Thursday, February 25, 2010

Suddenly, I see my future...

Crisis averted. The week from hell is over. I panicked a little bit, admittedly. It just seems like sometimes I am sitting around on my couch twiddling my thumbs and the very next day a giant avalanche of shit falls from the sky. Can someone please tell the universe to space this shit out a bit? Because, really, it would help out a lot.

I got a 98% in my math class, which is not saying much. At one point, we were literally just counting votes. Counting, people, counting. I played bejeweled on my phone through that entire class. I never paid attention. Not once.

I killed my practicals and exam in kitchen, so I am fairly certain I got an A in that class. And the presentation that caused 4, 012 panic attacks? Tini made it his bitch. All I did was click through it (during the actual presentation) and he did all the talking and rocked it. I think it was by far the best one in our class. So, I panicked for nothing. You are all allowed to say I told you so and then scream WOULD YOU STOP FUCKING PANICKING ALL THE TIME at me. I deserve it.

On a totally unrelated note, my job is weird. Old people are weird. First of all, they are all devout republicans. This happened tonight:

Old Guy: Did you hear about that article in the paper that described what hell was like?
Old Lady: (giggling) No, what is it like?
Old Guy: A bunch of Democrats running the country. Oh, wait (hysterical laughter)

Insert me gritting my teeth and fake chuckling. Like, even if I wasn't a democrat, that joke would have been horrible. And they say things like "I don't even recognize America now that the blacks are running things." I know that they are harmless and if they were my age, they wouldn't feel that way. My grandparents say some really off color things too, they just don't know better and don't care to learn. But, I still cringe when I hear it.

Well, last night was happy hour. It was my first happy hour and, just wow. You know what is worse than sober old people? Drunk old people. One of my tables had me give them "just a little sip" like 14 times. By the end of the night, she had to be helped out of the dining room.

There is this one lady, though, that cracks me up EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. A lot of them have walkers, which I really think are just portable tables. They always have papers, mail, keys, or whatever on their little emergency seats. Except one resident. Every night, this little tiny lady with her bright red walker and four wine glasses strolls in. She was the first resident to remember my name and walks by and squeezes my arm every single night. She asks me how culinary school is and, if she is in my section, asks me what to order because "I know these things." I think we are kindred souls, because when I am 90 and living in a nursing home, you better believe that the wine will be flowing.

The best part of all? She always has a backup bottle in the basket under the seat. My kind of lady.

1 comment:

Bradshaw said...

The backup bottle!! That's amazing. I'd drink wine in a nursing home with you.

Also, fucking told you so. :P