Wednesday, August 20

forgive me bill paxton

so monday morning i woke up at like 6AM (and just humor me because i didn't have to to work till noon so rude, right?).  and the only reason i woke up at 6AM is because i got pretty hammered sunday morning on screwdrivers and blind russians and then was passed out by 8PM that same night.  so when i woke up i felt fresh as a goddamn daisy and ready to take on the next six hours before i had to show up for four hours of work (which should be the new thing FYI.  only working like four hours a day but still getting paid for the full forty.  who do i talk to about making that happen?). 

but anyway.  i got up, drank coffee, ate a breakfast sandwich, swept the floors (which is pointless because there is a never ending supply of dog hair tumbleweeds forever drifting through the house),  did the dishes, watched so you think you can dance, painted my toenails, watched mistresses, and painted my fingernails.  and then it was only like 9AM and i was all "what should i do next?"  and naturally i turned to whatever tv show i can get on my roku.
and then i forgot that amazon prime had just hooked up with hbo and there were tons of legit shows that i never got to watch because i'm too poor to pay for hbo and i thought that i might as well start there.

so after cruising through all that was offered i ended up settling on big love.
understand that i'm a sucker/obsessed with anything to do with religion.  maybe it's because i majored in religious studies in college and since i'm not doing anything at all related to said major that sometimes it just becomes necessary for my brain to gobble up anything that has any sort of connection to any type of organized religion.  but i digress.
because big love.  and because like less than ten minutes in, and just a little after 9AM, did i find my eyes treated to a flashed shot of bill paxton's ball sac and then his naked ass.  and let the record show that i don't think any time of the day is ever appropriate for a shot, although it brief, of bill paxton's berries.  THIS IS BILL PAXTON (in case you forgot).

there are literally like a million more men i can think of that i would like a sac flash from.  but no - bill paxton in the morning is what i'm allowed.  rude.  but the point is that the show is based on a mormon family practicing polygamy.  and being only three episodes in there hasn't been too many religious aspects revealed (saved for the brief walk through of a tiny bit of their history) so i'm hoping that there ends up being more that i can get my grubby history and religion-loving paws on because YES I AM A NERD.

also i can't help but think that we should give kudos where kudos are due when it comes to polygamy.  whether you agree with it or not that shit looks difficult to juggle.  considering bill paxton has three wives, seven kids, and three different households to sort out on a daily basis - i certainly don't envy him.  sometimes shitler is pesty enough for like one whole hour so i can't imagine me having more than one spouse and sometimes the mutts are hard to wrangle so no thanks seven children.  and then i can't help but think that sometimes shitler thinks i'm hard enough to deal with so me X3 probably seems like some sort of nightmare to him.

and really i'm sorry that this post ended up being about all of this nonsense.
and it really only ended up being about this because i told shitler that i saw bill paxton's ball sac and he was like "what?  when?"  and then i wanted to be like "i'll never tell" and make it seem like maybe i saw bill paxton's sac in a more risque situation but i rarely leave the house so shitler would see right through me and so obviously this bill paxton sac situation has been on my mind since monday morning.

anyway.  this is where i leave you.


p.s. here's a bearded bill paxton

p.p.s. now i just want to watch all things bill paxton (and not because i'm hoping for sac shots) but because spy kids and also twister and hello those are great movies.  ok for reals now bye.

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Tuesday, August 19

field sobriety testing is hard

it's sometimes weird being the oldest child.
mainly because you remember your younger siblings as being these tiny things (especially when you're a fair amount older than them) and then they go ahead and turn into adults and they're doing adult things like having jobs and serious relationships and it's just kind of overwhelming.  which is exactly the thing with my babiest brother.  a seven year age gap means i remember when my parents brought him home.  i remember when he had to get casts on both of his feet to correct his pigeon toe thing.  i remember him having to get that other surgery (that i won't mention here because lol).  i remember him bouncing in his bouncy chair.  and i remember him being this tiny little boy with a tiny little boy voice for my most of my life.

