I think we all have little foibles unique to each of us. Humorous or not, they’re part of life. One of my biggest fears has to do with swimming in and around docks, especially big, old rusty docks. My grandparents have a lake house where all we do is swim, usually away from the docks, but we’re always around them. If I were ever pushed in by the docks, I would freak out and climb out as soon as I could.
Maybe it’s the looming possibility of a sea monster coming up from the depths, or that everything that I touch is covered in slimy moss, algae, and creepy crawlies that makes me despise being aywhere around those old rotting docks. The aged, green, smelly styrophome that the wood sits on just doesnt to it for me. I used to never be able to get in the water. Now, if I had to, I would, but I won’t like it. Everyone I’ve talked to doesn’t blame me; those docks at the lake are down right scary. I suppose they’re so scary because under the water lies unknown territory, and difficult to explore. There is no way of telling what is down there, which is very daunting. There could be hungry jaws waiting to gobble me up, or it could just be a refreshing swim.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Tooth Brushers Anonymous
“Hey Mandi, come here!” my little sister yelled from the bathroom. Oh no! Not again. I ran and dived into that small place between the couch and the wall hoping I was fast enough to get there before she came running out of the bathroom. I wasn’t. I heard her veer towards the couch. I frantically put my hands over my ears and hoped it was enough to stop her. It wasn’t. I looked up just in time to see her little impish face peer over the couch with a wide grin. Then she did the worst thing I could possible imagine. SHE STARTED BRUSHING HER TEETH! Even thinking about the whole thing makes me shudder and still gives me goose bumps (or as a friend of mine likes to call it, it gives me bumps of geese) It was just so traumatic! Now don’t get me wrong, I am all for dental hygiene and I think people should brush their teeth but I just don’t want to be around when they do it. You see, I can’t stand the sound of the bristles scratching across people’s molars with that “chish chish chish” noise. I guess the best way to describe it would be to liken it to nails on a chalkboard or scratching a fork on a plate. When I hear it I just want to stick my fingers in my ears and curl up in the fetal position on the floor and start humming “The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round” or something! It’s just down right awful.
Now I am sure you wondering so I will just go ahead and tell you, yes I still brush my teeth. However that doesn’t mean I enjoy it. Although I use an electronic toothbrush to mask the sound, I still find the whole process to be rather disgusting. Just think about it for a second. First you take a potent glob of oozing goo that is so “minty fresh” that it makes your eyes water and you squeeze it on a stick. Then you cake it on to your teeth and begin foaming like a rabid dog… Pleasant? I think not! Some my argue that “your mouth taste better after you brush your teeth,” but that is what gum or Tic-Tacs are for! Besides, have you ever tried drinking orange juice after you brush? DI-GUSTING!! Brushing your teeth is getting in the way of you living your life! If the prospect of our choppers turning black and rotting out wasn’t an issue I would advocate for us to put the whole silly ritual behind for good!
“Hey Mandi, come here!” my little sister yelled from the bathroom. Oh no! Not again. I ran and dived into that small place between the couch and the wall hoping I was fast enough to get there before she came running out of the bathroom. I wasn’t. I heard her veer towards the couch. I frantically put my hands over my ears and hoped it was enough to stop her. It wasn’t. I looked up just in time to see her little impish face peer over the couch with a wide grin. Then she did the worst thing I could possible imagine. SHE STARTED BRUSHING HER TEETH! Even thinking about the whole thing makes me shudder and still gives me goose bumps (or as a friend of mine likes to call it, it gives me bumps of geese) It was just so traumatic! Now don’t get me wrong, I am all for dental hygiene and I think people should brush their teeth but I just don’t want to be around when they do it. You see, I can’t stand the sound of the bristles scratching across people’s molars with that “chish chish chish” noise. I guess the best way to describe it would be to liken it to nails on a chalkboard or scratching a fork on a plate. When I hear it I just want to stick my fingers in my ears and curl up in the fetal position on the floor and start humming “The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round” or something! It’s just down right awful.
Now I am sure you wondering so I will just go ahead and tell you, yes I still brush my teeth. However that doesn’t mean I enjoy it. Although I use an electronic toothbrush to mask the sound, I still find the whole process to be rather disgusting. Just think about it for a second. First you take a potent glob of oozing goo that is so “minty fresh” that it makes your eyes water and you squeeze it on a stick. Then you cake it on to your teeth and begin foaming like a rabid dog… Pleasant? I think not! Some my argue that “your mouth taste better after you brush your teeth,” but that is what gum or Tic-Tacs are for! Besides, have you ever tried drinking orange juice after you brush? DI-GUSTING!! Brushing your teeth is getting in the way of you living your life! If the prospect of our choppers turning black and rotting out wasn’t an issue I would advocate for us to put the whole silly ritual behind for good!
Irritations By my Family
My family irritates me the most. There are three things about my family that irritate me. First off my mom, she somehow gets under my skin almost every day. She will call me constantly throughout the day. Maybe constantly is an understatement. She tends to call me at least ten to fifteen times a day. In some cases she calls me back to back. We will be on the phone talking and then hang-up, like five seconds later she calls and says oh I forgot to tell you this. It seems to be the dumbest things. She called me once and left a message saying hey my debit card expired, has yours. I didn’t understand the point of this phone call because mine does not expire till 2011. It’s the little things she does that irritates me the most. Another time she called me to tell me she was eating a bowl of soup and my weenie dog was standing on her back legs and she didn’t have a treat to give here. Although the story was cute, the phone call could have waited or she could have told me in person. When I’m home, she will call me constantly to check on me. My family says she just misses me a lot now that I’m in college. When i was at Ole Miss my freshmen year, she showed up during finals to help me. I didn’t ask her to come and I didn’t believe she was in town. When i drove by the hotel, her car was there.
