Things that are dead to me: A not so much surviving anymore story.

1. All people that have come into the restaurant this week and demanded a "fill in the blank with the latest food trend" meal. Go. Die.
2. The woman who pulled into the parking spot in front of me so I couldn't pull through. BITCH, I AM TOO TIRED TO BACK UP.
3. Myself for volunteering to pick up sanitizer for work on the way home. Which turned into three trips. 
4. Anything that is not wine or pajama pants.
5. Every publication that decided to print copy on us during restaurant week. Thanks, giant centerfold in local paper, column in other local paper, review on blog, and Traveler magazine. The accolades are bad ass...next week. This week, you are dead to me.
6. The 6 million iPhone games that I play that won't stop notifying me. I will get to it. But, the constant vibrating pocket while getting my ass handed to me on a platter, not cool.
7. Pork Belly. Because we thought we could get through the week on 4. I ordered 10 more this morning. And will probably have to order 4 more on Friday. And they take like 4 hours of prep. That I have to do by myself because I created the recipe. So, once again, I may be dead to me.
8. The teenager dressed in all black who ran in front of my car in a poorly lit parking lot. Hey, ass hat, my car is bigger than you and your stupid fucking tank top with giant arm holes. I WIN, MOTHER FUCKER. 
9. Tall people. I am so sick of people stacking shit too high for me to reach the top, I could punch a baby. Don't worry, not your baby. Another baby. An evil baby. A TALL BABY.
10. My empty wine glass and it's inability to fill itself. 

31 hours in three days. I give, restaurant week. You win.