Happy Holidays!
Hope you are all enjoying your holiday season. I am without Internet service, which is why I haven’t been around. I’ll take care of that with the bucks I’ve made working 12-15 hour days. I’m butt-ass tired. Just tired, but Nate has had a great Christmas despite the drama and I’m looking forward to taking a long winter’s nap.
May the Lord and Lady bless you and keep you always.
Nanner
When You Got Nuttin’ Else…
Just start making shit up.
That’s what Jeff did today. He decided to go a bender (for two days and counting) and after our morning fight (in which I leveled no accusation that wasn’t the God’s honest truth) he left me a message stating that maybe I should explain why I have been seen going into a known pot seller’s house on The West Side of the Capitol City and while he really didn’t take me for a pot smoker he still wanted to know what did I have to say about that.
Didn’t feel the need to say anything to defend myself against a baseless and ridiculous accustation. His source needs to get his story straight as the house I frequent every other weekend (and sometimes not) on The West Side of the Capitol City sits next to the drug dealer’s house because Cam’s parents have told me said neighbors are drug dealers.
I can you that I felt extremely hurt and a fury that made me wish I had indeed had a baseball bat the evening before when I picked up Nate from his drunk father, who drove drunk when he picked my son up at school, so that I may have caved his head in with said bat and since he now doesn’t have a friend in the world, he wouldn’t have been found for many, many days. Perhaps weeks, or even months.
Call me drunk, if you’d like, and attempt to bitch about money and what a better parent you are, and how much you deserve your money back, and about Nate’s lost cellphone (which I believe to be in his possession), blah, blah, fuckin’ blah, but do not level an accusation which is completely without merit and such complete and utter horseshit that I wish to cave your head in with a baseball bat.
As I told Owner’s Wife this morning, “He said he didn’t want to burn bridges with me. Well, he started the fire. ” She responded, “Hell, the whole damn thing is going up in flames!”
Five alarm, my people, five alarm. There aren’t enough cuss words nor any bad enough to describe my feelings. Lucky for him he’s too chickenshit to come to my house. I may not have a baseball bat but I do have a two-by-four with his name written all over it.
‘Tis the Season for TMJ
I thought I had escaped it this year. It normally hits around Thanksgiving but this year, it has waited this long to rear its ugly head. Perhaps its because the Christmas rush has taken longer to kick in here. Who knows. I just hate it.
The weather has been in flux for several days. My sinuses are singing, loudly, and my jaw pops right along with that rythmn. I’ve been up since 3:30 or so. It had just started snowing and now they’re issuing school delays. I figure I’ll wait another 18 minutes to see if they are going to delay Nate’s school then take another shower to help loosen the muscles in my jaw and wash the vestiges of vapor rub from my body.
The pain is tolerable at this point, thanks to ibuprofen and vapor rub. I did doze on the couch but when I went back to bed my sinuses started draining, causing me to cough and cough and cough. Ugh.
Plus, yesterday was just a clusterfuck. I thought I was off work and looking forward to it. Luckily, I went in anyway to get some paperwork done, and since we’ve been busy, I took my work clothes. Good thing, because I wasn’t off yesterday. I still had to leave early because I had to pick up Nate’s medicine and Nate, for that matter.
I doubt if there is a delay that I can count on Jeff to take Nate to school for me since he called at 11:00 last night, either drunk or stoned on pills or both. Its hard to tell sometimes. He said he loved me so it may have been his pills. Hell, he may have been asleep for all I know. That’s been known to happen.
Its still pitch black outside and from the window I can’t tell if its still snowing, although the radar says, “Yes, its been snowing outside and its going to snow more because you’re under a Winter Weather Advisory, dumbass.” I don’t feel like opening the front door and looking, or even opening the window to listen for the delicate sound of snow falling. It smells like snow. Its cold like snow.
Time for my shower.
My Ass Is Officially Kicked
I’m whooped, ya’ll. Whooped, I tell ya, whooped. I think yesterday was the longest shift I’ve ever worked and been the busiest. 15 long hours on my feet, on the floor. I clocked in at 8:15 a.m. and left at 11:15 p.m. The first break I got was at 1-ish and that was enough time to run downstairs, throw off my apron, use the bathroom, suck down maybe three draws on a cigarette and run back up. The next break was at 3-ish and it was basically the same thing.