Second is when I’m around my brother. The older i get the more protective my brother comes. When i get a boyfriend now he tries to be my dad, this irritates me. When i want to do something he always has something to say. We don’t seem to be able to have a civil conversation.
The third thing that irritates me is when people pick their nails. I don’t know how i can hear the noise but i do. It’s like someone scratching their nails down. It sends a chill down my body. My sister use to pick her nails all the time just to annoy me. When im in curch my dad always picks his nails. He does this because he knows I can’t say anything during church. He sits there and laughs at me. I can hear this picking noise over music and the TV. I don’t know why this noise annoys me. But as time goes on my family loves to make it so i get mad. I guess it bothers me so much because it’s like hearing water drip, someone scratching their nails down a chalkboard, or a weird noise you hear that you can’t stop. I love my family to death but they irritate me.
Second is when I’m around my brother. The older i get the more protective my brother comes. When i get a boyfriend now he tries to be my dad, this irritates me. When i want to do something he always has something to say. We don’t seem to be able to have a civil conversation.
The third thing that irritates me is when people pick their nails. I don’t know how i can hear the noise but i do. It’s like someone scratching their nails down. It sends a chill down my body. My sister use to pick her nails all the time just to annoy me. When im in curch my dad always picks his nails. He does this because he knows I can’t say anything during church. He sits there and laughs at me. I can hear this picking noise over music and the TV. I don’t know why this noise annoys me. But as time goes on my family loves to make it so i get mad. I guess it bothers me so much because it’s like hearing water drip, someone scratching their nails down a chalkboard, or a weird noise you hear that you can’t stop. I love my family to death but they irritate me.
Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder...I know!
I have to be the world's craziest person when it comes to relationships. I can't seem to make local relationships work out. So, on February 14 while all my friends are going out, I'm not. The reason why is pretty simple. My boyfriend lives 9 hours away. The normal reaction people have to that information is, " Whoa, good luck with that!" I seriously doubt they are being sincere.
Anyway, since my boyfriend lives way out in West Texas, he's not flying in until the end of the month. At times, it really sucks! Mostly this week since "National Single Awareness Day" is this weekend. Even though I'm not single, I feel like it since I don't have a date for Saturday.
So, I do believe that absences makes the heart grow fonder. WE have been dating six months now and things are going really well. I always tell my friends that, " when you find a good one, you can't let them go, even if you rarely see them!" I do firmly believce that our used cell phone minutes and text messages could be concrete evidence on how a persons heart really can go fonder due to absence.
We never aregue like couples who are together all the time because our time together is so short. I really do cherish our time we have together, because who knows when I will see the guy again! A lot of people don't understand why anyone would have a long distance relationship. Well, I can honestly say that I am a lot fonder of him with rarely ever getting to see him!
It's a sad Valentine's Day for me, but I fully support the "Love" theme for everyone who has a "local" valentine!
Anyway, since my boyfriend lives way out in West Texas, he's not flying in until the end of the month. At times, it really sucks! Mostly this week since "National Single Awareness Day" is this weekend. Even though I'm not single, I feel like it since I don't have a date for Saturday.
So, I do believe that absences makes the heart grow fonder. WE have been dating six months now and things are going really well. I always tell my friends that, " when you find a good one, you can't let them go, even if you rarely see them!" I do firmly believce that our used cell phone minutes and text messages could be concrete evidence on how a persons heart really can go fonder due to absence.
We never aregue like couples who are together all the time because our time together is so short. I really do cherish our time we have together, because who knows when I will see the guy again! A lot of people don't understand why anyone would have a long distance relationship. Well, I can honestly say that I am a lot fonder of him with rarely ever getting to see him!
It's a sad Valentine's Day for me, but I fully support the "Love" theme for everyone who has a "local" valentine!
The Journey
The Journey
I met this guy who was short and stumpy. He had blonde hair and blue eyes. I was a freshman and he was my first serious boyfriend. We said we loved one another and thought we would be together forever. That ended badly. The cussing and the stalking finally ended, not to worry.
I was a sophomore and found a nice guy who liked agriculture. I got sick one day and he brought me some chicken noodle soup and that was the end of that. Also as a sophomore I met another guy, probably wondering how many I had through school, he liked to coon hunt (raccoon), I like the outdoorsy type. That lasted a short time; I think he liked his blue tick hound more than he did me.
My junior year I met this new guy that was very sweet, but a little too sweet. He also wore skater shoes and liked to play the guitar, let’s just say we didn’t have much in common. He also acted like girls were incapable of doing anything by their selves. I thought it was sweet at first then it became quite annoying, like a screaming kid. This guy was gone as fast as a crappy skate board.
The end of my junior year I met this tall, skinny, dark haired boy with blue eyes that could convince anyone of anything. He was a baseball player and that made my heart stop. Dreamy I know, but this one, I don’t know intrigued me. We became the best of friends and started dating; we have laughed and cried together. That’s right girls guys do cry sometimes.
It has been five years since I met the baseball player, but till this day, he is the love of my life and my best friend. I guess that I learned from experience there are lots of fish in the sea but, I wanted my Bugs (Nathan), not just any old fish. Who would have thought from the beginning I would have had a guy this long, I thought I was becoming the girl who knew how to lose a guy in ten days. So girls there is hope, I promise!
