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It’s Not Me, It’s You

14 Jul
What an inviting mascot.

What an inviting mascot…from your nightmares.

So…after enough years at the same job, I quit.  I worked there so long that I needed help from my roommate and friends to remember all the crazy ass stuff that I’ve seen and that has happened to me while working there. As many of you know I worked at a restaurant at a theme park in Southern California. (Figure it out.)Also, the mascot looks like a GIGANTIC Klan member…I didn’t just put a creepy racist clown photo up to creep you out for no reason. stupid people That job made be realize how INCREDIBLY stupid people are. I got  sick of explaining what penne is….PENNE! Where do people eat that they don’t know what a simple form of pasta is? Speaking of forms. It doesn’t matter what shape your pasta is assholes. It ALL tastes the same and it will all leave your stink hole the same way. Adults who bitch about what shape pasta they receive were the shit head kids that don’t eat crust and only wanted buttered noodles. And how is buttered noodles an acceptable dinner for kids?? There is ZERO nuterion in that. I didn’t even know that was an option for a dinner until I started that job in my twenties, why? Because my parents didn’t let me decide what I ate. Why? Because as my Dad said about parenting, “This is a dictatorship, not a democracy.” white devil! Most importantly, stereotypes are true. But the worst kind of  people (this is not limited to my place of work) are parents. Hands down. I’m sure those of you with kids are thinking, “You don’t have kids, you don’t know.” I’m not a parent, I’m a sane (angry) person. What I do know is, letting your kid pull their pants down and drop a watery deuce in the middle of our patio seating makes me want to punch you in your reproductive organs. Yes, that actually happened.merp Or when a kid crapped so hard, it shot up it’s back, the Mom washed it off in one of the bathroom sinks. She clogged that sink with poo, switched to the other sink, clogged that one and left the people crapping in the stalls with no sink to wash of their dooky hands. Those are just SOME of the gross stories I have. asshole kidKids are evil, but they are evil because of crappy parenting.  For example, parents letting their kids beat me with balloon animals like I was Joe Pesci at the end of Casino, or let them run around me while I carry 16 drinks…assholes. Little kids who have cellphones make me want to drop kick them into a fountain. Who are they texting? One, they don’t know how to spell. Two, when you’re 6 years old, the majority of the people you know in life are at the same dinner WITH YOU! I’ve seen a teenager, sitting right next to her Mom, tell her to “shut up” then threw a FORK at her Mom’s head! I wish the story ended with, ‘and then the Mom took her outside and beat her kid’s ass,’ but  she ended up calmly asking her violent hell child “what’s wrong?” GAH!  Once while I was taking an order, I had a kid look up at me and cough INTO MY MOUTH. The parents said nothing, dicks, I didn’t even excuse myself, I just walked away. Here’s a tip for other servers: If  the Mom is in the bathroom when it’s time to order, don’t go to the table because all modern fathers are useless. I truly mean that, they are just walking sperm donors. They don’t know what they’re own children are “allowed” to have. GOD DAMN IT! You’re a man, pick for them. Juice or water? Stop being a little bitch. Now, a happy story: One time a kid ran straight into a lamp pole. I laughed SO damn hard. eww get off meNow, I don’t have to deal with gross co-workers touching me or saying inappropriate things to me. What do I mean by inappropriate? ” I want to put olive oils all over your body and massage you with my feets, then put my big toe in your butt.”  Gross and I hate olive oil. Or customers wanting me to join them for a threesome, barf. People need to stop.

After all these terrible stories, do I miss it?  Well, it was easy, aside from all the assholes, and I made really good money….so kind of. 

Young Americans

8 Apr

dumbassSo…as I have said many times, I deal with an unusually high amount of idiots at my job…well, everywhere actually, they’re just more highly concentrated at my work. As I was getting my section ready one night I heard David Bowie being piped in and commented to a coworker about the song being so good and how I’d rather hear his songs than that stupid ass violinist playing the theme to Schindler’s List every night. (Because nothing says happy vacation time like the theme song from a movie about genocide, right?) Smart coworker agreed with me and then Dumbass chimed in. “Who the fuck is David Bowie?”

pray for brainsI Bea Arthured that d-bag. My eyes rolled back so far, I think I bruised them. Thankfully Smartie started the smack down for me, “Um, The Labyrinthine?” DA, “What the fuck is…how ever you say that word?”