It started with a brunch catering in-restaurant for about 75 people. We sold 62 Bloody Marys in two hours. I have no idea how many Mimosas went out of there. At least six or seven champagne bottles worth. A Mimosa for those who don’t know, is half champagne and half orange juice in a champagne flute. I’ll assume everyone knows what a Bloody Mary is.
Before we even caught our breath, people started coming in for regular lunch service. We had a large group in our meeting room so SEC and I got spanked pretty hard with incoming. At one point I was standing in the kitchen by the tank (the tank and I seem to be having some odd love affair as of late) polishing and rolling silverware on a service tray because we had no where else to put it!
The silverware and glass racks were endless all damn day. Finally, we hit a lull between about 3:30 and 5:30. Luckily, thankfully, our three evening shift servers came in half an hour early. I guess they knew it would be shitty. The bar was a complete disaster for most of the day. What was really strange is that I was bringing up beer from the catering room downstairs because the bar needed stocked and SEC was standing there polishing glasses.
She finally said she would get the imports. Its a good thing because I wasn’t planning on schlepping up the entire bar stock considering I wasn’t bartending that night and she was. I did what I did to help Shanni, who was our day bartender. I’m not sure what time SEC went home, but it was well before I did.
Shanni has real bad rheumatoid arthritis. She takes some uber-expensive medication for it. Sometimes I think she uses it a bit but there are other days in which I’ve seen her in tears trying to pop one of her joints because it has frozen. Whereas the weather has been wreaking havoc on my sinsuses, the weather wreaks havoc on her entire body. She’s had a bad week.
She’s thankful that she can twist a doorknob, which at one point she wasn’t able to do. Sometimes I still have to crack the twist top wine bottles for her. (Crack: (in a wine sense) to break the seal) She’s had fluid drained off of both knees this year and I totally despise her husband. He’s a slob ass lazy bum who doesn’t raise his hand to help her.
When we were at the Christmas party, I had the complete joy of sitting across from him. We had the party at another local eatery, in exchange for them having their’s at our place last night. As they were passing the salads out, Shanni was not at her seat, and he didn’t want one. When the server asked if anyone else needed one he said no and I asked him if he wanted to get one for Shanni. He shrugged and said, “Hmpf, she knows where they’re at.”
I didn’t say anything but I gave him a “you’re a fat jackass fucktard and if I could extend my arm under the table I’d have your nuts in a vice grip with a cruel twist,” look. I guess that made an impression on him because he told Shanni on the way home that I must be a good friend.
I just know he’s out running around on her, coming home in the wee hours of the morning drunk off of his ass, not helping her, and that she’s contemplated divorcing him, which I can’t say I blame her for. Granted, there are days I want to pop her head off of her shoulders, but she really is a good person and tries to keep a positive attitude.
Can you tell I’m really tired? Yeah, I just keep rambling.
Last night I did have the pleasure of waiting on the Director of Acquisitions for a big ass company and his beautiful, classy wife. I mean, you can’t learn class like that, you’re just born with it. They had been to a party and were all macked out. She had on this gorgeous green and black dress which set off her amazing figure and auburn hair. Wow, she was just a sight.
At one point, I walked past their table and saw a napkin laying in front of it. I thought it had fallen off of a tray but she laughed and said, “Oh, that’s mine. I was using it as a weapon.” I’m not sure what that was all about, but I think they were having a good time. He has quite the personality himself, very witty. He told me I needed to taste their wine because I needed to know how different wines tasted so I could recommend them to my guests.
I had to decline because I was working but he graciously left at least half a glass in the bottom of the bottle and then gifted it to me at the end of the night. The law says now that we can re-cork the bottle and carry it out in a bag. I took that (Chateauneauf de Pape La Bastide St. Dominic) and almost a full bottle of Peachy Canyon Incredible Red Zinfandel because my other table forgot it. Owner Chef was sitting with the Peachy Canyon folks and bought them two rounds of beer on top of what they had already had so maybe that’s why he left it. (Too drunk to remember to take it) I told Owner they had forgotten it and he said, “Well, take it home.”