I met this guy who was short and stumpy. He had blonde hair and blue eyes. I was a freshman and he was my first serious boyfriend. We said we loved one another and thought we would be together forever. That ended badly. The cussing and the stalking finally ended, not to worry.
I was a sophomore and found a nice guy who liked agriculture. I got sick one day and he brought me some chicken noodle soup and that was the end of that. Also as a sophomore I met another guy, probably wondering how many I had through school, he liked to coon hunt (raccoon), I like the outdoorsy type. That lasted a short time; I think he liked his blue tick hound more than he did me.
My junior year I met this new guy that was very sweet, but a little too sweet. He also wore skater shoes and liked to play the guitar, let’s just say we didn’t have much in common. He also acted like girls were incapable of doing anything by their selves. I thought it was sweet at first then it became quite annoying, like a screaming kid. This guy was gone as fast as a crappy skate board.
The end of my junior year I met this tall, skinny, dark haired boy with blue eyes that could convince anyone of anything. He was a baseball player and that made my heart stop. Dreamy I know, but this one, I don’t know intrigued me. We became the best of friends and started dating; we have laughed and cried together. That’s right girls guys do cry sometimes.
It has been five years since I met the baseball player, but till this day, he is the love of my life and my best friend. I guess that I learned from experience there are lots of fish in the sea but, I wanted my Bugs (Nathan), not just any old fish. Who would have thought from the beginning I would have had a guy this long, I thought I was becoming the girl who knew how to lose a guy in ten days. So girls there is hope, I promise!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Is it worth living in this world?
Many times we have felt that life is not worth living.
In an extreme case, I heard on the radio a woman who said: "I do not want to have children, because they only come to this world to suffer. And I want to save them this suffering.
In an extreme case, I heard on the radio a woman who said: "I do not want to have children, because they only come to this world to suffer. And I want to save them this suffering.
“But ... life is really like that? Or do we make it like that? What really makes you suffer is not the life itself ... is your expectations about how the world should be or how that person should act. If you suffer because life is cruel ... it's because you have a wrong concept of what it really is.
Imagine that you think that a forest should be a forest with lots of flowers, clean rivers, running deer, a sun shining and a gentle rain. But when you go, oh what a surprise! There are also insects, snakes and rain ... it's a deluge! "It’s not worth it being in this forest, it is horrible! There’s snakes, bugs. I hate it!" But it does not really make sense right? Basically you know that this is a forest. Not like you thought it was. What you can do is to be vigilant against snakes. Also, cover your self in case it rains. And enjoy the roses and see the deer! You just accept nature as it is and do not regret it. You just adapt to it.
Life is like that. When we see it as a complete package, where there is love, death, painful failures and unforgettable moments, you accept it the way it is. From this acceptance, you can adjust to it.
Pain and loss are a great opportunity to rethink how we live life. I confess that I normally walk around the forest, away from people, when the storms of life make things difficult.
It gives me a brief space to reflect on current challenges and rethink my new goals in life. If not for that, I would have gone mad by now. I recommend you do the same.
It gives me a brief space to reflect on current challenges and rethink my new goals in life. If not for that, I would have gone mad by now. I recommend you do the same.
Find a daily reflection.
We are all products of our reactions to challenges. We made beautiful ravines by the storms of life. Generally, the best opportunities for our life come disguised as problems. No matter what these are, there is always a solution.
Enjoy life as it is!
The "Don't Touch My Face!!" Phobia
When I was in seventh grade I had considerably bad acne. It wasn't the worst case of acne on the planet, but it was bad enough to make me self-conscious about it. I tried all of the over-the-counter medications but none of those really worked. Wow I sound like a Proactiv commercial. Anyway, I went to see a dermatologist and he prescribed me a facial cream and told me something that would affect me for the rest of my life.
He first asked me if I touched my face often. By that he meant resting my chin in the palm of my hand, rubbing my face with my hands, constantly scratching or wiping my face with the palms of my hands. I said yes, I do it all the time. To which he explained to me when I do those things, I am transferring all of the dirt, sweat, oil and grease from the palms of my hands into the pores of my skin. The thought of the process really grossed me out. When he told me that, I had a little slide-show go off in my head like they do in the acne commercials. The ones that show dirt and oil going into the skin and then pimples popping up. I was scarred for life.
To this day I refuse to rest any part of my face in the palm of my hand. The only exception for touching my face is when I'm washing it. If someone offered me $20 to rest my face in the palm of my hand, I'd have to think hard about doing it. I would probably do it for $20, but I would be really grossed out and would go wash my face immediately afterwards. Even when I get an itch on my face I use my shirt or something to scratch it. If I'm in class I might use my pen or pencil.
It's definitely a weird phobia to have. Only a few people know this about me. Mainly close friends and family members. It's kind of funny. So funny to the point that some people mess with me about it and I can't say I blame them. My mom, for example, will sometimes act like she is going to wipe my face with her hand because she knows it bothers me. I can't say that it's noticeable, unless I'm scratching my face with my shirt or something. No one has ever called me out on it that I can remember. I believe I will probably always be this way. It's weird because I make it sound like a serious condition, but I guess it's a good problem to have, to a certain extent.
He first asked me if I touched my face often. By that he meant resting my chin in the palm of my hand, rubbing my face with my hands, constantly scratching or wiping my face with the palms of my hands. I said yes, I do it all the time. To which he explained to me when I do those things, I am transferring all of the dirt, sweat, oil and grease from the palms of my hands into the pores of my skin. The thought of the process really grossed me out. When he told me that, I had a little slide-show go off in my head like they do in the acne commercials. The ones that show dirt and oil going into the skin and then pimples popping up. I was scarred for life.
