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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.

Fuzzy Lollipop Guild

20 May


So…a few of us at work were commenting on how extremely annoying chicks (like the kind who have baby voices…most likely because their uncle diddled them as a child) have boyfriends who willing put up with them, while I sit alone in my writing cave. Something isn’t right in the world.

One of my co-workers said, “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

I didn’t say there was. Thank you, butt lick.

Two more guys told me, “If I didn’t have a girlfriend, I’d do you.”

Ughhhh. I’m so stoked to know that I’m good enough for you, but only after your first choice isn’t around anymore. And only for a quick lay. Finally, my prince has come! Example 1,869 of why I hate guys in my generation. They all have foot in mouth disease.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one who was having a weird day today. My friend Miss Carley summed up her day in a tweet, “Once again, I feel like Sugar Kane in SOME LIKE IT HOT: stuck with the fuzzy end of the lollipop.” If you’ve never heard of that expression, watch this.

I suggested we start a club, the Fuzzy Lollipop Guild.

So, if you have any fuzzy lollipop stories tweet us @laurensemar or @MissCarley and make sure to use #FLG. Or if you don’t tweet, you can comment below…even if it’s anonymously.

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….

How Low Can You Go?

19 Mar

So…it shouldn’t be too shocking that I agree 100% with this comment. While visiting my parents last week for our Colin Quinn adventure, my Dad, a teacher, told me that the high school district he works for wants to lower the percentages of the grading scale so more students can pass. (Example: a C is normally 70%, it would be changed to 50% for a C.) This would basically ensure than everyone with a high school diploma is now an absolute moron.

If everyone is stupid…who’ll be famous?

I don’t understand why Jon Hamm’s comment offended anyone, it’s the truth. He’s not the only celebrity to think this way. “The fact that the Kardashians could be more popular than a show like Mad Men is disgusting. It’s super disgusting to be a part of that culture.” – Jonah Hill. Exactly, Mad Men is a much better show with smokin’ hot dudes for the ladies (something the Kardashians do NOT have). But, if you’re only watching the Kardashians for Kim’s curvy figure, Christian Hendricks can do that for you on Mad Men, make the switch.

If people got upset because they knew Hamm was right, but they didn’t want anyone calling them out on why they were stupid, I can understand that. The truth can hurt sometimes. Kim Kardashian is famous for making a sex tape. Not something I would call brilliant. But, the ball was in her court so…

“I just heard about the comment Jon Hamm made about me in an interview. I respect Jon and I am a firm believer that everyone is entitled to their own opinion and that not everyone takes the same path in life. We’re all working hard and we all have to respect one another. Calling someone who runs their own businesses, is a part of a successful TV show, produces, writes, designs, and creates, “stupid,” is in my opinion careless.”- Kim K.

Holy God, let me wipe the Bea Arthur look off my face before I try to break this down.

I would have more respect for Kim if she were to come out and say, “Yep, I’m dumb as dirt but I make a ton of money because of it, so I’m happy to be stupid all the way to the bank!”  Her defense, which was most certainly NOT written by her, was ridiculous. Seriously, hard working? You take photos all day, I wish my job was that “hard.”  A hard working business woman is someone like Martha Stewart or Oprah. Kim doesn’t even run her own business, her mom does that, therefore Pimp Mamma Kris Jenner is actually the smart one, NOT Kim.

Since when did we start caring about the losers more than the winners? When Napoleon lost at Waterloo,  he didn’t go back to France to get a big “nice try” parade.  They exiled his ass..because he LOST. They didn’t care about his feelings. Come on, we don’t give out all gold medals at the Olympics to make everyone feel good! We need to stop pandering to the idiots and start celebrating smarts and wit again. But we can’t do that if we keep lowering our standards and everyone is running around with 50% C averages!

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?!

Merry Christmas, Ya Filthy Animal

16 Dec

Trainer and Trainee: 7 years later

So…I’ll take a break from my justified bitterness and post about something cheerful; only because there was epic amounts of booze involved.

I went to the Cast Member Party this week. I hadn’t been in a few years, mostly because I can’t stand strollers and…who am I kidding? It’s really because I can’t stand people in general!

