tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30789588666019193632024-02-18T21:46:06.814-05:00Erratic<br>Your voice is like a tack hammer in the eyeErratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.comBlogger660125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-54267888657765492632015-06-27T21:31:00.001-04:002015-06-27T21:31:14.153-04:00#LoveWins<div style="text-align: justify;">
Lately, I have really just hated the world. School shootings, church shootings, people treating each other like total shit. It has just felt like I live in this little bubble where I am surrounded by like minded people and then the bubble burst and I realized the world was utter shit.</div>
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Then yesterday happened. I was at work and my phone was BLOWING THE FUCK UP in my pocket. I snuck into the office to make sure someone hadn't died and I saw it. </div>
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Gay marriage is legal in all fifty states. The supreme court did the exact opposite of what I expected. I honestly forgot it was even a thing until I saw my phone because I was just so sure it wouldn't pass.</div>
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I silently squeeled, put my phone away and then went about my day. </div>
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Cut to 8 hours later and I am home sitting on the couch reading facebook. I honestly sighed before I opened facebook because I was prepared for all of the backlash. I expected hate and anger and a lot of me hitting "unfriend," because I simply don't have time for hate, I don't care who you are.</div>
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And here is what I saw...</div>
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"When I came out at 16, the only thing my mom worried about was me not being able to have a "normal" life. Mom, I wish you were here to see this. History. Happiness. Equality"</div>
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"I waited with a group of people at (insert local gay bar) for the decision from the supreme court. When we saw the news, everyone hugged and kissed and I have never felt so happy or so free in my entire life. I will never forget what that felt like."</div>
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"Pride should have been this weekend instead of last because today we can actually be proud of our country."</div>
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"Guys! There has been a rainbow in the sky for an hour in North Carolina. The heavens approve of marriage equality day"</div>
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The hash tag #LoveWins was all over facebook. Nobody was saying anything negative, my feed was full of pure joy and happiness. </div>
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The white house was lit up by rainbow lights. </div>
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I have been crying for two days. Pure tears of joy. </div>
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I know there is a lot of bad out there, but fucking shit we needed this good. </div>
Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-35700014006947618942015-06-17T23:57:00.002-04:002015-06-17T23:57:48.636-04:00To kid or not to kid....<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have been meaning to talk about this for a while.....</div>
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Ugh.</div>
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A lot of the people that I follow have had problems conceiving children. If you have been reading long enough, you will understand why. If you haven't, well...read back through my archives or click on people who comment. I am feeling slightly lazy.</div>
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Other than protecting myself using condoms with new partners, I have not taken any kind of birth control in almost 6 years. I have taken zero protection in my last two relationships against pregnancy. The day I broke up with the boy, he thought I was telling him I was pregnant...</div>
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I read so many infertility blogs I don't really know how to talk about this. Because the thing is...I don't know if I want kids. I really, really don't know. So I sort of let the universe decide...and the universe has sort of said, um, no. Which I am ok with. On most levels, I am ok with. I don't want to go through fertility treatments or take any extreme measures to have a child. I am not saying there is anything wrong with that, I am just so undecided it feels silly to even pursue something like that. </div>
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I look at pictures of my friends and their kids and I just smile. I want THAT. I want the picture perfect moments, but I am just not sure I am willing to make the sacrifices that come along with being a parent. </div>
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Do not get me wrong....if I got pregnant, that child would be my universe and everything would change.</div>
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I guess this is just about that choice. About trying. About actively trying to get pregnant versus just having sex for the mere pleasure of it. </div>
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My mother is one of four, and she is the only one who had children. My aunts seem so....lost. They have these crazy hobbies and are constantly trying to find something to do. Needless to say, the women in my family aren't super maternal. I come from a long line of childless women. Maybe they struggled to have kids when they really wanted them? I don't know. It is certainly not something they would ever talk to me about. Another legacy of my mother's side of the family. </div>
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Man-pants doesn't want children. I know he would be on the same page as me if it happened....he would love that kid to death. But he certainly isn't hearing any kind of clock.</div>
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Nor am I for that matter. I just think about it often and wonder if I am making a mistake. On the flip side of that....it appears to be a mistake I wouldn't be able to fix anyway. </div>
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Is it weird to just throw caution to the wind and let the universe decide your future? </div>
Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-22597347479710341222015-06-17T02:49:00.001-04:002015-06-17T02:49:01.635-04:00Things that have happened this week<br />
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<li style="text-align: justify;">I am officially done with training! 8 weeks is a long time. My first solo close is on Thursday, I finally have full access to everything and I am beyond stoked. I am done being babysat and ready to just do my own thing.</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">One of my fellow sous chefs got arrested yesterday for domestic violence and assault. He can't afford bail. As selfish as this is, he basically paved the way for me to not have to relocate. There were talks of an hour commute or actually moving me to a new city. I am beyond stoked that he got arrested and I get to stay here. Also....what a piece of shit. He beat the shit out of his ex. I don't know the details of it, but based on the bail and charges, he put her in the hospital along with hurting one of his kids. Good riddance. I hope they fire him.</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">I learned that there was a location that the exec and sous chefs were cooking meth out of the tilt skillet! This cracks me up. It was in a mall! With security cameras. Idiots.</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">We got a kitten. Her name is Dr. Harlene Francis Quinzel. I call her Harley. Obviously man-pants named her. And if you don't get the reference, it is The Joker's psychiatrist turned girlfriend in the comic books. Naming her after an evil genius was very apt. She is a spitfire, but so sweet. THE PETS OUTNUMBER US. There may be a mutiny.</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">I finally found tattoo sleeves that I can almost stand. They are golf sleeves so that you can golf all day and not get sunburned. They are meant to breathe and I honestly forget they are there. Until I take them off and then it's just sweet relief where my arms can finally breathe again. </li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">I am the fucking shit on expo. I seriously feel like such a bad ass standing there just controlling the kitchen. I'm a good manager, for sure. But this job takes it to a whole new level. After tonight, the guys all said I did a great job and it felt great. I can do this. My insecurities need to shut the fuck up.</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">My mom bought plane tickets to come see me over July 4th weekend. I am so excited to see her, but terrified she is going to freak out about where I live. I am a city girl through and through now. I will never leave my 'hood. And THANK GOD they fixed up the building across the street so it is no longer boarded up. I just worry she is going to be uncomfortable staying here. And worried that she is going to worry about me. How do you explain to people that you WANT to live in the neighborhood with gun shots. OH! And the big firework celebration is the day she comes in, so let's just hope she can't tell the difference between fireworks and gunshots....there is going to be a lot of both.</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">My good friend and hairdresser came over to meet Harley. Most of my friends follow the "I'm too lazy to shut the bathroom door" policy. (It's down a hallway that it would be super weird for someone to randomly walk down.) Well, wily little Harley decided to run into the bathroom full speed ahead and JUMP IN THE TOILET. WHERE MY FRIEND PROCEEDED TO PEE ON HER. First bath left me with some battle wounds. WHAT CAT THIS?</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">A good friend of mine and neighbor had his cat jump in the toilet after he took a shit. So, I guess a lot of cats? But, seriously. Cats....do better.</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">I blogged! I totally don't have a working laptop anymore and work stupid weird hours. And a lot of my downtime is spent with man-pants because he also works super weird hours. And as much as I love you guys, quality time with him will kind of always trump blogging. </li>
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Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-55725314746808085232015-05-20T21:30:00.003-04:002015-05-20T21:30:27.979-04:00To Pray or Not to Pray<div style="text-align: justify;">
Tonight I worked an off-site catering event. </div>
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Ask any one who works in kitchens what the thing they hate the most about their job is. They will say when someone calls off and off-site catering. Some of them might bitch about the heat, but those people are idiots. Hello, sweat diet!</div>
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So, it's a party for 75 people. Salad, two entree options, bread and dessert. We don't have to bring anything other than food and set up for chafing dishes. Easy as shit.</div>
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Of course, two people didn't show up for their shifts and the prep on the restaurant side of things SUCKED SO MUCH ASS, but the guests thought it was flawless and were super happy. </div>
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Here's the thing...</div>
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And I am going to preface this with a minor statement...my beliefs are my own. As are all of yours. In no way shape or form am I saying anything here that is meant to be judgmental or against anybodies personal freedom of choice. I respect you all and hopefully that is mutual.</div>
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We got all the food out and one of the hosts asked us to come out in the dining room to join them in prayer. </div>
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Sigh. </div>
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I participated 100%. I didn't even make a face, despite really wanting to. I did what every decent, well-mannered human being would do. But I did not like it.</div>
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Is it just me, or is that moderately offensive? I would never ever ever ever ever ask someone to do something that was against their belief system. Especially total strangers who were working for me. Or at the very least, approached it as "we are about to pray, if you would like to join us." It was a request, not a courtesy. </div>
