Bust It Baby
So I started this and re-started this and then just deleted the whole thing and walked away. I wanted to do some sort of intro to the blog world but nothing I typed seemed right. I'd get two paragraphs in and then just start over. I decided instead of worrying about how to start this blog that I'd get over the fact that it's my "very first official blog" (myspace blog excluded) and just jump right in feet first with a story...so here goes...
Last night was Friday. Friday may not mean much to you, but to me Friday is another chance to go out and have fun and have some sort of crazy story to share with people...or as it turns out these days, my blog! Surely crazy shenanigans ensue on the weekends more often than they do during the week. The weekend means everyone is off of work and ready to booze it up and have a good time. And if you're of the single variety (which I am) then the weekend means another chance to possibly get laid. Yeah, it does...and I feel sorry for you if you're single and the weekend doesn't automatically up your chances of getting laid by 300% like it does for the rest of us.
I wish I could sit here and type about what a fabulously sex-filled night I had...but unfortunately for me (and fortunately for you?) this blog will not contain any of that sweet, that nasty, that gushy stuff. Last night was pretty typical. We, my friends and I, have a routine down which consists of all meeting at the same place and walking to the same place and drinking at the same place and then leaving to go to the same place...and from there is where you write your own story. Really there's comfort in familiarity and knowing what the plan for the night will be. I used to be that "which STD-infested hole do we want to get drunk at tonight?" girls...and it just gets exhausting. Plus there is no driving involved in these plans of ours so there's that.
The night started out like any other. Per usual I was in fancy underwear "just in case" and contemplating what moves I would be making. It turns out I took the easy way out and sent out a text message. Last weekend I was infested with The Swine and when the texts rolled in I was up to my eyeballs in meds and looked like the undead. Since most men aren't in to doing zombies (although they do exist) I chalked the weekend up to a loss and prayed to be healthy by the next weekend. Well, I am healthy now so it would serve right that the text I sent out came back unanswered. Fucking figures right? The night you are bed-ridden is the night the texts won't stop and the night you're out in your $40 sparkly bra you don't get an answer...
The more I checked my phone...the more I found it silent...the more I drank. In about 2 hours I managed to throw down 3 double X-rated/sours and 3 more vodka shots. Let's not forget the glass of chocolate wine I had before I left and the half beer I chugged at bar time...waste not, want not. I believe the correct term to use here would be "shit-faced" cuz that's what I was. At this point I realized my only hope was an a-bar text but I pretty much had given up that one too.
The only thing worse than being rejected is being rejected by your back up plan. Oh come on...you all know what I'm talking about...the back up guy. The one who is typically a shoe-in for a good time should you both find yourself drunk and availabe at the same time. Believe it or not gentleman, we ladies are fully capable of sex with no strings attached. In fact, I was able to pull off a "not a relationship relationship" for 2 years. I didn't want to date him and he didn't want to date anyone. It was convenient at the time. No feelings got involved...okay, well I would get pissed when other girls I worked with tried to fuck him...but that's just because I'm not much of a "let's share bodily fluids with everyone in the office" type of girl. I didn't care who he slept with...unless I knew her. That was my only line not to cross. When I quit that job I heard rumor of another coworker wanting to sink their claws in to him so I just surrendered. I was leaving anyway. She could have him...and that was the end of that.
But my long point there is that I absolutely have no problem with casual back up plans. Sure...all girls would rather just have someone to love them...but let's be realistic. Why not have fun with Mr. Right Now while waiting for Mr. Right? You never know what's going on with Mr. Right. Maybe he doesn't have his shit together. Maybe he's got mom complexes to work through. Maybe he's still hung up on his ex. Maybe he's in a relationship right now that he needs to leave first. There are so many things that could be holding up the arrival of Mr. Right that Right Now passes for me. I'm not too old for these games...yet...
So the night ended with the drunk walk home and I went to sleep. Scratch that...I heated up my left over hamburger helper...ate it...facebooked...then went to sleep. I knew I had to work today but I thought it would be a nice quick 3 hour day shift and I'd be home and back in bed in no time. 'Tis why I got shitfaced last night. I thought I'd be able to handle a morning shift. I'd hate myself no doubt but Sunday is the big 10 hour day and so Saturday night (tonight) I'd take her easy. And if she was easy I'd take her twice...
