I work at a bar. I live with someone. I have friends. I love reading. That sums me up.
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Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Oh... she'll be coming around the mountain when she comes...
Today Hilary Clinton is going to speak to the citizens of Lafayette. She has a platform being built for her as I write this. Its not even a half a block away from where I'm currently working. She's going to speak on how Indiana needs jobs. Because she's speaking today and the street is blocked off. Therefore no one is coming into the Black Sparrow for lunch because they assume we are closed. And I don't get money when there is no one here so I'm out of a job for the day.
I'm considering getting a new job. Maybe move to Chumley's pub because that is where all the bad servers are, and I am obviously a bad server. I applied to Starbucks this morning, since they were hiring. I'm just so miserable right now, it was pointed out to me how badly I was doing my job last night. I don't think I'm cut out to be a server. I have no idea what I'm going to do on Saturday since I'm bartending. If I can't serve properly, I definitely won't be able to bartend. One person has made me feel a little better and that's Amanda, who is a server. She sent me an e-mail that said:
If he apologized, he probably feels bad about snapping and won't be mean about you. I totally understand how you feel, its the way things work at bars. Guys get away with being wasted or assholes and everyone thinks its funny, but if you're ever shitty to someone everyone dislikes for a good reason, or lag a little then you're the bitch who won't/can't do her job. I would bet you still have a job, he doesn't seem like he's a huge prick.
I hope she is right. Up until last night I was really happy with serving/bartending.
Last night there was a discussion about how we all have a little Obsessive Compulsive Disorder in us. LeggyBlonde said that sometimes she counts her steps without even realizing it. A bar regular said that he refuses to step on cracks in side walks. A local lawyer said that she counted her M&Ms and ate them in a particular fashion. Everyone agreed that they did the same with their M&Ms.
Is there anyone who just grabs a handful of M&Ms and eats them or do we all refuse to eat them as a singular candy?
I think sometimes that our actions translate into who we are in the dating world. My friend Cyra in the 11th grade would only date men who were taller than her and had dark hair. How can you exclude all short red and blonde men without even knowing them? She, after seeing the movie Wedding Planner, would only eat the dark M&Ms out of the package. I like to eat M&Ms by twos and in color order from my least favorite color to the best. There are exceptions to those rules, like say I had three red M&Ms, I would skip the "by two" rule and eat all three at once. My dating life has been a regular Noah's ark. I have dated two Daniels, two Jasons, and three Matts. One of those Matts real name was Joe. So in reality, I've dated two Joes as well. I also dated a Jamison, but another one of the Matts I dated had a middle name of Jamison. The only odd one, I've only dated one Nishant, but sometimes you only get one color M&M in a package. At least, I'm still saving the best for last?
Maybe I should stop eating them by twos and enjoy life (and the package of M&Ms) as a whole.
*would that make gay men "dicks" and straight men "pussies"?
Mr. Lust lives next to Project Mayhem. Yesterday he and I watched an army of 10 make the back and front yard next door look pretty. One was mowing, one was tilling, one was planting .. something, one was building a compost box, one was painting, one was trimming trees, one was fixing a car, one was digging.. something, one was taking down an old play set, and one was overseeing everything and doing a little of everything.
It was kind of creepy.
I'm not sure what they are growing and I have no idea why or how 10 people live in that house. The house is old and decrepit and looks like no one could live in it, let alone, ten. Plus, the main leader is actually an old friend of Matt's. Kind of weird. I've heard many stories about him and how he likes to start things... like he held a fasting on campus for third world countries that turned into a somewhat violent protest, making that house even more like Project Mayhem.
Maybe people shouldn't take movies so seriously... if I see people fighting in the back yard, I'm calling the cops.
If they don't come, then it will be a real life Fight Club story.
I use to be a ski instructor way back in the day. Our name tags read: Ski School {Name}. I made the comment that it sounded like a porn title. I was 16 at the time and I think I caught a lot of people off guard with that comment. For weeks we'd giggle when someone would look at our name tag.