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I don't believe in God. My family is not on the same page. It is frequent that I sit down to meals with them and a prayer is said. The difference is that I choose to participate because it makes people I love happy. To have a total stranger require me to pray on the clock at a work function....I feel like it crosses a line. And it was a high school robotics club award ceremony. It certainly wasn't a bible study that was catered.</div>
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It was just really weird to me that they asked the wait staff and the chefs to participate. </div>
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And I know what everyone is thinking...it's nice that they included you. And I agree, to an extent. If it was presented as an option, it would be nice if they included us. But it wasn't. </div>
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This sort of circles around to something I am realizing more and more as an adult. I live in a bubble. I surround myself with like-minded people with similar morals and values. Some of them are religious, some aren't. But we are all generally on the same page when it comes to how we conduct our lives and how we treat people. </div>
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Then one day, WHAM. I encounter someone who does not fit in this bubble I have created and I find myself shocked that people exist outside of what I am used to. </div>
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Like I said, I went along with it and sort of shrugged my shoulders and moved on. </div>
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It just struck me as odd. What do you all think? Am I the minority in this opinion?</div>
<br />Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-80742442728854681952015-05-10T01:40:00.000-04:002015-05-10T01:40:36.901-04:00This may be the most random post I have ever written. <div style="text-align: justify;">
I have been sold. </div>
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I got into work on Friday and was told I was being loaned to another restaurant for Mother's Day Weekend. The company I work for is so freaking amazingly efficient that every single restaurant has identical menus, so once you are trained at one, you can work at any location. Down to the scheduling, paperwork, POS, everything. </div>
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I have never worked for a corporate restaurant, so it is distinctly possible this is pretty common. I have no idea. </div>
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I have also only been trained on one station: the pantry. Which is fancy restaurant talk for salads and desserts. I was supposed to start pizza tomorrow, but alas, I was sold. Like a common street drug. </div>
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And let me tell you something....I am pretty much worthless on the line. Of the 5 training sessions I am supposed to have at each station, my first one consisted of the person who was supposed to train me no call/no showing. The person who stayed to train me spoke zero English. My second day was also the same day they were training the no call person's replacement, so there were exactly 7 billion people on the station and I basically just gave up and helped out prep. Every other shift I was pulled into something else. So....let's just set the tone here.</div>
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I got there and waltzed in the kitchen like I knew what the fuck I was doing. Confidence! I have it. (I don't. Not yet) I was told to prep all morning. </div>
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Have you ever worked a prep shift? Or catering for that matter? It is basically standing in the same place all day with a cutting board, a knife and a food processor. And measuring shit. IT IS AWFUL. And extremely painful. My knees and lower back have been screaming since 3. </div>
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Also, prep is one of those things that you can only be good at if you are familiar with your surroundings. Not knowing where anything is adds SO MUCH time to every single prep project. So, I naturally felt like kind of an idiot the whole day. There was lots of "Chef, where are the spatulas?" "Chef, where are the measuring spoons?" "Chef, why for the love of God would you send someone who is barely in training to another store to help on the busiest weekend of the year?" </div>
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Maybe I didn't say that last part. Maybe I just thought it exactly 7 billion times.</div>
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Let me just say though, I do love that everyone calls me chef. God damn do I love it. </div>
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So, I am back there tomorrow working pantry and doing prep and hopefully will look like less of an idiot. </div>
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Am I the only person who is so insecure when they start a new job that they spend the entire time second guessing everything they do? And just assuming everyone hates you and thinks it was a mistake to hire you? Ugh. I can't wait for this time to pass. I am the same way in new relationships or new friendships. I never voice this, but I am so hard on myself it is ridiculous.</div>
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I digress.</div>
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So, tomorrow is Mother's Day and I am going to probably work a 14 hour day. The only shining light in this whole thing is the management team there. Mine is pretty seasoned at my store...people who have been with the company since it started, about 22 years ago. This management team was young! All around my age. The thought of being a GM for the company at 33....making six figures. Holy shit! And the Exec is a woman! And my age! And seriously, I could see us being friends. I love her so much. I kind of secretly want to get transferred to this store even though it is the slowest store in the district. My current store is in the top 5 busiest stores of the company...of 130 something stores. Vast difference. </div>
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Anyway, there wasn't really a point to this other than to say I am being pimped out by my job and I am very uncomfortable with it. I could probably have just posted THAT statement on Facebook, but there is a strict social media policy and since I have my job listed, I can't really say much about the goings on at work. So, I chose to ramble here. </div>