But as it turns out, as it always turns out, today was not the cake-walk shift I was looking for. I only vomitted once this morning and as I had my head in the toilet I was rather thankful that I woke up alone. Nothing sucks more than waking up feeling vomitty and gassy and having a naked man next to you that you have to try and hide your tummy gurgles from. My shower couldn't have gone on long enough. I never wanted to leave it because I knew that only meant I had to get dressed and go to work.
Chicken Legs Land is a sports bar. When there is a home Badger football game you expect the place to fill up with people unlucky enough to buy a ticket. Well, there in Fitchburg we're a little too far from the action. Sure we had some people, but it was relatively boring most of the day which made it drag. And then the game was over...and boom. Just like that, everyone who had been downtown was heading back to the west side and they wanted wings. Usually a day shift ends before 2pm. My shift didn't really even start until 2 and I had already been there 3 hours. Somewhere around 3 I realized I had had nothing to eat all day but that morning bagel at around 930.
I don't know about you guys, but 6 hours without food makes Alicia a cranky bitch. Someone asked if they could eat and we got the "we're too busy" reply. Later I heard rumor that people were putting in food. Hallelujah! Time to eat. I came in to work already down to about 80%. By this time I was performing at well under 30%. When I asked my manager if I could put food in I got a very loud and resounding "No. Only the doubles can eat." A double shift works 10:45 to volume and then again 5 to volume. Essentially they come in at 1045 and spend the entire day there on game day. While I understood that I would get to go home once my tables were gone while they had to stay...I had still been there as long as everyone else and was just as hungry.
At one point I had a tray filled with wings that I almost dropped. I heard the 5 guys at the table all yell out when they saw it tip to the side which knocked me out of my zombie-like-hunger-trance and I was able to save it, but it could have gotten ugly real quick. I missed entering a guys entire meal. I was fucking up because my brain had no food to power it. And I was getting CRANKY. Once 5 rolled around the next shift of workers was walking in...but the people of the west side didn't get the shift change memo and I got 5 tables in between 4:50 and 5:15 when my replacement arrived. Those 5 tables kept me at bdubs until 6:30.
I worked a 7.5 hour shift today with NO break and NO food. I don't know what "restaurant rules" are, but I'm pretty sure I can at least get that place for not giving me 15 minutes to sit down and eat. As it turns out I've lost all my fury already so I won't even bother. However, next time I get told that only the doubles get to eat I will probably end up putting food in anyway and telling them to suck it or face the consequences. Haven't decided what those would be, but boy there will be some!
I decided to hell with bdubs food...when I'm done I'm hitting the drive through. On my way home I got off on Park St and pulled directly in to Burger King and ordered a LARGE #1 with cheese, hold the tomato and onion. My soda, which is as big as my head, is sitting next to me only about half finished right now. It's sweating all over my vanity and I'm thinking it may pool to my laptop soon. The burger didn't even barely make it to Johnson St. I still have the salty fries sitting next to me right now and I can't bring myself to finish them because the thought of putting another morsel of food in my mouth makes me want to put my head back in the toilet.
Of course it figured that at the point on my drive home where I had the entire burger shoved in to my face I was at a red light next to a fabulously attractive ambulance driver. I feel like he judged me when he looked over. Kind of like...keep eating that burger like that and I may end up at a call at your place in the near future when your heart gives out. It's enough to make a girl set the rest of the burger in the bag and ball it up.
You know your body goes in to "safe mode" when it thinks it's starving. It holds on to every little bit of fat that you intake and stores it just in case you "starve" again. Pretty sure that entire combo meal made it's way to places other combo meals have been before. All thanks to my manager. I wouldn't have been devouring that burger had he let me eat a regular sized meal half way through the day.
But alas I made it through the day rather unharmed. It could be worse. I could be that Illinois driver I followed earlier with the license plate that said GUDGREF. Charlie Brown was cute when he uttered the words. FIBs actually paying the state of Illinois money to display a gigantic butchering of the English language--not so much. It's not even like "using numbers for words" cute. They took WAY too many liberties with that one and if I had money to burn I would've rear-ended them out of principle. Then I would've gotten out of my car and told them their vanity plate offended me and 'twas why I decided not to stop until I ran in to it.
