Just another day working for the dolla dolla
Well, well, well, I think I have proved myself as throughly sucky at updating this thing on a regular basis... But let's face the facts, it's not really like any of you fucks care. I think it's just for my own ego- to know that I have some sort of mini "audience" that would give a shit about my daily ramblings, life obstacles, or embarrassing stories. Speaking of embarrassing, this weekend I went to that 5 dollar dnb party at Oseao and the following thing happened:
Hot guy to me "Hey your fucking beautiful"
Me casually walking down the stairs, "Oh yeah? What's your name?"
Then I fell down a few stairs. Not like, flat on my face fall, more like a tripped and stumbled and thought "This can't be the way I'm going to die." I think that thought at least about five times a day... If I'm in the work kitchen and I slip, if some creepy asshole comes to the park I jog at, or if I choke on an almond. "This... Can't... Be... The... Way... I... Die."
Work is going good, those fucking bastards might actually hire me full time since the fat guy, we'll just call him "Pudge," quit. I'm sure I had something to do with his quitting, but you know whatev'. If you can't figure out a register within two weeks then your ass doesn't deserve a job. Sometimes, when I'm pressing those colored buttons and taking people's orders, I think to myself "I can't believe they pay me 10 bucks and hour to do this." Except there's this one fucking ugly, trekky, long haired nerdy guy that comes in everyday who's a total prick to me. I'm going to find out where he works, come in and treat him like shit. It fucking pisses me off, listen here fuckers, I'm not your personal servant, I'm not ghetto, I'm not fucking poor, do not treat me like your fucking servant. Do I look like I have a black and white tux with a bowtie? Fuck no. The only thing I do is take your god damn order and then give you the fucking courtesy of asking how your god damn day was. And you know what? I don't even care how your day went, I just don't want to be that stereo-typical asshole you meet in the customer service business. No funny enough, I want to be the bright spot in your day, so give me the fucking courtesy of not being a fucking asshole or else I will fuck up your order. I mean it. Now I know why some people get their food spit on, it's because their fucking a-holes. I can't even imagin how much of someone else's saliva I've eaten my life time because I've been such a loud mouthed little bitch. Probably a lot.
In other news I hungout with one of the exes this weekend. He called me at like 12:30 am to play me a song on his guitar (the guitar I forgot he played) and we ended up hanging out. I forgot like, how attractive he was. Really attractive. Whatever happens, happens though. Ashley and I move into our new house in approximately ten days. If anyone wants to give me a bed feel free too. I could really use one. I joined a book club, which is super tight. Now when someone asks me what my hobbies are... I can say I'm in a book club. I enjoy being the ultimate dork.
well thats all for now, if some other god awful embarrassing thing happens... like if I zip my work shirt into my pants (again) or something I'll keep you updated
Hot guy to me "Hey your fucking beautiful"
Me casually walking down the stairs, "Oh yeah? What's your name?"
Then I fell down a few stairs. Not like, flat on my face fall, more like a tripped and stumbled and thought "This can't be the way I'm going to die." I think that thought at least about five times a day... If I'm in the work kitchen and I slip, if some creepy asshole comes to the park I jog at, or if I choke on an almond. "This... Can't... Be... The... Way... I... Die."
Work is going good, those fucking bastards might actually hire me full time since the fat guy, we'll just call him "Pudge," quit. I'm sure I had something to do with his quitting, but you know whatev'. If you can't figure out a register within two weeks then your ass doesn't deserve a job. Sometimes, when I'm pressing those colored buttons and taking people's orders, I think to myself "I can't believe they pay me 10 bucks and hour to do this." Except there's this one fucking ugly, trekky, long haired nerdy guy that comes in everyday who's a total prick to me. I'm going to find out where he works, come in and treat him like shit. It fucking pisses me off, listen here fuckers, I'm not your personal servant, I'm not ghetto, I'm not fucking poor, do not treat me like your fucking servant. Do I look like I have a black and white tux with a bowtie? Fuck no. The only thing I do is take your god damn order and then give you the fucking courtesy of asking how your god damn day was. And you know what? I don't even care how your day went, I just don't want to be that stereo-typical asshole you meet in the customer service business. No funny enough, I want to be the bright spot in your day, so give me the fucking courtesy of not being a fucking asshole or else I will fuck up your order. I mean it. Now I know why some people get their food spit on, it's because their fucking a-holes. I can't even imagin how much of someone else's saliva I've eaten my life time because I've been such a loud mouthed little bitch. Probably a lot.
In other news I hungout with one of the exes this weekend. He called me at like 12:30 am to play me a song on his guitar (the guitar I forgot he played) and we ended up hanging out. I forgot like, how attractive he was. Really attractive. Whatever happens, happens though. Ashley and I move into our new house in approximately ten days. If anyone wants to give me a bed feel free too. I could really use one. I joined a book club, which is super tight. Now when someone asks me what my hobbies are... I can say I'm in a book club. I enjoy being the ultimate dork.
well thats all for now, if some other god awful embarrassing thing happens... like if I zip my work shirt into my pants (again) or something I'll keep you updated