The Morning After

...I want to lie down in my bathroom and die!

We had our restaurant Christmas party last night. I wouldn't call it the best we've ever had but it was a lot of fun. Maybe a little too much fun.

I got all dressed and picked up my Plus One, my BFFF of course, and we were on our way. From the get go, I knew it was gonna be a good night when I saw a group of people hopping from restaurant door to restaurant door only to realize that almost everyone on our block was having a closed party. Heh.

There was so much food! Irish car bomb cupcakes were my contribution. Now, those bring all the boys to the yard. It's always a good feeling to not have leftovers. It's like being the first of the girls to get picked in gym. They like me, they really like me.

Anyway, so we drank, ate, and complimented each other's dressy outfits. Oh, remember the mistletoe thing I mentioned in an earlier post? We had two mistletoe bushes hanging from our ceiling fans. Man, I hope someone got laid.

After the food, it starts to get a little hazy. With demands of some ass shakin' dance music, I ended up being the DJ. Nothing moves people like T.I., Ludacris, Michael Jackson, and Destiny's Child. You can shrug at the choices but it got people on the bar. Yes, ON. We danced the night away...

And now back to the present. I woke up with smeared makeup, regretting my drink choices, and mysterious bruises. I groaned while making my way to the bathroom. I had to get ready for work!

I've been in this situation before but no matter how hungover, I'm able to pull myself together and get the job done. I got to work, plugged up my iPod, and started on my side work. Little did I know that when the smell of soy and fried food crept into my nose, I was done for.

I reached deep and fought through my unforgiving nausea and succeeded in getting the restaurant set up. But, I didn't think I had it in me to last the whole shift. I had to call in a pinch hitter. Thank God exams were over! An angel called me back and agreed to relieve me. After she tagged in, I went home and crawled into a dark hole.

I emerged hours later, still not feeling 100% but alive enough to want to tweet about my current status. But gasp! I remembered forgetting my iPod at the restaurant. I had to retrieve it. When I got there, I couldn't help but giggle at the sight of the night crew. Including myself, we were all dressed like we were about to go to the Health Clinic. The fitted clothes we wore the night before were replaced with everything baggy and loose. It also didn't help that we looked like we were diagnosed with H1N1.

"Man, we had fun...right?" Was the fact/question of the night. After promises of swapping stories and not drinking for the rest of the week, I bid them adieu.

i do not want to drink like that for a while. Then again, Christmas and New Years are coming up fast. God help my liver!

Coming of Age

With all the fake IDs and easily seduced security guys/bartenders, it's becoming less of an event... turning 21.

I'm glad that a lot of my friends and acquaintances from grade school, who are younger than me, don't come into my place of work to drink. I've probably said this before but I don't care how "cool" we were in school, if you're not legal, I'm not serving you. I'm positive that you won't come to my rescue when I'm paying my $1000 fine in court.

The funny thing about these infamous underage bar hoppers is that they announce THE DAY on social networks, when they've been 22 for...3 years now. That day's exchange with your bartender's gotta be a little awkward, right? You go out to celebrate your birthday and the bartender offers you shots. After some high-fiveing, they ask how old you are. Could you really hold your head high and say 21?!

Maybe I'm angry because I wasn't a partier in my younger years... Or maybe it's because I'm getting old(er).

Look There She Goes...

...that girl is so peculiar. What a puzzle to the rest of us, this Belle.

Belle, in Beauty and the Beast was considered a "funny girl" because she was a bookworm. I wonder what that poor provincial town would have thought of these girls (characters) in movies now a days.

Don't get me wrong, I like that the un-mainsteam girl is scoring the man but the degree to which they're odd is...getting to be a bit much. The unconventional girl has since changed from the artistic, dark haired type to someone who wears Converse with a party dress and gasp! gets dessert before their entrée. How pleasantly quirky.

She probably has Christmas decorations up in April to help keep the Christmas spirit alive and reads books starting at the end. Does it sound more intellectual when it's paired with a meaningful explanation?

We need to draw a line between cute and bizarre or else the girl who wears socks with sandals, just to express her serious individuality, will become acceptable. And the thing is, the guys eat that shit up. "She's so mysterious. Maybe if I spend enough time with her, I can be more enlightened about the world around me."