So that's it. My weekend that I SO looked forward to when I was bed-ridden last week has so far turned out to be a bust. Can't win them all I suppose. As it turns out it's time to start my Saturday night. I got to hit the showers and wash the salt off of me. So until next time...
Last night was Friday. Friday may not mean much to you, but to me Friday is another chance to go out and have fun and have some sort of crazy story to share with people...or as it turns out these days, my blog! Surely crazy shenanigans ensue on the weekends more often than they do during the week. The weekend means everyone is off of work and ready to booze it up and have a good time. And if you're of the single variety (which I am) then the weekend means another chance to possibly get laid. Yeah, it does...and I feel sorry for you if you're single and the weekend doesn't automatically up your chances of getting laid by 300% like it does for the rest of us.
I wish I could sit here and type about what a fabulously sex-filled night I had...but unfortunately for me (and fortunately for you?) this blog will not contain any of that sweet, that nasty, that gushy stuff. Last night was pretty typical. We, my friends and I, have a routine down which consists of all meeting at the same place and walking to the same place and drinking at the same place and then leaving to go to the same place...and from there is where you write your own story. Really there's comfort in familiarity and knowing what the plan for the night will be. I used to be that "which STD-infested hole do we want to get drunk at tonight?" girls...and it just gets exhausting. Plus there is no driving involved in these plans of ours so there's that.
The night started out like any other. Per usual I was in fancy underwear "just in case" and contemplating what moves I would be making. It turns out I took the easy way out and sent out a text message. Last weekend I was infested with The Swine and when the texts rolled in I was up to my eyeballs in meds and looked like the undead. Since most men aren't in to doing zombies (although they do exist) I chalked the weekend up to a loss and prayed to be healthy by the next weekend. Well, I am healthy now so it would serve right that the text I sent out came back unanswered. Fucking figures right? The night you are bed-ridden is the night the texts won't stop and the night you're out in your $40 sparkly bra you don't get an answer...
The more I checked my phone...the more I found it silent...the more I drank. In about 2 hours I managed to throw down 3 double X-rated/sours and 3 more vodka shots. Let's not forget the glass of chocolate wine I had before I left and the half beer I chugged at bar time...waste not, want not. I believe the correct term to use here would be "shit-faced" cuz that's what I was. At this point I realized my only hope was an a-bar text but I pretty much had given up that one too.
The only thing worse than being rejected is being rejected by your back up plan. Oh come on...you all know what I'm talking about...the back up guy. The one who is typically a shoe-in for a good time should you both find yourself drunk and availabe at the same time. Believe it or not gentleman, we ladies are fully capable of sex with no strings attached. In fact, I was able to pull off a "not a relationship relationship" for 2 years. I didn't want to date him and he didn't want to date anyone. It was convenient at the time. No feelings got involved...okay, well I would get pissed when other girls I worked with tried to fuck him...but that's just because I'm not much of a "let's share bodily fluids with everyone in the office" type of girl. I didn't care who he slept with...unless I knew her. That was my only line not to cross. When I quit that job I heard rumor of another coworker wanting to sink their claws in to him so I just surrendered. I was leaving anyway. She could have him...and that was the end of that.
But my long point there is that I absolutely have no problem with casual back up plans. Sure...all girls would rather just have someone to love them...but let's be realistic. Why not have fun with Mr. Right Now while waiting for Mr. Right? You never know what's going on with Mr. Right. Maybe he doesn't have his shit together. Maybe he's got mom complexes to work through. Maybe he's still hung up on his ex. Maybe he's in a relationship right now that he needs to leave first. There are so many things that could be holding up the arrival of Mr. Right that Right Now passes for me. I'm not too old for these games...yet...
So the night ended with the drunk walk home and I went to sleep. Scratch that...I heated up my left over hamburger helper...ate it...facebooked...then went to sleep. I knew I had to work today but I thought it would be a nice quick 3 hour day shift and I'd be home and back in bed in no time. 'Tis why I got shitfaced last night. I thought I'd be able to handle a morning shift. I'd hate myself no doubt but Sunday is the big 10 hour day and so Saturday night (tonight) I'd take her easy. And if she was easy I'd take her twice...