and now he's a six foot tall towering redwood of a man with the deepest voice like ever.  and he wears the deepest of V's and he shoots guns and he likes underground rap music (whatever that is) and it's so mind boggling.

and i think it's the deep, low voice that gets me.  like "hey bro - you didn't sound like that till you were like eighteen i swear."  and now he's going to be a police officer.  like in the academy and everything and it's just weird because in my mind he's still that tiny little six year old and i'm all "six year olds can't be cops."  but he's doing it and he does ride alongs (he sees me sometimes and waves and then tells me later i better watch it or he'll pull me over) and after the shit show that was my bachlorette party (which i'll get into some other time) he calmly let me know that the protocol for the type of out of control shit that went down is as follows: "first we ask you, then we tell you, then we make you."  and i was like "OMG DON'T ARREST ME, I DIDN'T BEHAVE LIKE A LUNATIC."  

but the point to all of this is that my brother is in the police academy.  and he has to take all sorts of classes and tests and administer other types of crap.  so imagine my surprise when my brother called me a few weeks ago and explained that he needed to complete his field sobriety testing and that they were each allowed to invite one person  and that it included me showing up, getting drunk, and then him performing field sobriety tests on me and that naturally he thought of me.  and then i couldn't decide if i was flattered or insulted.  but either way i graciously accepted.  and then he asked me what i wanted to drink and i was like "wait, what?
i get to pick?"  and he was like "ya."  and i was like "ok vodka please."  and then last tuesday shitler dropped me off at the local community college where i got checked in and settled in to drink my face off.

matthew had let me beforehand that each person was dosed at a different rate.  so there would be people that could be ghost faced wasted and people that only had a couple drinks and the point of the class and the pass/fail grade was based on whether each student, after performing the field sobriety tests, would choose to arrest you if they happened to have pulled you over when you were driving.  so they tracked how many shots went into each drink.  and they kept track of how many shots you took (they, in fact, were quite encouraging of shot taking).

and let the record show that i felt incredibly spoiled drinking the vodka provided considering i usually imbibe in the type that comes in a plastic bottle.  and they encouraged you to play drinking games and bar dice and participate in any and all normal things you do when drinking.

and so we drank from 5PM-7PM.  and then they promptly cut us off, let us sit for a bit, and then groups of soon to be officers filed in and the field sobriety testing commenced.  the seasoned officers teaching the class breathalyzed you and the students had at you.  and it was intense.  and slightly intimating and also kind of hard.  because they did the thing with their finger and your eyes.  and you had to follow the direction their finger went with just your eyes and sober i think that's hard enough let alone how distracted you get when you've had any amount of cocktail.  but seriously the eyes following the finger thing is difficult.  TRUST ME.

and then they explain to you that you're going to walk, hands at your sides, exactly nine steps one foot in front of the other, heel to toe and then you will pivot and do the exact same thing back and that you will count each of your steps outloud.  and they ask you how many steps you'll be walking and sometimes you kind of blank and you think to yourself "they totally just told me how many steps and i can't remember; this is embarrassing."  and then the entire time you're doing it you find your arms migrating from your side in order to maintain balance and then they bark at you "HANDS AT YOUR SIDE."  and you're like "shit this is really hard."  and then they tell you it's the last one.  and that one includes standing on one foot, with your hands at your side, and counting "one one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, etc." until you can't do it anymore and then you almost kind of topple over.  but then they tell you to do it again.  and you do and once again you find your hands moving up to help you balance and they instruct you again that "your hands need to remain at your sides ma'am."  
and they confer and take notes while you just stand there sometimes thinking you totally nailed it.  and what's even more fun is that there are like thirty students divided up into groups of three and they have to field sobriety test all eight drunkards in attendance so you end up doing all three tests like ten different times.  and since you're doing the tests so frequently you totally think to yourself "i'm totally going to ace it this next time."  but you don't.  because you're drunk.