I'm definitely not a blond and pink type but I'm also not a cat eye glasses with a faux leather jacket with fur type either. I'm just a regular girl who wants a particularly gorgeous and talented Australian or English guy to fall in love with me. He'll show me the world. Shining, shimmering, splendid...Wait, maybe I need to go to Agrabah. Road trip?!

Murphy's Law

Definition: An epigram that's typically stated that "if anything can go wrong, it will, and it will happen at the worst possible time." The Law of Gravity is felt every moment of every day. I feel the effects of Murphy's Law every couple of shifts.

It's getting to be that time of year. Perhaps because of the lack of football, the cold winter air, or because of exam week followed by winter break, but everything slows down. Lots of stores and restaurants are forced to cut back but this doesn't mean it's always slow.

You would never expect a restaurant to be in full swing in this town on a Monday. But, it's always when you're under staffed, minimally stocked, the bartender is on a liqueur run, and the veteran kitchen guy is sent home when Murphy's Law rears its ugly head. And when the ball starts rolling, it does damage:

My whole section needed refills, I had kids running around, a keg floats, the computer is unresponsive, the food is burnt, and a table wants to play 20 questions about the menu. Ugh! I have been near tears because of this chaos. Honestly, it's scary. It's not a fun thing to have to constantly apologize... to everyone.

But, just as fast as it hits, the storm subsides. It's good to take in that long breath after a rush! Very calming. I assume that's what smoking a cigarette would be like. So, on a particularly slow night, tempt Murphy's Law by sending a couple people home. But make sure they're just around the corner cuz I don't wanna cry!

Let's Get Physical

I physically can't go to the gym with a ponytail and leave with one. I go in with my hair all situated and come back with bump-it bangs and matted fur...

For the longest time, I was really intimidated by gyms. I tried to go to the one on campus when I was still a student but I was not at all prepared. First of all, I didn't get the memo about the dress code. I lacked the Nike shorts that were in this season. I only had my old polyester Umbros and a high school musical production t-shirt. Don't worry, I've upgraded since then. Secondly, I had NO idea how the machines worked. I would have asked the man who's shirt was barely keeping itself together around his huge biceps but the fear of getting judged and being asked, "Is this your first time?" kept me from approaching any of the equipment. Lastly, I am NOT hot working out. I'm so jealous of the girls who can exercise for hours and emerge with a nice sheen of sweat above their brow. When I work out, my face turns beet red, my hair in disarray, and sweating bullets. BULLETS! Nothing is hot about that.

Still, a girl's gotta get her heartbeat up. After a week of gym hopping, I finally settled on one. I'm really happy with my gym. Still has Nike shorts girls but they're off set by the soccer moms, cops, gym junkies, and the yoga queens. A nice balance for me. It also doesn't hurt that there's this one guy who works out in glasses... He is adorable!

Now, the only problem is getting fit enough to call working out a hobby instead of a must do.

Employee Christmas Party

You thought Halloween was bad...

This is the annual main event! The employees and a couple friends of the restaurant come out to get wild. We get to see the whole crew looking sexy and smelling nothing like an Egg Roll.

Yea, we do it up at the restaurant. Everyone dresses up like were heading to the small town Oscars. The food is potluck so you get a little bit of everything and all "off the menu." The alcohol, depending on how the restaurant did that year, is free or BYOB. Either way, everybody gets trashed.

Of course we all get to bring a guest. Ah yes, the Plus One. It's always iffy bringing in someone from the outside though. If they're not already friends with the staff, you'll have to spend most of the night entertaining and keeping them comfortable. It's also a pain worrying about being judged when you kiss every single one of your coworkers under a mistletoe or a lettuce leaf (Whatever's handy). We all get mighty friendly!

The party has always been at the restaurant so I definitely get a kick out of customers who don't know how to read a CLOSED FOR A CHRISTMAS PARTY sign and walk in. They'll be greeted drunkenly with a "WE'RE CLOSED!" Haha. Good times, good times.

I wonder who's gonna be dancing on the bar this year...

Can You Read Me Now?

Good!

Don't worry my dear readers. I'm here! I have been without Internet for...maybe two weeks now. I have missed a total of 37 e-mails, 7 Facebook event requests, 2 birth announcements, 1 break up, and an unspeakable number of tweets. The e-mails were mostly ads...