Now I'm Bartender QSW.
In an exciting minute I went from doing one or two bartending shifts on a Sunday (dead time) evening, to bartending on a Saturday (crazy busy) night. A little bit of that "whoa" feeling you get when you drop down that first hill on a rollcoaster.
Yet, thrilling all the same.
Apparently, my boss feels I'm ready. I'll be working right along side him as well. Luckily, LeggyBlonde will be working behind the bar with me and I'll have someone to say, "It's ok that this is the 19th glass you've broken, I'm sure Magic has still broken more than you, just maybe not in the same night. At least, thats what I believe she will say.
In other news I got my hair cut.
I went shorter than usual and I think it turned out amazing. Phillip the hair dresser is one of the most amazing hair styliest I've ever met. I have volume to my hair. He doesn't use a razor to cut it. He doesn't make my scalp burn. And at the end of the hair cut, he said, "You could probably just use this one product to make your hair look really good."
One product.
Not fifteen.
And he was right.
That stuff is amazing. So little is used each time as well. I love Aveda. I love Phillip. I love my hair.
Today, I realize how satisfied I was with my Sparrow job, and how dissatisfied with my other job.
I think I need a new day job.
So as I was telling this to Mr. Lust I explained that while I was good at being a waitress, I didn't really think of it as a long term job... but now with my other job being dickheads, it was my main job, and that made me scared.
Mr. Lust: Well, you're so beautiful you could be a waitress. QSW: I am. Mr. Lust: You're so beautiful you could be an air hostess. QSW: I would think that that would piss you off if I was gone for weeks at a time. Mr. Lust: You could be a part-time model. QSW: Jesus Christ. Mr. Lust: Lets go to my house we could feel each other up on the couch, oh no, I don't mind taking it slow oh oh, no oh oh QSW: You can stop singing. Mr. Lust: Cause you're so beautiful, you could be a tree. QSW: I'm leaving.
While it wasn't helpful for finding a job, it was humorous.
It is human nature to close the door when they are going to the bathroom. It doesn't matter if they are alone. It doesn't matter if its two in the morning and everyone is asleep. It doesn't matter if you've been married for 30 years and have seen your significant other naked 1,000's of times and they are the only one that could possibly see you. You just close the door.
Mr. Lust's master room's bath has no door. Not only that. The whole bathroom is carpeted. It kind of freaks me out every time I go to the bathroom.
Some people I know are ok with peeing or whatever in front of their friends. I'm not. Some girls I know go to the bathroom in three's or four's. I have always preferred one's.
Just now, it's 1:30am in the morning, and I went all the way downstairs just so I could go to the bathroom before sleeping for the night. Because the downstairs bathroom has a door. The downstairs bathroom is the size of a closet, but that doesn't matter, it has a door.
And that's all I have to say about that. (Forrest Gump)
For some reason, "myspace.com" has become the "high school reunion for QSW." I added one friend who I actually was friends with in high school and suddenly everyone from my graduating class is adding me left and right.
Let me just say, I had 3 friends in high school. 2 of those "friends" weren't more than people I ate lunch with, 1 of those friends was the only person I confided in and talked to outside of school. I hated most of the people I went to high school with. I was always the person saying "I want to get the fuck out of this town" while the rest of them were saying "I can't wait to get married and have babies."
It fucked with my head after awhile.
Especially since my very first boyfriend( at 16), actually was married (I had no idea) with a kid (I did know that). He was 19. He brutally raped me in the back seat of my own car (sorry to be frank, it happened almost a decade ago). Later he brutally raped another girl (and tried to kill her) who was smart enough to get away and drive herself to the hospital for a rape test, then called the police who took pictures of the bruises all over her body, and then she prosecuted him.
Meanwhile my second boyfriend (at 18) I found cheating on me. I broke up with him and a week later he got high/drunk and drove himself and his new girlfriend off of a small cliff. She died, he lived. He got charged with manslaughter. So while most of my high school were getting married and starting families, my only two ex-boyfriends were being put into jail. If that doesn't fuck with your head, I don't know what will.