I know what some of you hippies are thinking, “No, young people are smart. They’re always researching things on the interwebs.”

realpeople1 realpeople2

Me and only a handful of my friends use the computer for learning and not finding out where to buy a chin-do . Example: The trailer for Behind the Candelabra came out today. I looked up when Liberace died, then what happened to Liberace’s lover, which lead me to finding out what happened to his brother George. Welcome to my brain.

abby normalDumbass is a perfect example of what is wrong with the youth of America, they are not ashamed of their stupidity. Actually, they are proud of it, they flaunt it. I blame anti-bullying. I can hear you now, “Don’t make them feel bad for being stupid.” Why not? They try, with their abby-normal brains, to make me feel bad for being smart. If they could successfully put me down, they would essentially be bullying me. That seems to be ok with everyone though. It’s PC for dumb people to make fun of smart people but not vice versa. 

Thinking is hard, reading is hard…Smart people should be celebrated and dumb asses should want to change their ways. That probably won’t happen.  Maybe I should…lower expectations

and then….


…maybe I’ll only do the second thing. Come on dummies, stop being such…dummies!! Go learn one new thing today. Just one. And here’s some Bowie, for those of you who don’t know who he is.

Eye Roll

8 May

But please, you go ahead and continue being rude to my face.

So…I must look like a priest because every day is like confessional. I don’t know why random strangers EVERYWHERE come up to me and tell me crap they really shouldn’t be saying out loud, or at the very least, not to a complete stranger. Especially when that stranger has a great memory and a blog!

99% of the time when I get tables from the East Coast they are from Long Island, but this time I got a table from New Jersey. They asked me where I was from, “California.” “No way. You have a weird accent. Where are you from originally,” they said. They are not the first people to comment on my “weird accent.” Uncouth people point it out all the time. In a culture that is disgustingly too PC, it always cracks me up when people feel like they can point out a difference in someone. Normally, I ask people where they think I’m from.

Here are some of the places I sound like I’m from:

Boston: I have a friend for Boston who confirms that I say Mom, candy and car like I’m from Boston.

New York: I have no clue how anyone could think this.

Atlanta &  Texas: I have a twang sometimes, I can see this.

Seattle: They have accents?!

England: No.

The table from New  Jersey thought I was from somewhere in New York. This should have been my first clue number to them being totally nuts. I told them that I’m from the middle of California and I might have a…unique dialect because I grew up around a Scottish granny and a bunch of old Okies.

“What’s an Okie,” they asked. Right here is where I gave them too much credit. I thought that no one who’s gone through the public school system in America could NOT know about the Dust Bowl.

“You know, the Dust Bowl,” I said.

And that’s when I had to explain the Dust Bowl to a table of adults.

Why are they admitting they don’t know?!?!  I didn’t need to know how truly dumb they were. They could have kept that a secret! Nope, it was confessional time. They were dummies.

I referenced Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath because he lived with the Okies in Bakersfield. (I know you want to know where Mom, out by Pumpkin Center.) My English teacher went to school with kids who lived in the same camp as him, a neat fact that was lost on these morons. Still, they had no clue. I swear to God, this country’s finished.

“Huh,” was their response to my history lesson.

“Yea, it was kind of a big deal in the 1930s. Have a great vacation,” I said.

Then I turned, walked away and rolled my eyes so hard they fell out of my head.

Such Is Life

6 May

Then your cat gets titty cancer and you die alone.

So…here are some true stories from my life that occurred in the past two weeks. I don’t really know what they say about me…how to become a hermit in 30 days or less, tips for a young cat lady, idiots and the people who hate them? All I know is, I’m wasting all my attractive years alone, dealing with the weirdest people possible and that’s not right.

At least it’s funny—in a sad way.

I always get crazy people at work, but rarely do I get people who make me feel freaking uncomfortable. I was dealing with a party of 20, twenty-somethings-my favorite-and half a hour into the meal someone new arrived. Picture this: a young woman dressed in biker gear. Got it? She’s also a lesbian midget in a motorized wheelchair. This was our interaction, note that her responses are highly over sexualized in tone:

Me: Can I get you a drink?

Crazy: I want your glasses on my face.

Me: Can I get you a drink for your mouth?