and then it's over.  and you're exhausted.  and you realize that perhaps there were times that, no you weren't the level of drunk you currently are, but you certainly had no business driving no matter what.  and trust me this isn't some sort of endorsement or lecture but sweet lord i had no idea before this just how intense any of those tests were.  and although it was a total blast to be able to participate - the reality is that too many people drink and drive.  and too many people always says "two drinks and i'm totally fine."  but the officers let us know that it's usually just those two drinks that put you over the legal limit.  and then you're in a whole heap of trouble.  so i'm going to stick with drinking in the comfort of my own home.  or at least bars within reasonable walking distance.

and in case you were wondering my brother would have arrested me.
and he would have been right in doing so.  because i blew a .221
so don't drink and drive.  that shit is bananas.

and go on with your bad self matthew.  you'll be the most adorable police officer ever.
even though, in my mind, you're still basically a toddler.
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Wednesday, August 6

soul crushers

one time i watched a bit from daniel tosh wherein he asked an audience "how many of you have never waited a table in your life?"  and a bunch of people cheered.  and daniel responded with something like "you people are assholes" and "everyone should wait tables at least once in their life.  then they'll realize that their side of ranch dressing isn't that fucking important."  and i was all "CAN I GET AN AMEN."  and for the most part, if you're a server, you're either good at it or you're not.  and it's almost always a server usually making just stupid, easy money for the amount of time you have to work.  but the little amount of time you have to work is often evenly balanced out with the ratio of dickbag customers to nice, normal customers.  and such is the life of a server.

because this last friday i had an epiphany.  like the kind of epiphany where i'm like "if i lose my shit at this customer and get fired will i really be all that upset about it?"  because this woman was the worst type of customer.  the customer that had been given a gift card to the restaurant, absolutely did not want to the at the restaurant, and had no qualms letting you know that she didn't want to be at the restaurant.  

i'll set the scene for you.  the woman is sat in my section.  i greet her and her husband.  she shivers and asks me why it's so cold.  i explain that the restaurant is littered with vents for both the air conditioning in the summer and the heat in the winter so it can be difficult to find a table not under a vent but that i would be glad to seat her at a different table if she would like.  she would like that.  so i scoop up all of her shit and move her.  turns out she thinks it's cold at that table and nastily declares "I WON'T BE UNCOMFORTABLY COLD WHILE I'M EATING" and i was all sugary sweet with my "of course you shouldn't be.  let's find you another table."
so i point out a third table in a section that isn't my own and recommend that we try that one (considering it's the only actual empty table in the place so she's SOL if she doesn't like that one either).  she refuses to move a third time without being guaranteed a warmer temperature so she sends her husband to test it out.  the husband returns and declares that "it is significantly warmer in that other room, dear."  she seems less than impressed but decides that she'll move again.  so i gather up all their shit and move them to a different table.  for the third time.  it's then she declares that they've never been to this restaurant before and the line of questions i endure for the next twenty minutes can only be likened to the spanish inquisition (or so i can imagine).  the couple had never had sushi before.  so i painstakingly explained the process in which the sushi rolls were made.  that there was seaweed paper, and then rice, and then a plethora of ingredients followed depending on the roll that you selected.  and that yes - some had components that were cooked.  that yes - tempura meant it was cooked.  and that yes - some rolls contained imitation crab meat (she was not pleased about this).  and that no - masago was not cheese, but fish eggs.  it was after this highly in depth interrogation that i tried to discreetly direct her to our rice and noodle options.  like a nice chicken fried rice or perhaps our delicious, and extremely popular, sesame shrimp.  but she wasn't having it and snaps at me that she needs more time to decide, because she then mutters under breath to her husband that, "this place is confusing, why did we come here, there are too many options, i don't think i like this place, we shouldn't have come here, etc. etc. etc. (i added the etc.  she didn't actually say etc. etc. etc.)."  and it was at the moment where i had to all but literally bite my tongue because the next thing out of my mouth was going to be "WHY THE FUCK DID YOU COME HERE YOU MISERABLE TWAT?"  but i refrained.  and sucked it up and made do with the constant eye rolls and the snippy little comments and i left her alone to decide on whatever the fuck she was going to end up hating later.  and when i came back she was still fixated on the sushi rolls and she was not about to be dissuaded.  and then she selected my least favorite roll on the menu.  and i died a little inside (and later, when i was telling shitler the story, he asked why i didn't suggest a different roll.  and i was like "i'll be damned if i end up responsible for suggesting a sushi roll that she ends up ordering and not liking because then that shit is on me and she clearly hates the world enough as is and i would rather not give her any more ammo).  and then i carefully repeated "ok then the sushi roll for you, ma'am?"  and she replied with "i guess."  and i quickly retreated back to the kitchen before she could complain about something else.