To this day I refuse to rest any part of my face in the palm of my hand. The only exception for touching my face is when I'm washing it. If someone offered me $20 to rest my face in the palm of my hand, I'd have to think hard about doing it. I would probably do it for $20, but I would be really grossed out and would go wash my face immediately afterwards. Even when I get an itch on my face I use my shirt or something to scratch it. If I'm in class I might use my pen or pencil.
It's definitely a weird phobia to have. Only a few people know this about me. Mainly close friends and family members. It's kind of funny. So funny to the point that some people mess with me about it and I can't say I blame them. My mom, for example, will sometimes act like she is going to wipe my face with her hand because she knows it bothers me. I can't say that it's noticeable, unless I'm scratching my face with my shirt or something. No one has ever called me out on it that I can remember. I believe I will probably always be this way. It's weird because I make it sound like a serious condition, but I guess it's a good problem to have, to a certain extent.
What is irritating me right now.......
I don't really get irritated that easy, but there is one thing that has been increasingly irritating each day. I have a wonderful roommate. I have absolutely no complaints about her. She is also a really good friend of mine. She started dating this guy a couple months ago and since then he has been around night and day. I love her boyfriend, he is a great guy. However, three is a crowd in an apartment. I understand that they want to be together, but does he have to be here, literally 24/7. He is even here when she is not sometimes, and that's just super weird. Many times when they are here, they are not even in the same room. She will be studying for hours in her room with the door closed, while he is in the living room watching TV. I don't have a lot of time to relax and just lay on the couch and watch TV. When I finally get time to do this, her boyfriend is always on the couch watching one of the many shows he has recorded on our DVR. I feel awkward making him stop his shows, so I just go back in my room. He even showers and does laundry at our place. The worst part is he washes like one thing at a time and that really drives me nuts. He even bought his own food to keep at our place. It is already crowded with me and my roommate's food. I just can not understand why he does not do this stuff at his house. He has a really nice place with his own bedroom and bathroom. He has his own key and sometimes he just shows up and lets himself in. One of these times happened to be when I was sitting on the couch in just a t-shirt and my underwear......talk about awkward. They never hang out at his place. I want to say something, but I don't want to make things weird between my roommate and I. That just makes the situation that much more irritating!
Pepper in Some Irritation
I am easily irritated. Not easily made mad. Easily irritated. When a person irritates me (people are usually what irritate me), chances are they will never know I was even remotely irritated. Why? Because that's my job. And the only emotion I can show is that of pure excitement and joy to serve you, the guest. GO TEAM!
When going out to dinner, the server is taken for granted by nearly every guest.
Work doesn't irritate me. I love my job. However the people I come in contact with, down right irritating sometimes. Case in point, Wednesday evening, table 1.
Hi, welcome to Chili's. My name is Deidre, I'll be
I'll have a Diet Coke, he'll have a water.
*yay interruptions!*
...Okay, would you like to start out with some
No.
...Let me get those drinks for you. :)
---
I asked for no ice in my Diet Coke.
*no she didn't*
Oh, yes ma'am my mistake, I'm sorry, I'll fix you a new one.
---
Are you ready to order or do you need some more time?
We're not ready.
Okay I'll come back.
---
Do you have any questions or are you ready?
I have a question. Could you give us MORE time?
Yes ma'am.
*this is retarded, it's been almost ten minutes since they opened the menu*
some time later--
Ma'am. MA'AM!
*the woman is shouting at me because I haven't taken her order I assume. She probably
thinks I'm neglecting her. And why is she calling me ma'am, I'm fucking nineteen years old.*
Yes? :)
We're ready now. He'll have the Triple the Cheese Big Mouth Burger.
Is medium-well okay on that?
No. No pink. We don't want no pink.
*don't want no. My God.*
All right, well done it is.
And I'll have the Cobb Salad. No corn relish, no eggs, grilled chicken not fried, no
fried chicken, put some of them tortilla strips on there, and extra bacon.
*wow. I hate you. I hate you because you said the word TOR-TILL-A not TOR-TEE-YA. You
redneck son of a bee.*
All right, I'll put that in for you. :)
I'm not done. I want two sides of ranch. ON THE SIDE, you got that? No dressing on top. I also want romaine lettuce, not iceberg.
Wow, that's QUITE a salad. Is that all?
I need another Diet Coke.
Absolutely.
*you don't NEED a damn thing*
No ice!
Yes ma'am, I remember.
*I overhear the woman saying "well she didn't remember the first time."
So, this woman is a bitch and the reason people want to carry firearms.
After I get my other tables everything they need, because believe it or not! I have other people to take care of and cannot spend all my time catering to this old hag, I then put their order in. They can wait. :P You shouldn't fuck with people that are in charge of your food, honestly.
This is what their order looks like on the screen in the kitchen.
Keep in mind this is only for TWO people.
01 DEIDRE 4:13
THREECHZ
W
COBB SAL
*86
L
*ADD
ROM
*86
SAL GARN
EGGS
CK 4
*ADD
FRIED
CK 4
TORT STRIPS
*ADD
*EXTRA
BAC
*ON SIDE
R
R
SEE SERVER
I've had parties with eight people and their order isn't even that long. The cooks aren't going to understand half of that because sometimes we don't have the right buttons to press to describe what we need, so I try to get creative but it doesn't always work. In fact, I could put $500 on the line and tell you that the order, isn't going to come out right. Now I have to go explain to the cooks what this bitch wants.