Crazy: Only if you feed it to me. (Flicks her tongue Gene Simmons style.)

I come back with her Coke.

Crazy: You can’t deny this. I love you.

Kill me.

Normally the only guys that try to flirt with me on the freeway are creepy gardeners. One afternoon, in stopped traffic, a twelve year old boy pops his head out of the back passenger window, points to me and mouths, “You,” points to himself, “Me,” then nods. What  a weirdo, I thought. Two minutes later he did it again to make sure I knew it was for me and made threw a bunch of air kisses and call me hand gestures.

Glad to know I’m popular with under-aged boys, says the girl whose preference is older men.

Just yesterday I had a black guy (duh, the only kind of guy that hits on me on a regular basis) ask me if I would do the Twist with him. I don’t know if that’s some new hip hop term for a sex move or what. He wanted me to hang out with him and his group of friends who tipped me less than 10% on an almost $300 check.

After all this nonsense, I had an emergency and subsequent melt down.

The photo isn’t mine: my skin and cat are not orange, nor are they this small.

One of the few things that doesn’t drive me to punch people in the face is my cat, Mr. Bojangles (yeah, that’s his real name. Do not call him Bojangles if you’re nasty.) I took him to the vet because I felt a lump. The Dr. asked if I’d realized the bump was next to his nipple. No, I don’t particularly enjoy molesting cats, if that’s what you’re getting at. She told me it could be breast cancer…on my male cat. Really? Only I would get a boy cat with titty cancer. After tests, three days of waiting and one bowl of raw cookie dough I am happy to say he’s fine but now I have to feel him up on a regular basis. At least someone in this house will be getting some action.

God had sparred my cat’s life, I was feeling pretty good and emerged from my cave. I drove up to hang out with my Granny’s 92 year old friend to talk about old movies and history. (I’m popular with the underage and senior crowds.) I had dinner with my parents at a friend of the family’s restaurant. The waitress knows them and overhead us talking about seeing Colin Quinn last month.

Waitress: Is that the comedian you guys saw?

Me: Yep.

Waitress: Yea, I watched that special and I didn’t get it.  I don’t think you have good taste in comedians.

Me: Shut your face.

In my experience, a way to get a good tip is to NOT insult your table’s taste in anything. My positive outlook on humanity came crashing back down to reality. I’m back in my writing cave and I won’t be coming out until next month when I go to New York  to visit my friend Taylor. I’m planning on seeing Colin at the Comedy Cellar, because I think he’s fabulous and because I “get it.” Maybe I’ll even meet a nice guy who’s smart….

Can’t Get Enough…On Second Thought

19 Dec

"Some things I can't get used to, no matter how hard I try."- Barry White

So…I’d like to make something very clear. I like a steak dinner, kissing (no tongue!) , hair petting and some smooth Barry White tunes playing when someone is trying to eff the crap out of me!

Maybe I should tell my managers that since they keep workin’ me like I’m some tore back hooker or prison yard bitch! Again with the 7 table sections! I thought everyone else was running around like me…nope. There were some people who only had 3 tables the entire night. That totally sucks because I would GLADLY give them part of my village of tables.

I asked someone why do I ALWAYS get slammed, why?

“Because baby, you’re the best.”

Seriously, not only is that one of the worst James Bond theme songs, but when someone is “the best” they are typically treated as such. Or treated with R-E-S-P-E-C-T…a much better song.

I’m angry/stressed 99% of my shift and now the hostesses think of me as the girl from ‘Waiting.‘ And really, I can’t blame them, watch the clip…that is me. In addition to that, I have SIX shifts this week. One step closer to my early onset stroke! Just in time for the holidays.

If anyone needs a hint for a Christmas gift for me; I need a new mouth guard. All the serving nightmares I keep having has caused me to grind straight through mine.

I know, super sexy!  How don’t I have a boyfriend?!

Let’s Call The Whole Thing Off…But I’m Still Right

15 Dec

So…I had to go to a meeting at work on Monday. I was informed by my general manager (who looks like Uncle Fester’s long lost twin) that my goal as a server is to give customers the best possible service because I work at a fine dining restaurant. Really?

I thought about that later in the evening as I watched my 7 table section fill up all at once, while I got the drink order for a party of 12. All while getting smacked in the face over and over with balloon animals.