This is turning into some kind of a pity post, and I'm sorry, I'm only trying to make a point.What is the point?Good point.
So back to the original subject matter of this post. I spent today looking at 10 - 12 myspace.com profiles. All of them were the "popular" girls and boys of my high school graduating class. All of them were either married or divorced. All but one had kids. 6 of the profiles I looked at were pregnant women. ALL OF THEM WERE FAT. Seriously, I'm in a size two and I eat sugar as part of my every day diet. How do these people get so fat? Also, I work in a bar and I drink beer almost every shift I work. How in the world did these people get fat? These people were the slim, perfect-looking cheerleaders and basketball starters of my high school. They put me down when they found out about my ex-boyfriends. They made fun of me when I had a zit. They thought I was so odd when I said I didn't want to get married. They did mean things to me, they said mean things, they wanted to hurt me. Now, I realize why. I don't want to sound like I have a big ego, but what the heck, they were jealous of me. I'm free in ways that they never could be.
I remember when I got my acceptance letter to Purdue and I ran to tell Cyra (my only true friend) who was with some other girls. A popular girl Jennifer, scoffed at me. "You? You got into Purdue? What are you a lesbian?" I'm not quite sure how homosexuality and getting a degree have to do with each other, but I'm pretty sure now it was jealously that prompted that statement. Jennifer is now 50 pounds overweight and has two little boys from two different daddies. (pictured off to the left, she use to be the same size as me)
I remember when I had been dating my second boyfriend for a year (before I found out about the cheating) and a popular girl Carmen asked if I was going to get married to him. I answered no, because I didn't want to get married before the age of 25 (which is scary now being 25) and she looked at me as if I suddenly broke out with a weird fungus all over my face. "You don't want to get married?" she asked. "No, I don't, I'm going to college in the fall and I don't want to be with a husband during that time." She replied, "Oh my god, you won't even make it a year at Purdue before you quit, you might as well marry him so you don't lose him." I guess smart girls are scary to men, and she was worried that I'd be alone the rest of my life after I got that year of extra schooling. She gained only a little weight but is divorced from her second husband. (pictured to the left, she use to not have the weird side-face thingy)
These are only two examples of some of the people from then until now. I think I might go to my 10 year high school reunion just to spit in their faces.
Actually, come to think of it, I doubt I'll even get an invitation.
Amanda: Oh my gosh, sometime I want to come over here when it's raining and sit on the front porch and watch virgin suicides. QSW: Virgin suicides? Amanda: Yea, its a movie. QSW: oh. Amanda: what? QSW: I thought for some reason when it rains we have virgins commiting suicide on our front lawn and you wanted to come over to our porch and watch them. ID & Amanda: What?! (giggling laughter for 6 minutes) QSW: (mumbles) well that's a relief. ID: What did you say? QSW: Meow. ID: Did you just meow? Amanda: No she didn't... meow. ID: What? (uncontrolled laughter for 8 minutes) Amanda: can we put on some oldies while the cookies are visiting the oven? ID: visiting? QSW: Before they GET IN MY BELLY! (uncontrolled laughter for 10 minutes)
I know people talk about me. It's not because someone told me that.... it's because of intuition. I know how my friends talk about other people, and I can only imagine how they talk about me. In turn, I talk about them, and so on and so forth. It doesn't make me mad or unhappy, it's just a fact of life. If you do something worth talking about... then people will talk about it. Good or bad. Bad or good. And always, especially after drinking alcohol.
One of the people I work with whom I believe to talk about me a lot (and not in a good way) is the owner of the pub (we will call him "TO" for now or "The Owner"). Part of me thinks that he purposely hired on NI (as door man, did I make a post about this?) just for entertainment purposes so that he could hear the stories later about how I was upset that NI was behind the server station, and how NI did this... etc. Respect remains for TO on how he can run a business and pick out art, but it lacks in the humanity category.