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Plus I miss being here. It's nice to post again. I am happy I am in a place where I am writing here again. </div>
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The downside of the new job and new hours is man-pants. I saw him tonight for about a half hour before he started falling asleep on the couch. I didn't see him at all yesterday. I probably will not see him tomorrow. He also got a new job (yay!) and starts Tuesday, so hopefully his hours will be more in tune with mine sooner than later. But as of right now, we barely see each other when we are used to seeing each other all the time. Our schedules were identical, we even car pooled to work. Needless to say, it's been an adjustment. </div>
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It's weird being with someone I want to spend all my time with. It's also worrisome that getting away from that quality time will affect our relationship. It's hard to make time for someone when you are so exhausted. But I know us and I know that we will. Despite us both getting jobs that require 55-60 hour work weeks. </div>
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Random ramblings over! Happy Mothers Day to all my mommy friends out there, whether past, present or future. </div>
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And if you do go out to eat, have a little patience and understanding. The service industry is getting it's ass handed to it this weekend. </div>
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<br />Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-62689409208401224432015-05-07T22:12:00.001-04:002015-05-07T22:12:33.856-04:00Politics and Strong Women and Not So Strong Women<div style="text-align: justify;">
I know this girl.</div>
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She is a writer of comic books. </div>
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She grew up in a very conservative household.</div>
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She is an avid feminist.</div>
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She has GORGEOUS tattoos of strong women.</div>
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We often happen into each other at the local watering hole and have the most intriguing, intellectual conversations that always leave me thinking for days. </div>
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She is strong.</div>
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She is brilliant.</div>
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She is everything I wish I was. </div>
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Isn't that weird? You meet a woman who you completely look up to and you are insanely jealous. </div>
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She posts poignant political things on Facebook.</div>
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I am equally as intelligent as she is. I just don't really take the time to do the research to have the knowledge that she does. And that makes me mad at myself for being so lazy. I used to follow politics. And to know a significant amount of information about local and national candidates. I used to care. I still do on a very, very basic level. I always vote. But I never know shit about who I am voting for. I typically just vote a straight democrat ticket. And that is SHAMEFUL. </div>
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It makes me mad that she has time to always know what is going on in our city. To know who the local candidates are and why you should vote for them/ not vote for them. It makes me mad that she puts me to shame when it comes to knowledge I once craved. </div>
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She often lectures me on things I say. Calling people pussies or vaginas. Saying I am bad at being a girl. And she is right. I often say things that are a detriment to my fellow woman. Because I am just around guys all the time that say shit like this. And because I never correct them or ask them to stop speaking this way. Because, I don't know.,.is women's rights really being set back by calling someone who whines and cries because they burn themselves a vagina? I think maybe there are bigger issues to fight for. Maybe I am just so politically incorrect I don't even see these things anymore.</div>
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My city voted for a new mayor on Tuesday. Our previous mayor has been in office since 1999. He is an amazing mayor and has done so much to build up downtown and to make our city great. When I moved here (in that exact same year) downtown was a ghost town. No restaurant was open except for lunch. The surrounding neighborhoods were crap. And now it is a place people want to live. I know him personally and often wave to him as he rides his bike by me as I am walking the dog. I was heart broken when I learned he was not running for another term.</div>
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His right hand man ran for mayor in the preliminaries and the above mentioned woman slammed him for promoting corruption in local schools. She promoted some guy who had zero experience and who I just couldn't bring myself to vote for. So, I didn't. And he lost. TERRIBLY. </div>
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This is a pattern of mine. When I took my last job, it was primarily because I believed the woman who owned the company was a great role model. I looked up to her and admired her as a woman and as a CEO of a very profitable restaurant group. I was wrong.</div>
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The latter is a much more serious case of me being wrong than my first example, but still. I am learning a lesson I never thought I would learn at 33. Sometimes the people that I look up to aren't always right. And they are human. And I can still look up to someone and disagree with them. I can also find out that someone I thought was a local hero was also a piece of shit. I always trust my instincts and I always will. I refuse to be someone who believes that everyone is bad or that everyone has an agenda, etc. </div>
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But one lesson I have known for a long time is to form my own opinions. I can admire someone and disagree with their opinion. I can genuinely like someone and not agree with them. </div>