I don’t know what kind of “fine dining” places this poor sucker is eating at, but I’ve been to classy restaurants all over the world. The ONE thing they all had in common—NO BALLOON ANIMALS!

In addition to that, I don’t recall waiters ever in a full on sprint because their section just got slammed at any upscale restaurants…or Asians changing their baby’s diaper on the same table as their food, or children ralphing all over the place. Actually, children aren’t allowed at nice restaurants, that’s part of what makes them nice.

But, you know, you say fine dining, I say you’re an idiot.

You Won’t Like Me When I’m Angry

4 Jul

So… Day 6 is pet peeve day!!!  Prepare yourselves for what could possibly be the longest entry EVER! There are so many things that piss me off and so little time to write about them all.


Rule Breakers

People who crowd lines, lie, cheat and think they are better than the rules. You are raging buttholes! Your parents should have smacked you more. I used to work in a theme park, so I had to call people out regarding this rule ALL the time. And I don’t care who you are (Frodo Baggins) NO ONE CROWDS in line!!  I will send a pack of horny tweens to chase you. (True story) The rules are there for a reason.

If you need to check for it's existence every hour because you can't feel it in your pants, it's nothing special, just leave it alone...just like everyone else does.

Guys Who ALWAYS Touch Their Junk

I know they don’t wash their hands afterwards,leaving  their sick effing wiener sweat on stuff you touch. What would they think of girls did that and then touched stuff…yeah, gross, I thought so! STOP IT!

Overused Terms/Phrases

Organic. I know how to properly use that word…do you? Do NOT tell me, “Oh your ideas are so organic.” WHAT? I didn’t plant my ideas in the dirt and pour cow dump on them. Surreal. “Oh wow, winning an Oscar is so surreal.” The proper response is, “Wow, I never thought I’d get one of these because I’m actually a super crappy actress (*cough, Halle Berry, cough.*)” It is what it is. NO SH*T! What else would IT be? An Oompa-loompa?

Barf worthy: Hubby, preggers, and make love. All of these terms make me uncomfortable.

Baby voice & pig tails, yuck!

 Baby Voiced Women

I don’t know what I despise more, woman who do this or the men who love it. Do guys really like stupid, over grown baby whores? I don’t know, but what I do know is that it’s fake and I can NOT stand fake people.

I know you're a lazy ass, but just STOP IT!

Litter Bugs aka Lazy Bastards

I’ve never been a janitor, worked at a grocery store or a movie theater, but I can’t stand people who leave their crap everywhere and except someone else to clean it up. Entitled, lazy idiots! Leaving drinks and popcorn in a movie theater really pissed me off. I know the ushers come in to tidy up after the film, but you were sitting on your fat ass for 2 hours…you can throw an empty cup away.

Also, ads with animals get me every time. It is NOT hard to cut the rings in your six pack containers so birds and turtles don’t get stuck in them!!!

I have seen this done MORE than once.

Changing Diapers In Public

Dear Idiot Parents,

Why would you change your smelly, germy, dump filled diaper on a table people eat off of in a RESTAURANT?!?! Not only that, you put the diaper in a Target bag on a chair right next to your’s as you continued eating your pizza with the hands you just used to wipe the poo off your kid’s butt!!  If I could smell the death lurking in those Pampers, so could everyone else eating around you. RUDE! Do your legs not work? Can you not make it to the bathroom? Oh, I get it, you’re just super lazy. Always a great quality to have as a parent.  Also, you must really love everything about crap since you kept eating without even putting some Purell on  to cover the fact that you didn’t wash your hands. I know you are sick bastards but there are actual sick bastards who are child predators that eat out as well. Good job for flashing your kids’ junk for all to see, including creepy dudes who live in vans.

*True Story

ALSO—Happy Fourth of July!  To celebrate I’ll be serving ingrates who should be at home, eating burnt hot dogs, like I wish I was.