Last night I was in a lot of pain. My foot swelled up and had a huge bruise on the bottom of it. Monday's are usually slow, so it wasn't bad waitressing, but by hour 4, I was starting to ache again (meds wearing off I suppose). Mr. Lust offered to come in and show emotional support, and I agreed. He came in at 10:30pm and I talked to him in between the times I was walking to tables. At 10:45pm TO walked in and after a few minutes, decided to introduce himself to Mr. Lust. I didn't say anything when TO said, "Wow, your girlfriend is bad at introducing you to people." I didn't introduce the two of them because TO would only use it as an opportunity for new material to make fun of. Since when I first met Mr. Lust I HATED him, I can't even imagine what TO would find to make fun of. Because of my hatred turning into like and then later love, I feel incredibly protective towards Mr. Lust, I knew TO wouldn't take the time to get to know him, and that would leave Mr Lust open to ridicule (I'm pretty sure he's already ridiculed him but he had no material to work from, just what people say about Mr. Lust). There was nothing I could do though. I had tables to wait on, and I had to leave the two of them alone together. I have no idea what was said, I have to just wait for someone to slip up (when they're drunk) and clue me in on what the joke of the week is. And someone ALWAYS slips up.
My apologies to the early morning penii below, plus, not having any vagina posted with it (to be fair, I tried, i could only find drunk pictures of Hermionie).
No more Harry Potter penis if you stop scrolling now.
I realized I was old when I was thinking of telling some youngsters "Get up! Put on some bigger pants, get a job, join the army!"
A regular at the Black Sparrow said that to me when I was bartender the other day. He's only 30, and far from old. He doesn't even have kids or a wife yet. But today, I understood what he meant.
Mr. Lust and I took the day off together. I called into my job and he called into his job on Wednesday and the plan was to do yard work all day on Thursday. Typical to Murphy's Law, it rained all day. We got up at 10, went downstairs made some coffee, walked out to his sunroom and admired... the wetness. There had to be a change of plans. We briefly talked about going into work for half days since our yardwork wouldn't be happening, then we decided to buy things instead. We spend 409.00 dollars at Menards. We got the following: 1 lawn mower 2 rose plants 1 shovel 2 pairs of gloves 1 bag of soil 1 bag of fertilizer 1 hedge trimmer 1 extension cord and 2 pots
Then we came back, and decided that a home cooked dinner would be good. Away we went to the store again. We bought: 1 whole chicken 1 bag of salad 1 tub of cottage cheese 1 bag of brown sugar 1 bag of flour 1 bottle of wine 6 pack of beer 1 bag of chocolate chips 1 dozen eggs
3 hours later Mr. Lust and I were sitting in front of a home cooked chicken dinner with salad and cottage cheese and home made brownies for dessert. We had rented the 5th Harry Potter movie and shared beer/wine over it and then called it an early night.
We ignored the calls to go to the "Neon Cactus" campus' premier dance club where people dance like they are having sex on the dance floor and bartenders give you 32 oz of the worst alcohol you will ever drink.
Here is a present for the females on this blog: This is what I looked up after watching the Harry Potter movie.
I am writing you this letter to inform you that tipping 4 dollars on a 44 dollar tab is not acceptable. Especially when you state, prior to tipping, that you normally tip one dollar per drink. I served you 8 drinks. I also don't appreciate you telling me how you tip less in the winter and more in the summer, does the service lack in the winter? Is it not summer yet? What about spring and fall? Apparently there are seasons where you barely tip at all. Your daughter was lovely though. She tipped me 1.25 per beer and when she ordered shots she tipped me 6 dollars on a 30 dollar shot tab. Plus, she bought me a shot as well. Your daughter is amazing, I'm not sure how she came from you. My friend once said, "I pay for everything with cash when I get it, and then I don't tip until the end of the night. I like to just leave a stack cash on the table when I leave." I had to knock him in the head because obviously he wasn't thinking clearly. After he got up from the ground, he promised me he'd tip 20% every time he got a drink or he'd start a tab and pay AND tip at the end of the night. May I do that to you? I think it might clear your head and make you understand how the world works according to Quietly Sipping Wine. At least, that's what I hear my punching in the head does for people. Call it a religious experience you'll never forget. Please see me soon at the bar and let me know what you think. Sincerely, Quietly Sipping Wine
Ps. You have a lazy eye that always seems to be looking at my right breast. It creeps me out. Please, my punch can fix that too.