Oh, and I pushed SEE SERVER because I want to alert everyone that I have a
Category 8 Bitch. Welcome to Chili's.
I've brought her several Diet Cokes. So many that the word Diet, has kind of lost its
meaning.
Their food is ready. I bring it out and I'm holding my breath it's right. It looked
right to me.
Here we go, Triple the Cheese Big Mouth Burger and a MODIFIED Cobb Salad. Can I get you anything else?
That's not what he ordered.
*well technically YOU ordered for him, but yeah, that's the Triple the Cheese*
Yes ma'am, you ordered for him the Triple the Cheese Big Mouth Burger, that's what's
right here.
No. I ordered the Big Mouth Burger Bites.
*no you fucking did not!*
Well, I apologize for the mistake but I can go ahead and take this burger back, and have them fix you up some Big Mouth Bites, well done, no pink. :)
Yeah right! You couldn't get it right the first time, I'm not waiting for you to mess it up a second time!
*I want to twist your head around and pop it off like a Barbie doll you fat evil whore of a woman*
Well, what would you like for me to do? I'm sure my manager would be more than willing to comp this burger, it will be no charge to you.
Yeah whatever, that's fine.
Okay. :)
It's times like these I wish we had a punching bag in the back, or at least a sound proof room. Instead I go and vent my frustrations to the bartender, who is also my boyfriend, and he laughs which doesn't really help me any. I tell him they won't tip me and he has hope and says "you might be surprised."
I check back in on Category 8 Bitch and Mr. Silent and she needs something, who would have thought.
Can I get some EXTRA bacon? Gah damn, this ain't enough. When I said extra I meant the original amount AND THEN SOME.
Yes ma'am, I'll be right back.
*CHOKE ON YOUR BACON YOU FAT BROAD! UUUUGGGGHHHH. I hate bacon. It's disgusting.*
She is content, chomping down on her uber-modified Cobb Salad with a pound of nasty bacon particles. I refuse to refill her Diet Coke anymore. I don't even care at this point. Just want them to GTFO (get the fuck out).
I bring her the bill, it's only $10.96 because the burger was free. She didn't deserve it though.
She hands me eleven dollars and asks for change.
What. The. Fuck. It's only four cents what the fuck you gonna do with four cents! Tell me please!
She takes it.
Nothing. Nothing is on the table. Thank you Category 8 Bitch, for your generosity. You gave me hell for one hour and 11 minutes, you left behind a damn near licked clean plate but what's this? IT'S BACON! The "extra" bacon I brought her, she didn't even touch.
I hate her. I hate her!
I get a hug from the bartender. I feel a little better.
When going out to dinner, the server is taken for granted by nearly every guest.
Work doesn't irritate me. I love my job. However the people I come in contact with, down right irritating sometimes. Case in point, Wednesday evening, table 1.
Hi, welcome to Chili's. My name is Deidre, I'll be
I'll have a Diet Coke, he'll have a water.
*yay interruptions!*
...Okay, would you like to start out with some
No.
...Let me get those drinks for you. :)
---
I asked for no ice in my Diet Coke.
*no she didn't*
Oh, yes ma'am my mistake, I'm sorry, I'll fix you a new one.
---
Are you ready to order or do you need some more time?
We're not ready.
Okay I'll come back.
---
Do you have any questions or are you ready?
I have a question. Could you give us MORE time?
Yes ma'am.
*this is retarded, it's been almost ten minutes since they opened the menu*
some time later--
Ma'am. MA'AM!
*the woman is shouting at me because I haven't taken her order I assume. She probably
thinks I'm neglecting her. And why is she calling me ma'am, I'm fucking nineteen years old.*
Yes? :)
We're ready now. He'll have the Triple the Cheese Big Mouth Burger.
Is medium-well okay on that?
No. No pink. We don't want no pink.
*don't want no. My God.*
All right, well done it is.
And I'll have the Cobb Salad. No corn relish, no eggs, grilled chicken not fried, no
fried chicken, put some of them tortilla strips on there, and extra bacon.
*wow. I hate you. I hate you because you said the word TOR-TILL-A not TOR-TEE-YA. You
redneck son of a bee.*
All right, I'll put that in for you. :)
I'm not done. I want two sides of ranch. ON THE SIDE, you got that? No dressing on top. I also want romaine lettuce, not iceberg.
Wow, that's QUITE a salad. Is that all?
I need another Diet Coke.
Absolutely.
*you don't NEED a damn thing*
No ice!
Yes ma'am, I remember.
*I overhear the woman saying "well she didn't remember the first time."
So, this woman is a bitch and the reason people want to carry firearms.
After I get my other tables everything they need, because believe it or not! I have other people to take care of and cannot spend all my time catering to this old hag, I then put their order in. They can wait. :P You shouldn't fuck with people that are in charge of your food, honestly.
This is what their order looks like on the screen in the kitchen.
Keep in mind this is only for TWO people.
01 DEIDRE 4:13
THREECHZ
W
COBB SAL
*86
L
*ADD
ROM
*86
SAL GARN
EGGS
CK 4
*ADD
FRIED
CK 4
TORT STRIPS
*ADD
*EXTRA
BAC
*ON SIDE
R
R
SEE SERVER
I've had parties with eight people and their order isn't even that long. The cooks aren't going to understand half of that because sometimes we don't have the right buttons to press to describe what we need, so I try to get creative but it doesn't always work. In fact, I could put $500 on the line and tell you that the order, isn't going to come out right. Now I have to go explain to the cooks what this bitch wants.