But as it turns out, as it always turns out, today was not the cake-walk shift I was looking for. I only vomitted once this morning and as I had my head in the toilet I was rather thankful that I woke up alone. Nothing sucks more than waking up feeling vomitty and gassy and having a naked man next to you that you have to try and hide your tummy gurgles from. My shower couldn't have gone on long enough. I never wanted to leave it because I knew that only meant I had to get dressed and go to work.
Chicken Legs Land is a sports bar. When there is a home Badger football game you expect the place to fill up with people unlucky enough to buy a ticket. Well, there in Fitchburg we're a little too far from the action. Sure we had some people, but it was relatively boring most of the day which made it drag. And then the game was over...and boom. Just like that, everyone who had been downtown was heading back to the west side and they wanted wings. Usually a day shift ends before 2pm. My shift didn't really even start until 2 and I had already been there 3 hours. Somewhere around 3 I realized I had had nothing to eat all day but that morning bagel at around 930.
I don't know about you guys, but 6 hours without food makes Alicia a cranky bitch. Someone asked if they could eat and we got the "we're too busy" reply. Later I heard rumor that people were putting in food. Hallelujah! Time to eat. I came in to work already down to about 80%. By this time I was performing at well under 30%. When I asked my manager if I could put food in I got a very loud and resounding "No. Only the doubles can eat." A double shift works 10:45 to volume and then again 5 to volume. Essentially they come in at 1045 and spend the entire day there on game day. While I understood that I would get to go home once my tables were gone while they had to stay...I had still been there as long as everyone else and was just as hungry.
At one point I had a tray filled with wings that I almost dropped. I heard the 5 guys at the table all yell out when they saw it tip to the side which knocked me out of my zombie-like-hunger-trance and I was able to save it, but it could have gotten ugly real quick. I missed entering a guys entire meal. I was fucking up because my brain had no food to power it. And I was getting CRANKY. Once 5 rolled around the next shift of workers was walking in...but the people of the west side didn't get the shift change memo and I got 5 tables in between 4:50 and 5:15 when my replacement arrived. Those 5 tables kept me at bdubs until 6:30.
I worked a 7.5 hour shift today with NO break and NO food. I don't know what "restaurant rules" are, but I'm pretty sure I can at least get that place for not giving me 15 minutes to sit down and eat. As it turns out I've lost all my fury already so I won't even bother. However, next time I get told that only the doubles get to eat I will probably end up putting food in anyway and telling them to suck it or face the consequences. Haven't decided what those would be, but boy there will be some!
I decided to hell with bdubs food...when I'm done I'm hitting the drive through. On my way home I got off on Park St and pulled directly in to Burger King and ordered a LARGE #1 with cheese, hold the tomato and onion. My soda, which is as big as my head, is sitting next to me only about half finished right now. It's sweating all over my vanity and I'm thinking it may pool to my laptop soon. The burger didn't even barely make it to Johnson St. I still have the salty fries sitting next to me right now and I can't bring myself to finish them because the thought of putting another morsel of food in my mouth makes me want to put my head back in the toilet.
Of course it figured that at the point on my drive home where I had the entire burger shoved in to my face I was at a red light next to a fabulously attractive ambulance driver. I feel like he judged me when he looked over. Kind of like...keep eating that burger like that and I may end up at a call at your place in the near future when your heart gives out. It's enough to make a girl set the rest of the burger in the bag and ball it up.
You know your body goes in to "safe mode" when it thinks it's starving. It holds on to every little bit of fat that you intake and stores it just in case you "starve" again. Pretty sure that entire combo meal made it's way to places other combo meals have been before. All thanks to my manager. I wouldn't have been devouring that burger had he let me eat a regular sized meal half way through the day.
But alas I made it through the day rather unharmed. It could be worse. I could be that Illinois driver I followed earlier with the license plate that said GUDGREF. Charlie Brown was cute when he uttered the words. FIBs actually paying the state of Illinois money to display a gigantic butchering of the English language--not so much. It's not even like "using numbers for words" cute. They took WAY too many liberties with that one and if I had money to burn I would've rear-ended them out of principle. Then I would've gotten out of my car and told them their vanity plate offended me and 'twas why I decided not to stop until I ran in to it.
So that's it. My weekend that I SO looked forward to when I was bed-ridden last week has so far turned out to be a bust. Can't win them all I suppose. As it turns out it's time to start my Saturday night. I got to hit the showers and wash the salt off of me. So until next time...
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