Roger had been at the park all day…with a child (!!!), so we met up at Trader Sam’s for a MUCH needed drink(s) before entering all that “magic.”


Our drink was amazing for a few reasons; it was on fire and it was gigantic. It’s a good thing we had one of these because the party isn’t just for park employees, it’s now for people from the studios in Burbank.  The whole purpose of the party is for employees to enjoy the park without the crowds.  Well, that idea was completely shot to sh*t!

Disgruntled Roger

As we entered the marshmallow world, Roger saw a lot of couples and made him miss coming to the park with his boyfriend. Funny, I don’t miss going to the park with my gay boyfriend!

The Laughin' Place

One good thing about it being freezing cold was that Splash Mountain had no wait. I mean, we were the ONLY people on the ride, which never happens!

We bypassed New Orleans Square because there were still too many people out for me to tolerate and headed to Fantasyland, which was actually pleasant to be in…for once!

The semester's over Rog, give it break!

After riding Snow White for the millionth time, I came to a conclusion. That ride is a horrible and confusing attraction for children. A crazy old witch keeps popping out at you, then the dwarfs murder her and finally, happy ending, get the hell off the ride… WHAT?!

See Mom, I'm eating healthy!

The Carousel was empty as well, basically everyone was on Haunted Mansion Holiday. Yawn, Roger and I used to work that, no big whoop!

Hello peasants!

This is an adorable photo, I don't care what you say Roger!

Over at Dumbo they now hand out wooden crow’s feathers to hold so the cast members know how many people are going to be riding. The Joan Crawford in me came out, that is disgusting. I know they don’t wipe those things off and babies with booger hands have been touching them all day long. Yuck!

Roger was the one in charge of flying, I don't know why he was so scared!

I also have issues with the submarine ride. If this was 1968, the seating would be perfect on that ride. NOW, when everyone is a complete fat ass…one of those subs is going to sink. I also don’t appreciate the chub over floating onto me from the guy on my right. Ew.

Speaking of chub, we hit the corn dog stand. That place is more fine dining than where I work and the quality of food is more consistent too!

If that sign knew anything, it would know the only thing worth celebrating are the corndogs.

How do they expect me to eat this?

As much as I love the corn dog cart, I don’t love the pervy guy that was watching me through the shrubbery as I attempted to eat it. You’re one sick bastard dude.

Finally we made it over to Pirates….to judge everyone. I don’t miss working there at all, but we both agreed that we could still load a boat better than the new people who now inhabit that ride.

The cast party is a nice (fake) gesture, even though the majority of us have to work every holiday because we work for a company that likes the public to think they care about families, when all they really care about is the moolah.

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.

Matchmaker, DON’T Make Me A Match

8 Apr

The only matchmaker I'd trust. (Yes, it's Bette Midler.)

So…while in the depths of a horrible shift on Sunday, (a 20+ table section, which included 30 year old men high fiving each other because one of them had just finished reading their “first book ever.” I’ll let that sink in.) one of my managers comes over to me and says, “Here’s BJ’s * number, I told him you’d call him.” BJ is a regular & I work at a place that shouldn’t have regulars (not only because the food is bland but because it’s a tourist spot.) He is an old, fat guy who wear’s stud earrings…another gay dude? I think yes…and if I think yes, then he’s flaming.

I was/am very frustrated with her for doing that, even though she thinks she’s so smart for it.  All I could hear was the phrase my Dad would tell me when I was being an idiot as a child, “Wile E Coyote, SUUUUPER Genius.”

Why did my manager tell him I’d call him?I don’ t know, but it’s NOT because I ever expressed ANY interest in this dude. As a matter of fact, she asked me about him months ago and I politely said, “UGH, I HATE dating.” Maybe I wasn’t clear enough.

She said he’s exactly what I go for (a closet case, a loser, a man lacking in good taste?), an older man. That’s the SAME thing as saying I should date someone my own age, even though the only thing we have in common is AGE!

Yes, this is annoying but I’m still optimist about finding a good match–on my own time. I know my perfect guy is out there, he’s someone assertive who can deal with Mr.Bojangles, maybe someone like this:


*Name changed– kind of.