Its 2:13 p.m. Maybe I should have a drink of that Chateauneaf with a long hot bath for my aching muscles. And Mr. Director of Acquisitions, technically, he’s disabled, although I’m not sure I can honestly say that considering the gusto and attitude with which he lives his life. His wheelchair and paralysis appear to be afterthoughts.
It makes you want to whack everyone around you, including yourself, who complains about hard work when for some people just getting out of bed can be challenge, yet they move on with their day with grace, wit, and drive.
May you have a blessed Sunday.
Why Is It Always the Bartender???
We have another new bartender. I’m not sure if I blogged that Addy upped and walked out during service one day. I wasn’t there but I got “the call” because they had to change my servers for the following week and I needed to be in the loop. It broke my heart, but hearts will be broken.
So, after a week or two of everyone on evening shift pulling doubles to help us cover the bar, we hired Shifty-Eyed Chick. SEC, in her two weeks with us, has gotten on my last nerve. She’s always worried that someone is going to screw her over on tips and how much is she getting in tips and by the way, what was my tip share? And, “I’m only scheduled until 2 on Saturday so I won’t be helping with the meeting room.” Eh, fuck you.
Oh JOY, I get to work ALL DAY with her tomorrow! Except, she’s leaving at 2, and she’ll be back at 4 or 5, or whenever she is scheduled. As you can tell, she’s a real team player. We were effin’ slow today and with three servers and bartender, I left the floor before 1:30 to work downstairs. I left Shanni to take tables so SEC could put away wine and liquor, because we always get big orders in on Friday.
Come 4:00, my quittin’ time, I walk upstairs to find SEC yakking at the bar, the wine still isn’t put away, the liquor isn’t put away, and four of her seven tables are still dirty from lunch service… which ended three hours prior. Just because I go downstairs doesn’t mean I don’t ever float back up to the surface. I was upstairs numerous times and each time she appeared to be doing something. Too bad that something was really nothing.
Shanni, luckily, asked if we needed additional champagne flutes for the brunch we’re having tomorrow morning at 10, which is why I have to be in at 8:30. I called down to the GM and asked if those needed to be brought up from the basement and she said, “Oh, crap! Yeah.”
I bussed SEC’s two dirty tables, and wiped and re-sat all four, then found that it was impossible to unload any dirty dishes at the tank because it was totally full, as in, the kitchen was busy with prep and our dishwasher had left at 3 because he was working a split shift and wasn’t due back until 6, and since I knew that one of our Lynch Mob sisters had 20 people in the meeting room and would need to unload all of her dirties, I decided that instead of helping SEC, who appeared to have done nothing since 1:30, I’d do something for everyone, and started running dishes through the tank.
Once GM came upstairs I told her I would unavailable to bring up champagne flutes from the basement and she could ask SEC to do so. GM then asked me why Candyman was unloading wine and liquor. I gave her a “that’s a rhetorical question, right?” look and went back to running dishes and then putting them where they belonged.
I probably ran 9 or 12 racks or maybe 15 racks of dishes, pots and pans, four or five racks of glasses, and a rack of silver. (And damn, this cheap Merlot I bought tastes mighty fine! I think I’ll have another glass!) The sous chef was very complimentary of my mad dishtanking skillz.
Actually, it was a good experience for me because of all of the different jobs in the restaurant, I was always intimidated by the dishtank. I know it may seem silly, considering I know how to load a dishwasher, but the spray arm with its scalding water, and the heavy glass racks, the endless array of different types of dishes, pots, pans, and other utilities, it was overwhelming for someone with ADD.
Then after I finished with what was already AT the tank, I unloaded all of the trays that had piled up because of the lack of space, which was three or four. No wonder it took me an hour to clear that mess. However, I am pleased to announce that I have CONQUERED THE DISHTANK!
It was much more fun working the dishtank than carrying up champagne flutes from the basement and wanting to kill the bartender.
On a sad note, or humdinger, as Jammie would call it, a friend of Jace’s died in a car accident. He’s very upset and pretty exhausted, mentally and physically. Send some good vibes!