Oh, and I pushed SEE SERVER because I want to alert everyone that I have a
Category 8 Bitch. Welcome to Chili's.
I've brought her several Diet Cokes. So many that the word Diet, has kind of lost its
meaning.
Their food is ready. I bring it out and I'm holding my breath it's right. It looked
right to me.
Here we go, Triple the Cheese Big Mouth Burger and a MODIFIED Cobb Salad. Can I get you anything else?
That's not what he ordered.
*well technically YOU ordered for him, but yeah, that's the Triple the Cheese*
Yes ma'am, you ordered for him the Triple the Cheese Big Mouth Burger, that's what's
right here.
No. I ordered the Big Mouth Burger Bites.
*no you fucking did not!*
Well, I apologize for the mistake but I can go ahead and take this burger back, and have them fix you up some Big Mouth Bites, well done, no pink. :)
Yeah right! You couldn't get it right the first time, I'm not waiting for you to mess it up a second time!
*I want to twist your head around and pop it off like a Barbie doll you fat evil whore of a woman*
Well, what would you like for me to do? I'm sure my manager would be more than willing to comp this burger, it will be no charge to you.
Yeah whatever, that's fine.
Okay. :)
It's times like these I wish we had a punching bag in the back, or at least a sound proof room. Instead I go and vent my frustrations to the bartender, who is also my boyfriend, and he laughs which doesn't really help me any. I tell him they won't tip me and he has hope and says "you might be surprised."
I check back in on Category 8 Bitch and Mr. Silent and she needs something, who would have thought.
Can I get some EXTRA bacon? Gah damn, this ain't enough. When I said extra I meant the original amount AND THEN SOME.
Yes ma'am, I'll be right back.
*CHOKE ON YOUR BACON YOU FAT BROAD! UUUUGGGGHHHH. I hate bacon. It's disgusting.*
She is content, chomping down on her uber-modified Cobb Salad with a pound of nasty bacon particles. I refuse to refill her Diet Coke anymore. I don't even care at this point. Just want them to GTFO (get the fuck out).
I bring her the bill, it's only $10.96 because the burger was free. She didn't deserve it though.
She hands me eleven dollars and asks for change.
What. The. Fuck. It's only four cents what the fuck you gonna do with four cents! Tell me please!
She takes it.
Nothing. Nothing is on the table. Thank you Category 8 Bitch, for your generosity. You gave me hell for one hour and 11 minutes, you left behind a damn near licked clean plate but what's this? IT'S BACON! The "extra" bacon I brought her, she didn't even touch.
I hate her. I hate her!
I get a hug from the bartender. I feel a little better.
The best person i know....
I am four years old. I spend most of my time at papa's house. My sister is always there too! We get up early every morning with papa and make oatmeal or eggs for breakfast. We always sit on the counter or stand in the chair next to him. We eat and then it's off to the living room to watch the Disney Channel. My favorite show is Kids Incorporated. I know all of the songs and dream of being one of them! My sister really likes winnie the pooh, secretly I do too. We sing the theme songs to everything loudly all over the house and granny just smiles as she is cleaning all around us, telling us to put our toys back in the drawer when we're finished. It's pretty outside. We tie towels around our necks and try to fly off the front porch...it's high up, but we don't care, we're brave. Flying doesn't work. We grab an umbrella and try to be Mary Poppins...for a second we swear we're floating...nope...doesn't work either. We then go downstairs to the basement. It's scary down there and granny tells us to be careful. We play hide and seek until it's time for lunch.
I am 14 years old. I'm a dork. I don't really have any friends and i spend all of my time listening to music, singing by myself. My sister lives with dad, and i'm living with mom. It gets really lonely. Sis and I see eachother every weekend or so. I have a car, but i can't legally drive to town yet. It's an ugly green car with no radio or air conditioner...oh yeah, and it's a standard, and i'm not really good at it yet, but at least it's a car and it's mine. I buy a radio from the flea market and Taryn and i try to install it. Mom laughs at us because we have no clue what we're doing. We finally figure it out and it works, but it's really old and all we can pick up is country stations. We don't care, we roll the windows down and turn it up as loud as we can and sing away. We play basketball in the yard...we're really not very good, but we have a blast anyway. It's sunday...time for sis to go back to dad's. I go back to my room... I wish it was friday again.
I am 18 years old. I live 200 miles away from my family. I have a secret. It's sunday night and i am at a friend's house and my phone rings. It's sis. she's already crying because she knows the truth before she asks. "Yes," I tell her, "I'm gay." I beg her not to tell anyone, that i'm not ready for anyone else to know, and the only reason i told her is because she's always been my best friend and i can't lie to her. It doesn't work. She tells everyone because she says she's not strong enough to hold it in. Dad calls. Mom calls. Everyone calls. I turn my phone off and get drunk and stay that way for days. I skip class, i miss work, I just don't care. I turn my phone back on eventually. Mom is the only person's call i take. She begs me to call my sister, she's so sorry and upset and just wants to talk to me. She's not sorry enough--I don't call.
I am 25 years old. I still live 200 miles away. I have finally got my shit together, and i'm doing really well. My sister is my best friend. We talk every day or so. She knows when something's wrong without me even telling her. I feel the same way. She's had two miscarriages, and i'm the only person she will talk to about it. She's waiting to try again, she wants a baby so badly, and i really want to be an uncle. she's a teacher and i tell her i don't have the nerves for that. She's always been great with kids. Secretly, i'm jealous of her...secretly, she's jealous of me. I got out of Cushman, she's still there.