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Everyone at my new job is super right wing conservative and they like to talk politics. I keep to myself and don't agree or disagree with them, but listen to their opinions. Sometimes I can see their side, sometimes I think they are being extremely reactionary (mostly to things they read on Facebook) and want to slap them in the face. </div>
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Agree to disagree. It's my new life mantra. </div>
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Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-15028405544681299992015-05-04T06:05:00.001-04:002015-05-04T06:05:14.463-04:00A Day In The Life Of....My Sundays<div style="text-align: justify;">
8:00 am: I wake up get a glass of water and talk to man-pants for a while. I ask him to flip on Friends because it is my go to fall asleep show these days. I wish I didn't have to have a lot of noise to sleep. </div>
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11:00 am: I stop lucid dreaming and am finally just awake. Does anyone else lucid dream? Mine are always boring and about mundane things. I wish that wasn't true. I guess the point is that I can change that? Mine don't really work that way. I am just perfectly aware I am sleeping and can change the dreams direction, but not overall situation. Anyway....</div>
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12:00 pm: I make myself some lunch and crawl back into bed and eat it while watching Friends.</div>
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1:00 pm: Somewhere around here I dozed back off. Paul was being super cuddly and I was literally spooning him while he licked my cheek. Apparently sand paper lulls me to sleep. Along with noise. I'm a strange one.</div>
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2:15 pm: Get in the shower, put on work uniform, let out the dog, blah blah blah.</div>
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3:00 pm: Arrive at work. I am immediately informed that all of our reservations fall between 3:30 pm and 4:00 pm. The entire line has to be gone by 3:00 because they all work another job at 4:00 pm. Two of them (normally 5 is considered the BARE MINIMUM) can stay indefinitely. By 4:00 pm, I need to have calamari portioned, mashed potatoes made, a line check done (which takes a seasoned sous chef an hour, it takes me much longer), bread veal marsala, cook off meatballs and make 4 trays of lasagna. By myself. Because the other two sous chefs on the clock have to be on the line.</div>
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4:30 pm: full rail of tickets and THREE line cooks are 15 minutes late. I learn that the opening sous hasn't done any of the orders yet that all have to be in by 5, so he is off the line and out of commission. I start calling the guys who aren't there, all go straight to voice mail.</div>
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5:00 pm: We basically figure out that three of the people on the schedule tonight are not coming in. I am on pantry solo (it was my first day of training on the station, so, yeah) and the other closing sous is working pasta. </div>
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I HAVE BLOCKED EVERYTHING BETWEEN 5 & 9. Let's just call it a very brutal four hours of torture.</div>
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9:00 pm: I start closing the station, based on how most restaurants close. Nobody seems to care one way or another. Normally inventory would be started by now. Nope. On a side note: solo with nothing but a book of specs for the station, I ran it and not once was a ticket waiting on something from me. I will go ahead and pat myself on the back after somebody finds me SEVEN MILLION Xanax to calm me down.</div>
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9:05 pm: Management mass exodus with absolutely no "are you guys going to be ok?" sentiment of any kind. Awesome. I feel the love.</div>
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9:30 pm: AGM orders me random food. I have a vague recollection of eating it while frantically flipping pans and wrapping everything in plastic.</div>
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10:00 pm: Inventory begins. This is my new Sunday gig. Inventory. Yay! I kind of go off on how poorly tonight went and how every single thing that I had on my plate couldn't be accomplished because of the am sous chef and crappy time management of the entire day staff.</div>
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11:00 pm: Dishwasher starts freaking out about dumpsters. We walk out back to discover the ASS HOLE who stocked the bar today put all of the boxes in the dumpster without breaking them down. Have to remove all the boxes from the dumpster and break them down and then put them back in. Still isn't room for all of the trash. </div>
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12:00 am: My fellow sous has taken like 6 smoke breaks and I am ready to kill him. AGM and sous are also having a fart contest I am sick of being a victim of. </div>
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1:30 am: AGM finishes counting his inventory and hogs the computer to enter it. We are at a standstill. I start absently rambling about nothing because I might be delirious. </div>
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2:30 am: WE ARE DONE. Almost. Let's spend 25 minutes looking at the report that we are going to do NOTHING to fix or change. Hi, tomorrow. There is time for that then.</div>
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3:00 am: I clock out. FINALLY I clock out. Fellow sous has a million things still to do and I frankly don't feel bad because he was dragging ass all night and slowing me down. I worked 58 hours this week.</div>
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4:00 am: Man-pants wakes up to get water and is sick as fuck. We had been texting on and off and I thought his declaration of having the plague of death was him just being a baby. Nope. Sick as fuck.</div>
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4:45 am: Short Dog projectile vomits chunks all over the very cream colored carpet in our hallway. I spend an hour trying to get it out. It just now looks like we are the most disgusting people ever. </div>
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5:00 am: Some fucking punk kid decides it will be funny to throw mulch at the front door (the room I am sitting in is on the street and therefore it is clear that a light is on from the street.) I watched him through the peep hole for a while to make sure he was just a stupid kid and then proceeded to old man "get off my damn lawn" him.</div>