I think something happened in my house that caused my room to be an electronic black hole. I was also deprived of TV! You would think that with all the free time I now had to be productive, I would have done...something productive. But nah.

I have a shelf full of books, good books, I needed to get through. But, move over Haruki Murakami, I've got a game to play! I picked up my Nintendo DS. It had collected about an inch of dust and I saw it glaring at my iPod using its double screens but with one touch, we were friends again.

I started a game that I had impulse purchased at the local Gamestop. It's called Rocket Slime. A spawn of the Dragon Quest franchise. I know you're excited. Let me explain the storyline:

It starts in a little town called Boingburg. Its inhabitants are creatures called Slimes who look like colorful Hershey's kisses with eyes and various accessories to tell them apart. So, what's come to disturb the peace in this adorable little wonderland? Mutant Platypus called Plobs. They captured all the citizens except for the hero (who is named after me, duh), who now has to search far and wide to save them and restore the town.

I know. It's so awesome. Forget all this Assassins Creed and Halo nonsense. I'm saving chocolate morsels!

Believe it or not, this will be the first game that I EVER finish on my own. I've never been a gamer, although my looks may allude to it. In college, I used to fall asleep listening to my friends play Madden. John's voice is like a lullaby...

Well, gotta run. There's a rabbit with a single horn waiting to battle. Bring it on!!

Rudeness Has No Borders

It's bad when the second table of the night upsets you so much that you want to slap them across the face even before the drinks are out. Since it was the day before Thanksgiving, we all expected a slow night. It ended up being pretty busy. Unfortunately, the money didn't make up for the anger I felt for this particular couple.

It started all wrong. They came in and were rude to my Hostess. Strike One. They couldn't be bothered to look at me when they asked about the drink specials. You know how I feel about that, Strike Two. They were out-of-towners. Strike Three!

They asked about the specials THREE times because they just didn't "get" it: "Wait, it's two for one? What if I only want one? Well, I'd want two. Why is it just domestic? Is Heineken not domestic?" Sigh. Then, of course, they got mad at ME because the girl didn't have her ID. She forgot to get it back the night before. "I mean, I'm 24!" Ok? I can't really just take your word for it..

Next, they decided to bitch about how over priced our food was. "We're from L.A......." Long ass pause. Okaaaay. Am I supposed to give you an L.A. discount? Aggravated beyond belief and not being able to suggest going back to where they came from since it's so awesome, I told them I was going to give them some time to decide if they were going to stay or not, and walked away.

Despite our alarming prices, they decided to stay and ordered the very thing they complained about. If they represent people from L.A. I NEVER want to go there. Plus, apparently, they don't tip in L.A. either!

Do you know how we deal with our pent up anger? No, we don't do anything gross with your food. As soon as we walk away and get to a safe distance, we tell everyone that's working and other employees who happen to be there to drink, about you. So yeah, we're all looking at you: while we get you that extra napkin, or walking by the mirror, or stepping out for a smoke... We're watching!

The List

It was brought to my attention that I have yet to write about the adventures, real and imaginary, that my BFFF (For those of you who haven't watched Pineapple Express, the extra "F" is crucial) and I have gone on. I've had what seems like months to think about them, especially since my partner in crime has left me for the exotic and unfamiliar North, two days ago.

To bring you up to speed, I'll explain a little bit about the List: It's a very important mental note that we keep about men who are on the verge of running into us, conversing with us, falling in love with us, chasing us, and catching us (swoon). The top...ten are pretty solid but the rest, easily interchangeable. Just put an attractive man in a period piece and he pops straight up the line.

I would probably have to write a whole 'nother blog about the situations we've cooked up over the years. Here's the most recent exchange via text:

My BFFF told me that she had gone to a diamond exhibit in Chi-town. Naturally, she scouted potential engagement rings for Hugh J. and Chris P. (think Star Trek, not SNL) to buy us.

I started to doubt. Maybe they weren't even thinking about finding us... But NO, my brilliant BFFF steps in to tell me that our men were gazing up at the moon, hoping that we were looking at it too. It's hard to know their true feelings for us when all they do is leave us cryptic hints and subtle gestures when doing interviews. We can't always read between the lines you know!

Of course, all would be forgiven if each man sent us a love letter, a sonata, or an ode even. Daniel Johns must do an entire album though. He owes us for that 20yr. old he's been accessorizing with!