I am 25 years old. I miss the days of flying off the porch with an umbrella. I miss hide and seek. I have my best friend though. She's always there to sing stupid songs with me. We cry at the same stupid commercials on tv. She's the best person I know, and i'm so happy that she's my sister. ( love you sis!!!)
I am 14 years old. I'm a dork. I don't really have any friends and i spend all of my time listening to music, singing by myself. My sister lives with dad, and i'm living with mom. It gets really lonely. Sis and I see eachother every weekend or so. I have a car, but i can't legally drive to town yet. It's an ugly green car with no radio or air conditioner...oh yeah, and it's a standard, and i'm not really good at it yet, but at least it's a car and it's mine. I buy a radio from the flea market and Taryn and i try to install it. Mom laughs at us because we have no clue what we're doing. We finally figure it out and it works, but it's really old and all we can pick up is country stations. We don't care, we roll the windows down and turn it up as loud as we can and sing away. We play basketball in the yard...we're really not very good, but we have a blast anyway. It's sunday...time for sis to go back to dad's. I go back to my room... I wish it was friday again.
I am 18 years old. I live 200 miles away from my family. I have a secret. It's sunday night and i am at a friend's house and my phone rings. It's sis. she's already crying because she knows the truth before she asks. "Yes," I tell her, "I'm gay." I beg her not to tell anyone, that i'm not ready for anyone else to know, and the only reason i told her is because she's always been my best friend and i can't lie to her. It doesn't work. She tells everyone because she says she's not strong enough to hold it in. Dad calls. Mom calls. Everyone calls. I turn my phone off and get drunk and stay that way for days. I skip class, i miss work, I just don't care. I turn my phone back on eventually. Mom is the only person's call i take. She begs me to call my sister, she's so sorry and upset and just wants to talk to me. She's not sorry enough--I don't call.
I am 25 years old. I still live 200 miles away. I have finally got my shit together, and i'm doing really well. My sister is my best friend. We talk every day or so. She knows when something's wrong without me even telling her. I feel the same way. She's had two miscarriages, and i'm the only person she will talk to about it. She's waiting to try again, she wants a baby so badly, and i really want to be an uncle. she's a teacher and i tell her i don't have the nerves for that. She's always been great with kids. Secretly, i'm jealous of her...secretly, she's jealous of me. I got out of Cushman, she's still there.
I am 25 years old. I miss the days of flying off the porch with an umbrella. I miss hide and seek. I have my best friend though. She's always there to sing stupid songs with me. We cry at the same stupid commercials on tv. She's the best person I know, and i'm so happy that she's my sister. ( love you sis!!!)
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
When I was...
I am 5 years old and I just woke up from a nightmare. The same man keeps showing up in all my dreams, even though he’s not part of the story. I think he’s a vampire. The first time I saw him, he was in black and white, like the rest of the dream. He’s still in black and white, but my dreams are in color. He was in tonight’s dream where I went with my momma to her college. She got to the top of the stairs and the building cracked down the middle like a lightning bolt hit it. Momma still went into the building, but left me outside so I would be safe. She disappeared in the darkness of the hallway when the black and white vampire man came out of the shadows and looked at me. He never speaks, but I am always scared of him. I am scared, so I am going into my momma’s room to sleep with her. The door is shut, so I open it and walk inside. I stand in front of her bed and telling her about my bad dream. Randy’s voice says “I don’t want her in here,” and my mom gets up to walk me back to my room. I am starting to cry because I didn’t wanna be alone in the dark. She leaves me in my room, sitting in my bed, and she shuts the door. That makes the room even darker and I know that the black and white vampire man is about to come out and give me that look. I run out my door and through hers, which is closed again, before she makes it back into her bed. She tells me to get out and so I walk outside the door, but I’m not brave enough to go back into my room. She shuts the door and I hear a click. I try to open it again, to try and convince her to let me in, but the door won’t open. I am crying harder now because I am all alone. I am banging on the door and still crying. I can’t leave because I am too scared. I am sitting on my sister’s green plastic chair that goes with her drum set. I am crying and sitting. I am too tired to move, but too scared to fall asleep.
I am 8 years old and I am playing outside with my sister and Jackie. I don’t know what we are doing, but I am bored. Jackie starts talking about her mom, Diana, and all the cool secrets they share. Her mom had a bunch of friends over last night and put make up on Jackie. Then she let Jackie have a drink of this gross bottled drink. She told Jackie that Santa Claus isn’t real, but I know better. “He’s real,” I said to Kristi and Jackie. Kristi says “You’re stupid, mom does it.” I know that Kristi’s wrong, so I run back to our apartment, across the complex, to ask mom to tell them the truth. I don’t understand why Kristi wouldn’t believe in Santa. He brought us a Barbie doll house and a Bubble Gum machine. Mom never buys us anything like that, so Santa has to be the one who brought it on Christmas. I bust through our door and see mom sitting on the recliner and Shane sitting in front of her on the floor. They’re watching TV. I look her in the eye and scream “Tell Kristi and Jackie that Santa is real,” and she looks me in the eye and opens her mouth. Before any of her words come out, Shane makes one of those “Are you serious” giggles. I flash to him to read his face and scowl at him. He is looking at mom. I look back to mom who is giving him a “Why’d you say that, you’re gonna get me in trouble” face. “He isn’t real?” I scream at her, and the tears start pouring. I feel stupid. I have defended Santa for years and have been laughed at for it. Mom lied to me. I tromp to her defeated and sick to my stomach. I can’t understand why she let me believe a lie for all these years. I start questioning what else she may have lied about. She rocks me and I sob. I am still crying. I am upset when Kristi comes in and laughs at me.