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5:45 am: I decide to write a blog post about the terribly shit day I had because, well, I am wide awake and the entire free world is sound asleep and I am bored. </div>
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6:00 am: PEOPLE ARE ON FACEBOOK I HAVE SOMETHING TO DO NOW</div>
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Tomorrow is one of my two days off and if last week is similar at all, I will sleep most of the day. And I have to be at work at 8 am on Tuesday. </div>
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This job might kill me. On a positive note, I watched the sunrise over the city last week. Maybe that will be my Monday morning moment of zen. Watching the sun rise while sipping on some sleepy time tea heavy on the bourbon and watching Friends until I fall into a fitful sleep wherein I incorporate their shenanigans into my dreams and wake up confused. At 3pm. </div>
Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-12957038279212917952015-05-02T22:43:00.003-04:002015-05-04T05:27:01.789-04:00Tu eres mi amigo?<div style="text-align: justify;">
There is one English speaking person on staff at my restaurant that is not a manager in the kitchen. One. His name is Shaggy (obviously a nickname) and no better nickname has ever been applied. If he asked me about Scooby Snacks, it wouldn't even phase me. Not even a little.</div>
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I took 5 years of Spanish a very long time ago. I can barely speak it, but can read and understand it fairly well. As long as it falls into the generic public school Spanish that I took. When the amigos asked me if I spoke Spanish, I said no. Because, honestly, I didn't want to look stupid. Which is STUPID. But, spur of the moment decision...it's already going to be hard for me and I didn't want to add in fucking up their native language. </div>
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Ugh. Even with my limited knowledge, the language barrier is terrible. And I just feel like everyone is annoyed with me all of the time. I don't know if that is true. I just feel like they all think I am this giant idiot who can't speak Spanish and can't keep up with them. </div>
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The latter part is only true because every time I ask a question or ask where something is, I just get a blank stare and then a made up answer that makes no sense so I just figure it out on my own. </div>
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I am so ready to be done with training. The person who was training me today literally could not even converse with me. I asked him how long he worked with the company and he said "Si, si. Es bien." Meaning, "yes, yes. It's good." Yeah...so....that part sucks. And, honestly, when left alone with the various Spanish Pandora stations, I want to impale myself on something very, very sharp. </div>
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Do you know what is worse than talk radio? Talk radio in a language you don't speak. FOR 12 HOURS STRAIGHT. I so far have understood one story and all I know is that it was about Jennifer Lopez. </div>
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Tomorrow I actually start training on the line and will have someone who speaks English there the entire time. IT WILL BE AMAZING. </div>
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A part of me feels bad that I am so miserable because it's not their fault. A part of me wants to scream "YOU ARE IN AMERICA, LEARN FUCKING ENGLISH," but I am not that person. Maybe I am a little bit that person because I just typed that. But deep down, not really.</div>
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So, if anyone has access to Rosetta Stone and wants to share, I will not turn you down. </div>
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Being the minority kind of sucks. Is it weird for a very white girl to say that? It totally is. </div>
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I have dealt with sexism plenty, I can put some dudes in their place in a second. I just have to learn how to do that in Spanish. And fast. Or I am going to have exactly zero people that respect me there and that is just not ok with me.</div>
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Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-61962189590086062842015-04-26T02:25:00.004-04:002015-04-26T02:25:48.761-04:00Just hit the inhaler again. I might die. On a side note, 10 random things<br />
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<li style="text-align: justify;">I miss the late night noises. I don't necessarily miss working nights, but I also don't mind it. My destiny is never to be a Monday through Friday 9am - 5pm girl. I just hate how much turmoil it causes with family and friends. And not seeing man-pants for days on ends. I won't see him again until he gets off work Monday. </li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">I have been having almost asthma attacks for the past three nights. I contributed it to the insane amount of olives at my new job (it has happened every shift I have worked there and also eaten food.) But today I was careful. And it was the worst one yet. Man-pants meticulously cleaned the house, thinking it was just that we hadn't been super clean lately and I am allergic to both our pets. I hit a 10 year old inhaler about 10 times and I could finally breathe. Yes, yes, I know. That is so dangerous. I also took about 5 times the recommended dose of antihistamines. I'm not good at following rules.</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">I really bonded with the AGM at the new job today. We have spent 43 hours in 4 days chained to each other and it turns out...he is that guy who tries to show off the things about himself he thinks are cool. Like, he never talks about his kid or his wife, but I have heard 7 MILLION things about his taste in crappy emo-rock music. He calls it metal. Psht. </li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">I witnessed a man dragging a dummy dressed in a wedding dress down one of the busiest streets downtown. I thought it was a human and screamed. He was dragging her by her hair. It was the weirdest thing I have seen this week. Give it time....downtown is always entertaining.