One of the biggest fucktards (NI) I know came into the bar when I was working. I was almost alone at this bar. Fergus was in the back cooking, and then there was me. That's it. This is the same guy who hit on me and told me he "wanted to put his semen inside me." (If you've been following this blog, then you already know) He and his buddy walked in, and I almost walked out. Shit. They behaved. For the most part. Every time NI went to the bathroom D-bag would say "Sorry about the other night, we were so drunk."
"Dude, my problem, strangely, is not with you, stop talking to me!" (what I wanted to scream).I had a lot of those "If only I could say what I'm thinking..." moments yesterday.
So I sat there, suffered their small talk, wondered if they'd leave soon... when in walks...
... NI's girlfriend.
haha. haha. haha. haha.
I got such sweet pleasure of hearing her say "Um, don't you think you've had enough beer?" or "Seriously, you are in here every day! Try drinking at home!" He kept glancing at me. Seriously. What? "STOP LOOKING AT ME ASSHOLE! I AM GLAD SHE'S HERE AND GIVING YOU A HARD TIME!" (another one of those moments)
On the third glance I walked over to the Ipod, and played Nina Simone's Sinnerman. I sang the lyrics to myself and it made me feel so much better.
"Sinnerman where you gunna run to Sinnerman where you gunna run to Where you gunna run to All on that day
Well I run to the rock Please hide me I run to the rock Please hide me I run to the rock Please hide me lord All on that day
Well the rock cried out I cant hide you the rock cried out I cant hide you the rock cried out I aint gunna hide you god All on that day
I said rock whats a matter with you rock Dont you see I need you rock Dont let down All on that day"
So I wrote a post about how I was pregnant. Ruby commented for the first time here and then I decided not to post it after all. One: It was just an April Fool's joke. Two: In case someone from my work place came here and took it seriously, I'd be in trouble because of, Three: I work in a bar and I want to drink there tonight, and if they don't serve me because I'm pregnant (or worse a reverse April Fool's joke) then I'll be very upset.
So I decided it wasn't that funny, in fact, its going to be saved for a Halloween joke instead.
Last night I went to Insomnia cookies and bought a dozen. They were so good that I'm fighting all urges to go back today and buy another dozen. Magic and I ate probably 10 of them just between the two of us and we had a little help from the bar customers and bar regulars.*
I was cut (or asked to be cut) at 9:30 because the bar was so dead. I left at 10:30 and it had picked up 2 customers. Tips equaled: 15 dollars.
One of the bright moments was Amanda coming in to talk to me. She first apologized for ditching me Saturday night. "QSW, I'm so sorry for leaving you alone on Saturday!" "What?" "When I left you and didn't tell you I was leaving." "I left first." "You did?" (Magic laughed) "Yes, we hugged each other goodbye, you made me pinky swear that I'd move to Chicago with you and then you told me you love me." "Oh shit, I do love you though." (I laugh) "I love you too, and I'm not mad at you since you didn't ditch me!" "I almost went home with Eric." "What? (this is guy #2 who she liked but I didn't talk about)" "We made out." "Oh my, what happened?" "I said lets do it and he said no." "Really?" "Yea, he's friends with Aaron." "Oh."
Aaron is the boy that Amanda lives with and most people assume that she'll end up with him one day, even though while she was dating him she caught him with another woman in their apartment.
We chatted a bit longer before we had to go. We promised to meet up tonight and have a few drinks. I cannot wait. :)
*bar customers are people who come in once in a while. bar regulars are people we (as in the whole bar) know the names of and what they do, where they live, how they interact, etc. They usually come in AT LEAST once a week.