You Know You’re Desperate
when you eat a piece of pecan pie leftover from Thanksgiving. It wasn’t me. Well, maybe it was.
‘Tis the season for upgrades. Everytime I log into my e-mail or WordPress someone has changed something to make it new-fangled and supposedly better.
I’m finished with Nate’s and my Dad’s Yule shopping, haven’t got jackshit for anyone else. I’m broke.
Nate is grounded until Christmas Eve. When I picked him up from school yesterday he said, “I would just like to make my Last Will and Testament.” He bequethed his video games to Cam, his Legos to Buddy (ETW’s son), and anything left to T-Bird’s son. I’m pleased to report Nate is still alive, although he may die of boredom before December 24th. Sometimes you just have to put the fear of Mom into them.
Things with Jace are fine and dandy.
Troy is probably going to be getting a divorce in the New Year.
T-Bird and I have been talking. Nate and I went down on Thanksgiving and we had a really nice time.
I’m working the super double shift on Saturday – 8:30 a.m. to close. Things were “tense” today. The GM is ticked off. I only got half a story, I’m sure the rest will come out sooner or later.
Today is AZ’s birthday. He’s still older than I am. Today is also John Fred’s birthday. He’s still younger than I am.
I took Jirachi, Little Man, to the vet on my day off. He got his ears cleaned, bad ear mites, and a wormer, because he has round worms, and some viral inhibitor for his continously snotty nose that won’t respond to antibiotics.
Heed my warning, keep thy childrens contained in a restaurant or leave them the fuck home. As hyper as Nate was/is as a child, I always kept him in a high chair or otherwise contained in the booth in a restaurant. It is very difficult to lift a 50 lb. tray under normal circumstances, much less while worrying about whether you’re going to trip over the 2 year old hiding underneath it. Frankly, I don’t think a three hour adult Christmas party is the place for a 2 year old.
A party of 17 is difficult enough without the 2 year old, who was totally cute, just way in the way today. It came to my attention that when the dad left the room with him that he let him run amok for my co-workers to deal with as well. Its just flat fucking dangerous.
Plus, if you’re going to subject me to four courses, special menu, packages, wrapping paper, and other debris blocking my way, extra well done beef, your long winded boss, and a 2 year old, you could at least tip worth a shit, which you didn’t.
Thank the Goddess for wine and other alcoholic beverages.
And thank you sweet baby Jeebus for the awesome sex I had last night so that I could face the day.
Amen.
What? December Already?
Jeebus, where did the time go? I’d like to point out, that according the powers that be at WordPress, my last post was # 1,000. I just wish I had a word count. I defected to WordPress in August of 2006 after two years and 700 posts. Since my blogging dropped off considerably there for a while, I can see having 1000 posts now. Back in the day, Blogger used to keep a word count, but I don’t see anything like that here or even on Blogger anymore.
Jeff got us a big tree for the house this year. We had a little tabletop last year, remember?
That’s my Hermione girl underneath. Nate had a dream about her the other morning.
Not much else has been going on that I can think of. Things with Jace are going well. Nate is having trouble in school, I know you’re shocked. I talked to his English teacher this morning. Jeff is hoping to get on as a Carpenter’s Helper where his brother works. I think that is something he would enjoy, he’s good at, and it pays well. That would help him out a lot. I went hunting again but the weather had changed and I saw five does in six hours but no bucks. Yes, the gun was sighted in properly.
Speaking of, we’ll be having tenderloin for dinner. One of the managers at my local convenience store was like, “So, are you going to bring me some tenderloin?” I hate to be rude… but if you want tenderloin then go get a gun, traipse through the woods in the mud and muck, up and down the hollers, or sit on your ass in a tree stand, with the wind howling, waiting for that perfect moment, shoot it, kill it, gut it, drag it, skin it, then have it chopped up and you’ll have your damn tenderloin. He’s not disabled, he’s just as able-bodied as I am to get out and do all of that! Fuck that noise.
Well, I need to go muck out the corner in the living room for the Yule Tree and fix some dinner. Ya’ll have a good one.
Anything Goes 