</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">I destroyed my hair dying it back to normal people hair colors. And today it looked like there was a tidal wave on top of my head. I straighten it (it isn't curly naturally since the treatment) and it stays straight for like 15 minutes and then it just sort of does whatever the fuck it wants. At least all of the little 21 year old hostesses got a huge kick out of my crazy ass hair. They are adorable. Like, shoot me in the face adorable. </li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">DID YOU KNOW OTTERS RAPE BABY SEALS UNTIL THEY ARE DEAD AND TOO DECOMPOSED TO RAPE? I am sorry if I just ruined your day. But my dreams of a pet otter are over and I needed to share my pain. Also, dolphins gang rape. Yes, I read some article on the sexual habits of sea-life. It is the biggest mistake I have made to date.</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">There is a woman at new job who is actually trying to play the "out bitch the new bitch" card. This may just be a women who work in restaurants thing. I don't know. I personally find this whole charade tiresome. I am just myself and generally earn respect. Sometimes I have to pull people aside and give the whole "just because I am not screaming at you does not mean I am a pushover" speech. I have witnessed (what I have now dubbed) the "I'm not your bitch, bitch" stand off between two women before. And it is HILARIOUS. And sad. Mostly because as a minority in the industry, we should support each other. But, whatever. I will just watch as everyone sees her game and sees me not playing it. Even if I lose respect for not playing. Don't care. Don't see strong women as a threat. </li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">I really want to be tired enough to go to bed. I am destined to be up until 3am. Which is ok because I close tomorrow and won't even get off work until 1am. </li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">My old apartment complex has sort of spiraled out of control. After I moved out, so did every tenant except one. This included the acting apartment manager. So, when the owner (we will call her the slumlord bitch who never returned my security deposit DESPITE me finding the next tenant and her renting it to him without ever entering the property) posted a for rent sign...man-pants and I hid it several times a day. I will give slumlord bitch this...she should play hide and seek professionally because she always found it within a few hours and put it back out. And, yes, yes I know. Take her to small claims court.</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">The cat is trying to lay on the laptop. This is the first cat-like thing he has ever done. Well, he kneads things. And meows. And is scared of laser pointers. Hates toys. Loves having his belly rubbed. And has penis shaped markings on his forehead. So, you know, sounds about like my cat.</li>
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Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-13906748549120364672015-04-24T23:13:00.000-04:002015-04-24T23:13:01.095-04:00Hey...sorry, not sorry about the absence. Sometimes you just have to figure shit out.Hello?<br />
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Hello?<br />
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Tap. Tap.<br />
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Anyone out there?<br />
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I got home from work tonight and I just felt like blogging.<br />
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It started with a post on facebook from another blogger about it being National Infertility Awareness Week. And I composed a really long comment on a blog I have never read before and thought....huh. I feel like writing.<br />
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I doubt anyone is reading anymore. And I suppose that is ok too.<br />
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My last post was very negative. And things continued to be negative for a very long time after that. To some extent, it still is.<br />
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At some point the elation of not being unhappy wears off and you sit in a tiny, shitty apartment with no money and S.W.A.T. making an appearance more than once in a year...isn't once too many...and you think, I can't do this. This isn't me. I have never lived like this. I can't do this.<br />
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And that statement is not entirely true either. I guess it was two equal reactions to one situation. There was the sheer happiness of feeling, well, free. Of finally being out of a relationship I honestly don't believe I should have ever been in from the start. We were never suited for each other. But we liked each other well enough. And we got along for a while. And we made each other less lonely. But it wasn't happiness and it was stifling.<br />
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Getting away from that was extremely freeing. So, I was just so thrilled with EVERYTHING that was different and everything that allowed me to be me.<br />
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Then the reality of none of my friends and family ever wanting to come visit me because they were scared hit. And instead of sticking up for the neighborhood I love, I started to hate it. I started to get down on myself for being 33 fucking years old and not doing better, not being better.<br />
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Both of these feelings were wrong for me. Neither exactly fit me, despite how much I wanted them to.<br />
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And during all of this I was trying to figure out a very intense, very fast moving relationship with the only person I can honestly say knows everything about me.<br />
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So, yeah.<br />
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We got a new apartment just down the street. It's much nicer and not embarrassing, despite being tiny, with the promise that we were going to use this time (OUR RENT IS ONLY $485) to save up a lot of money and to DO things. And put ourselves in a position to actually have some place we are proud of in the neighborhood we love.<br />
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I got a new job. A big girl job. Like, for real this time. It is for a fine dining restaurant chain that has restaurants in 33 states and is projected to make $500 million dollars this year. Just to give you an idea of how much money they are paying me....I am eligible for $5000/year in bonuses.<br />
