounds fair.
like i said to erin, "fuck it, i'm chopping my front fringes off. and from then on i'm just gonna be a fat tattooed biker bitch with a mullet. i just need some more stretch marks."
oh and i love my boyfriend. for not being lame.
*edit*
i wasn't gonna get all emo about this, but fuck it.
my best friend left for the military on tuesday, and i'm sad.
so while she's off learning to jump out of planes and defend our country, i'm gonna be sitting here pulling my hair out and igniting my own flatulence.
she would have laughed at that for sure. i miss her already.
1. weasel my way into a full time position at VIP.
2. quit that fucking restaurant.
done and done.
reasons i quit the restaurant, including but not limited to:
my boss. the cambridge liberal trust fund muppet who thinks he can talk to me like i'm a fucking idiot just because i didn't go to college and get a fancy piece of paper that says i'm capable of anything other than "waitress" or "cashier". he's the most unbearable person i've ever worked for, and it's completely unecessary. i get there on time, i do my fucking job. i really don't get it. i still can't decide if he just enjoys talking to people like that or if it's because of his piss poor social skills. i can't even count the times where i've had to turn around, squeeze my fists, count to ten, and say to myself: "shut your mouth, you'll lose your job."
the lunch crowd. fucking dildo headed casual friday office park dork-a-trons with gingivitis who order like douchebags and never tip. i realize it's a cafeteria style restaurant, yes. i know you don't HAVE to tip. but if you get 3 rounds of beer and don't even drop a fucking dime in the bucket, then fuck you! I'M GLAD I USED MY EARWAX TO DISSOLVE THE FOAM OFF THE TOP OF YOUR SAM ADAMS YOU CHEAP PIECE OF SHIT!
people who order:
corona. way to drink piss.
heineken. way to drink cat piss.
people with poor taste irritate me.
salad eating bitches. you know who they are.
"oh i'll just have a salad. do you have salads?"
you're in a BBQ restaurant bitch, don't insult me with your "salad" talk. order a pulled pork sandwich and grow some fucking curves like us normal women.
people with kids. not only do they make large orders and never tip, but their stupid brats bitch and moan, disturb the other customers, and make a huge fucking mess of the table (which i have to clean up, thus making it even more unfair that they didn't tip me.) lock those fucking things up until they're well behaved enough to be brought in public please.
i hate people so much.
there's more. but i'll just stress myself out by getting into it.
the only customers i don't want to strangle are the working class slobs and billerica bikers who are always super friendly, funny, and tend to even OVER tip me. the other night these guys left me a 12 dollar tip on a 35 dollar bill. that really made me hate the world a lot less that night.
anyways, i'm out of there in 2 weeks. i'll miss the kitchen guys, rodrigo, marcos, matteo and vava (even though he is a little creepy.) and rose and cathy of course. oh yeah, and the FOOD. oh my god, the food. imma have withdrawals. i'm gonna have to take some carolina gold sauce with me and inject it like methodone.
oh well. one stress source down. next i'm gonna have to work on the road rage.
i've decided that boston sucks. everyone is lame. i've been going to shows and hanging out around here since i was 13, so therefore it's taken me about 10 years to get sick of it. that's a pretty good run i think. then again, i have the patience of a saint. either i'm gonna have to get the fuck out of here for a while, or people are gonna have to stop sucking so bad. these people are making me hate my own city (which most of them aren't even from, btw.) "skinheads" make me not even want to be one anymore. someone revive my faith. show me the light.
i've also decided that there are 2 kinds of sub-cult people. people who existed before the internet, and people who exist because of the internet. to the latter, you know who you are. and you ruin it for everyone.
so i just registered myself, ian clark and doug for the motorcycle safety course. seems like a good deal, 10% off insurance and you leave with your license. plus, i know how to ride a vespa, but not a regular bike yet. learning the "shift with your foot" thing without dumping my own bike sounds fair.
like i said to erin, "fuck it, i'm chopping my front fringes off. and from then on i'm just gonna be a fat tattooed biker bitch with a mullet. i just need some more stretch marks."
oh and i love my boyfriend. for not being lame.
*edit*
i wasn't gonna get all emo about this, but fuck it.
my best friend left for the military on tuesday, and i'm sad.
so while she's off learning to jump out of planes and defend our country, i'm gonna be sitting here pulling my hair out and igniting my own flatulence.
she would have laughed at that for sure. i miss her already.