New Job & Microwaveable Habits

Yesterday was my first day of work!

Let me start by saying I haven't slept since 6pm yesterday evening. I have a serious problem sleeping. John hated that all this semester, because it makes me a terrible bed buddy. But it’s true. So in the summer, my day is really two days. I sleep for 12 hrs and am awake for 24 hrs. I went to work this morning for the first time on no sleep, and with only coffee for breakfast. Worst decision of late.

Not because I was tired and about to crash, no, I could hold my own, baby. But there was cooking breakfast EVERYWHERE and it smelled so good and was complete torture. Also, I was duo-trained with another chick, an 18-year-old BRIGHTLY blonde haired, SUPER blue eyed HVCC student with tons of clumpy mascara named Ciana. I liked her a lot. But she didn't have breakfast either, and we starved and moaned about being hungry together.

And then my manager came along to give us paperwork to fill out. My manager, Jessica, has this insanely red hair. I could so visualize my life right then, the blonde, the brunette, and a redhead, and almost hear the porno music pounding in the background.

“If you both really want this job, you’re going to have to do me a little favor…”

bow chicka wow wow

No really, it was friendly girl chatter. Jessica brought us to the back room where Ciana and I watched these horribly corny but produced in 2009 DVDs on service, cleaning, ice cream, and fire safety. Ciana and I just cracked up at the little kids trying to remember their script, “It’s my…uh…birthday!”

Jess also had the really exciting news that all of the tips we make are totally ours, none of that namby-pamby tip pooling. This is non-equality in the work place of which I absolutely approve and was so relieved to hear. If one waitress gets $100 a night and another one gets $50, Waitress #2 can suck it and start being a better waitress.

Then, Ciana and I took the official tour. We saw the backroom with all the candy, the fridge, the freezer, the cleaning supplies, the COFFEE MAKER named Ralph, the salad bar, the fryer, the cook (he was making buffalo wings and Ciana and I nearly died), the registers, and the ice cream fountain. Dude, Friendly’s has like fifty different ice cream flavors in their fountain. I worked at Cold Stone and they seriously had sixteen, tops. SWEET DEAL.

I’m scheduled to work on Saturday, though, which, if you’ve been keeping up with your East Coast news coverage, is the annual Free Ice Cream Day. Jessica was like, “You and I are gonna have a fun day.” Noon-5p.m. Free Ice Cream. She said I won’t have to scoop though, that I’ll be out there with her talking to kids in the lines. That’s really awesome, I like talking to kids, especially for $9/hr., bitches! Training wages were surprisingly good. People kept warning me about waitressing pay and the bad economy, I was freaking out. Dude, what’s the worry?

So far, so good. I love my job. Check back on that fact in a month.

But that food, oh my god. I better get seriously great buffalo wings on my breaks or I'm not gonna make it there.

I’m in my kitchen typing this right now and my leg is on the counter because I'm making toast.

I should explain that better.

I have this thing where sometimes I feel badly about my body. Which is normal and stupid but normal and regular. It's such a mean commentary in my head though, when this happens.

Hey, Failure, why the hell aren’t your tits as big as everyone else’s?

Fix your tummy.

You are a mess.

Grow, tits, GROW.

At the beginning of the summer, I started a really weird thing whenever I go down to the kitchen and heat up something to eat, I do some ridiculous yoga position until it's done. I do a backbend down the fridge or one of those keep your leg at a 90 degree angle to tone your abs until the toast is done toasting or the popcorn popped in the microwave. So I would just hold this position, feel the burn, and, in my head, it balances out the crap I plan to eat seconds later. It’s ridiculous and not a real workout regimen but it’s what I do, and so my mom comes into the kitchen when I’m, like, on the floor in a pseudo-split while my coffee is brewing and she’s like wtf are you doing?! Try explaining that shit to your mother.

"Oh, nothing."

She always thinks I'm doing something outrageously horrible to myself. Today, though, I pushed my toast too far into the toaster that it got stuck in the toaster wiring so I waited for it to cool down and then stuck my hand into the toaster, trying to pull it out. My mom came in just then and thought I was trying to burn myself. She absolutely freaked, but I was just trying to get the bread out.