and at this point in the night, if i could give you a visual of what i probably looked like, it would be this.

 photo tumblr_ma4d44oPlz1qgmv4ao1_500_zpsf9b99db0.gif

so i brought her the sushi roll she ordered.  and she looked beyond dumbfounded and also pissed.  and she poked it.  like aggressively.  and said "this is what i ordered?"  and i said
"yes.  it is what you ordered.  i repeated it back to you, remember?"  and she says "i guess."  and then continues poking it.  i politely let them know that i will be back to check on them.  i wait a few beats and make my way back to the table that is literally hell on earth and ask them how everything is tasting.  she pokes her sushi roll again and at this point has started dismantling the poor roll.  she asks "where is the crab?"  and i point it out; that "it's inside the roll, ma'am."  and then she declares that she "doesn't think she likes this avocado."  and i asked "like you don't like avocado in general?"  and she says "no.  i love avocado.  but i don't like this avocado."
and i say "oh.  i'm sorry."  and then says "there's too much rice."  and then i have to carefully remind her that i explained to her how the sushi rolls were made and that the rice helps hold everything together.  and she continued to mash her sushi roll, picking out the crab, and asking why we didn't remove the sushi paper.  she continued on with her rampage of destruction until the poor sushi roll looked something like this:

and then she wrinkled her nose, rolled her eyes, and says "i thought i was getting egg rolls."
and i took a giant deep breath and carefully back tracked my way to the kitchen before i said something that was sure to get me fired.  because it was in that moment where i weighed out the options and the jumbled thoughts in my brain were like "i don't need the money.  the extra money is always nice for buying treasures but i don't need-need it.  plus i've never been fired for.  i wonder what that's liked.  it can't be that bad.  this woman is totally worth getting fired over."  and then, as if everyone i worked with didn't think i was nuttier than a squirrel turd, i reacted similar to this:

 photo waiting-kitchen-scene-o_zpsb7eb2ca5.gif

because here's the thing.  if you're going to be miserable, and in general a terrible human being, can you at least stay home?  crowds of people and strangers put me on edge enough when they're at least half-way nice.  but when you behave like you're suffering me water-boarding you is where i tend to draw the line.  and furthermore - if you so hated everything about your general dining experience here then i'm not sure why you insisted on ordering the turtle cheesecake and then in a very depressed manner tell me "it's fine."  

dear woman who is disappointed in literally everything,

if cheesecake is simply "fine" then there is no hope for you.

fuck you very much,

mercifully they left after eating their mediocre cheesecake.  and i had to tell my manager that that table had crushed my soul.  and i told him that he either had to let me go without doing any sidework or i wasn't showing up for my shift at all the following night.  mercifully he let me leave.  same manager i talked about here.  so bless his soul.

and to the person that bought that woman a gift card to my restaurant.  
next time - get her an arch card.  hell - i'll even pay for it.
p.s. i wrote another post about waiter-ing.  you can read it here.
p.s. i can't get out of work this weekend.  here's to hoping that lady doesn't decide to come back.
or anyone like her.
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