I am 13 years old. I have a group of friends who I eat lunch with and talk to on the phone. I don’t understand why so many girls already wear make up and I am not interested in conversations about house parties. I feel so young. I think I should probably try and grow up too, but I am so not interested in any of those things. I don’t like to dress cute, plus I look silly when I try. I don’t know how to fix my hair. I don’t think any of the boys are cute. I think that all the kids in school associate growing up with kissing and alcohol. My friends are starting to get caught up in it too. Today, I am standing in the lunch line listening to Kayla banter about the fact that Jason likes Alyssa now and if she were a true friend she would not date him. I agree, sorta. Besides, I have more important gossip. “I think Berry is smoking pot,” I tell Kayla. Of course she latches onto that piece of information. She doesn’t actually seem to care about him doing drugs, just the fact that it’s interesting. I am way more concerned with him and what he’s going to get himself into. He doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends and he would for sure be willing to do drugs or something equally stupid in order to be more popular. Kayla starts gossiping about how stupid he is and how that reminds her of Jason. I need somebody who is going to understand what I am talking about, so I head farther back in line to my best friend Phillip. “Phillip, did you know that Berry smokes pot,” I ask him. “I smoke pot too. So?” Ok, so I was definitely not expecting that response, but he’s my best friend, so I can’t act like it bothers me. “I know Phillip, but you’re honest about it, and Berry lies,” I say to cover my overall hurt. I zone out for a while and miss most of the lunch conversations. I get through the rest of the day, but after I get off the bus, I run into my house and call my mom. I cannot believe that my friends are doing drugs. I realize that Kayla wears a lot of make up now. “Mom, I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t know what to do!” I cry over the phone. I wait a few hours and she comes home. I vent to her about all the crap and how it upsets me. I have seen what drugs do to people. Look at my dad, for example. I just cry and realize that I am probably about to make some tough decisions. I am still crying when I make the decision to help them. I am crying, but I love them.
I am 8 years old and I am playing outside with my sister and Jackie. I don’t know what we are doing, but I am bored. Jackie starts talking about her mom, Diana, and all the cool secrets they share. Her mom had a bunch of friends over last night and put make up on Jackie. Then she let Jackie have a drink of this gross bottled drink. She told Jackie that Santa Claus isn’t real, but I know better. “He’s real,” I said to Kristi and Jackie. Kristi says “You’re stupid, mom does it.” I know that Kristi’s wrong, so I run back to our apartment, across the complex, to ask mom to tell them the truth. I don’t understand why Kristi wouldn’t believe in Santa. He brought us a Barbie doll house and a Bubble Gum machine. Mom never buys us anything like that, so Santa has to be the one who brought it on Christmas. I bust through our door and see mom sitting on the recliner and Shane sitting in front of her on the floor. They’re watching TV. I look her in the eye and scream “Tell Kristi and Jackie that Santa is real,” and she looks me in the eye and opens her mouth. Before any of her words come out, Shane makes one of those “Are you serious” giggles. I flash to him to read his face and scowl at him. He is looking at mom. I look back to mom who is giving him a “Why’d you say that, you’re gonna get me in trouble” face. “He isn’t real?” I scream at her, and the tears start pouring. I feel stupid. I have defended Santa for years and have been laughed at for it. Mom lied to me. I tromp to her defeated and sick to my stomach. I can’t understand why she let me believe a lie for all these years. I start questioning what else she may have lied about. She rocks me and I sob. I am still crying. I am upset when Kristi comes in and laughs at me.
I am 13 years old. I have a group of friends who I eat lunch with and talk to on the phone. I don’t understand why so many girls already wear make up and I am not interested in conversations about house parties. I feel so young. I think I should probably try and grow up too, but I am so not interested in any of those things. I don’t like to dress cute, plus I look silly when I try. I don’t know how to fix my hair. I don’t think any of the boys are cute. I think that all the kids in school associate growing up with kissing and alcohol. My friends are starting to get caught up in it too. Today, I am standing in the lunch line listening to Kayla banter about the fact that Jason likes Alyssa now and if she were a true friend she would not date him. I agree, sorta. Besides, I have more important gossip. “I think Berry is smoking pot,” I tell Kayla. Of course she latches onto that piece of information. She doesn’t actually seem to care about him doing drugs, just the fact that it’s interesting. I am way more concerned with him and what he’s going to get himself into. He doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends and he would for sure be willing to do drugs or something equally stupid in order to be more popular. Kayla starts gossiping about how stupid he is and how that reminds her of Jason. I need somebody who is going to understand what I am talking about, so I head farther back in line to my best friend Phillip. “Phillip, did you know that Berry smokes pot,” I ask him. “I smoke pot too. So?” Ok, so I was definitely not expecting that response, but he’s my best friend, so I can’t act like it bothers me. “I know Phillip, but you’re honest about it, and Berry lies,” I say to cover my overall hurt. I zone out for a while and miss most of the lunch conversations. I get through the rest of the day, but after I get off the bus, I run into my house and call my mom. I cannot believe that my friends are doing drugs. I realize that Kayla wears a lot of make up now. “Mom, I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t know what to do!” I cry over the phone. I wait a few hours and she comes home. I vent to her about all the crap and how it upsets me. I have seen what drugs do to people. Look at my dad, for example. I just cry and realize that I am probably about to make some tough decisions. I am still crying when I make the decision to help them. I am crying, but I love them.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)