2 Aug
So…I don’t really write about work too much because I try to de-stress afterwards to prevent my impending stroke. Like most servers I’m “not really a waitress” and I hate that I’m a cliche; serving tables and trying to be a writer. I will say that for someone who wants to write, serving is a great job because you see the freakiest people. For some reason they are all drawn, or sent to, to my section. I will share a few of these crazies with you. Some are actual weirdos and some are weird but super cool.
One, one over priced pizza! Ah, ah, ah.
I will start with some of my co-workers. For the most part I like the people I work with but for some reason we have a bunch of Romanians that work there and they are hilarious. They call me Roscata, which means redhead…for all I know it could actually mean fart face, but it sounds cool. One of  them is an older woman who is very pushy but I think she’s hilarious. I have heard her tell children “Hello, I am ___, from Transylvania, ah, ah ah.” She doesn’t know who Count von Count is from Sesame Street, so I’m left to think that all people from Romania talk like that TV character. The Romanians also are convinced everyone is a gypsy, not the gypsies, tramps and thieves, groovy, Cher kind, more like the kind that are missing limbs because they were caught stealing. I’m serious. I have a million stories about them because I remind the majority of them of a sister “back home” and when one of them found out I have Hungarian blood in me they were stoked and told me in Hungary they have a political party that is against gypsies. I love it.
Want to be my girlfriend?
Of course I have my fair share of hell babies that make my uterus want to dry up and blow away like a tumble weed in an old Western movie (that’s a whole other entry!) but then I get the kids that are like the kryptonite of cuteness. Little kids who think I’m The Little Mermaid, kids who teach me baby sign language, Dos Equis kid, and a bunch more I’m sure. But one kid sticks out in my head almost 2 year after serving him. This kid was about five years old and wanted to follow me around everywhere I went and since we were slow, I let him. While chatting with his family he kept lifting his shirt up like Tracy Jordan does on 30 Rock and it was cracking me up. He told me he’d give me a X-Box if I’d be his girlfriend. Then he up-ed it to a X-Box and $30. So if someone ever tells me I’m worthless I can say, “No, I’m worth at least $30 and a X-Box.” Thanks weird little kid.
Where can I hide money?
The last person I will leave you with is most assuredly a nut job, for realsies. He came upstairs during Christmas time, wandered around and refused to talk to our ex-general manager, I don’t blame him because he was a douche, and of course they put him where all trouble customers go, my section. Like I’m some kind of customer soothsayer or something. He gave me a bank envelope of all of his money and told me he’s not allowed to touch money, doctor’s orders. He ordered off the kids menu because that’s all he could afford and here are the rules I had to follow:
1. Only I could get his drinks and run his food.
2. I had to wash my hand each time before doing so.
3. I couldn’t walk past any bathroom with his food or drink.
4. The buss boys couldn’t clean near him.
5. I had to cut his food for him.
THEN after finishing his meal, and yes he was the LAST person there, he asked me where he could hide money. I have never been asked that. He said he wanted to hide money somewhere in Downtown Disney so when he comes back he could have his money. I use a wallet, it’s kind like peek-a boo with money but maybe this system works for him. He asked me if I could keep the money for him, no way. He paid, lurked around the restaurant some more, grabbed two kids menus to use as make shift gloves to keep germs away and bolted out the door. To this day my coworkers reference this guy as the weirdest person they’ve ever seen and are still amazed at how patient I was with him, especially for a $5 tip!
Oh yea, and vote for my photo so I can win a walk on role on Mad Men!!! My friend Dave took the photo and does really great work, check him out, especially if you need head shots all my Second City buddies!!

The Most Interesting Kid In The World

12 Jul
If Charleston Heston and Ricardo Montalban had a love baby, it’d be this dude.
So…like any other night I was working, serving the masses and their hell babies when I started a new table. I told the kid the list of sodas and listed the beers for the dad when this 8 year old chubby little boy said, “I don’t always drink beer but when I do, I drink Dos Equis.” That kid is officially the coolest kid I’ve ever met. I died laughing because this 8 year old quoted one of the coolest beer commercials ever, and I don’t even drink beer! Haven’t seen ’em, here you go:
I thought that kid better keep being funny because he was a little chubster and being funny helps mask what’s actually weird about you. Take it from me, the child giant.
No, I’m not 14 I’m in 5th freakin’ grade!
After watching a bunch of comedy DVDs lately I have found that most funny people are funny because they are depressed or fat or depressed because they are fat…which doesn’t explain why the majority of them turn to hard drugs, that’s just stupid. Maybe I’m funny because I was a tall chubby kid, I don’t really care, I just want to make money off it!
Rock on funny chubby kids, you’re 100% cooler than the jocks and sluts. Trust me.