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My thirties taught me something very important. I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHO I AM. And for a while I was embarrassed about who I was. I was embarrassed and I don't know why.<br />
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I had to dye my hair back to "natural" colors for this job. I have to wear sleeves to cover my tattoos. I will never make friends with any of the people I work with because they aren't the kind of people I want as friends. And you know what, that is ok. I have a job to do and I am fine showing up and just doing it. There are multiple reasons for that...one of them being...WORKING EXPO ON THAT LINE DURING A RUSH WILL MAKE ME FEEL LIKE SUCH A BAD ASS. Seriously. I watch the chefs do it now and am like, fucking shit. That is going to be me. I am going to control that kitchen like a fucking violin. It gives me this insane high I can't explain to even imagine doing that.<br />
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Right now I am doing front of house and busing tables and feel like an idiot. But, you know, I will get there.<br />
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Somebody asked me....do they make you feel bad about your tattoos? And your purple hair? And the neighborhood you choose to live in?<br />
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Yeah. They kind of do. Which makes me all that much more motivated to prove them wrong. To prove that I am just as good as them, if not better, at being a chef.<br />
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I'm sick of being made to feel like I am not as good as someone else because my lifestyle choice is not the same as theirs.<br />
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My body will be covered in tattoos one day. My hair would be purple again if I could. I will always live in my little hood that loves and embraces me because, frankly, the diversity of people I meet on a day to day basis make me happy. The thought of living in the suburbs makes me cringe. I am not saying there isn't some level of diversity, but it is generally the same income level with similar values and similar lifestyles. I meet conservative republicans covered in tattoos and talk politics with them. I meet former meth addicts that have turned their life around and own their own home and have a great job and are often buying me drinks at the bar. I meet people like me, who just didn't know where they fit in.<br />
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And somehow we all fit in here. In this fucked up kind of crime ridden neighborhood. And they all love me for exactly who I am.<br />
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I just have to teach myself to feel the same. Because I am awesome and bad ass and can do anything I set my mind to.<br />
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It just took me 5 months to figure that out. Or maybe 33 years. But it's true. Insecurities are one thing, but doubting my entire identity is another. And I refuse to do it again.<br />
<br />Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-21736128721177289822014-11-11T20:32:00.001-05:002014-11-11T20:32:15.493-05:00The Worst Weekend of My Life (thus far)<div style="text-align: justify;">
This all feels so unreal. The past 5 days have been some of the worst of my life. </div>
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This past Thursday, man-pants showed up to work to find a sign that said "no checks, sorry!" </div>
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Sunday, it was announced that his restaurant was sold and he no longer had a job. </div>
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Monday, he got offered a job at another restaurant in the company for $1.50/hour paycut and a demotion. </div>
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He was promised pay tomorrow and is now getting text messages stating that there is no money to pay them. </div>
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He owes me $450 (which is irrelevant except to state how in the hole he is. I don't care about the money.)</div>
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I do not have enough money to pay the remainder of our bills. Between a recently sick cat and the move, we are tapped. </div>
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There is potential that it will be another 3 weeks before he gets paid. </div>
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The owner of his restaurant (different than the owner of mine) was in Nashville on vacation SPENDING THE MONEY THAT WAS NEEDED TO PAY THE STAFF.</div>
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I watched man-pants have a panic attack. I have watched his coworkers devastated. I have watched everyone involved with this restaurant have their entire lives turned upside down. </div>
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His 5 month pregnant shift lead was borrowing $20 for gas because she was broke.</div>
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I am posting this here not because I need anyone to feel sorry for me, but because I can't vent on social media for fear of losing my job. Everyone in my life is surely sick of hearing me scream about how evil this woman is and how she is destroying lives with a smile on her face. </div>
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AND SHE HAD THE FUCKING BALLS TO CRY OVER HOW MEAN EVERYONE WAS BEING TO HER ON FACEBOOK. </div>
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She hasn't even had the backbone to talk to any of the staff in person, she is forcing the front of house manager to relay all the news. </div>
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I am very fortunate that my family has enough money to help me get through this. VERY FORTUNATE. But, this is how people end up homeless. This is how lives are ruined. </div>
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I have, for the first time, encountered someone who I believe to be truly evil. Someone who has this city fooled, thinking she is a good samaritan and selfless person. She is a local celebrity and loved by everyone (myself included until I started working for this company.)</div>
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I am watching man-pants go through all of this, knowing he hates that he has no money and I am supporting him. Knowing that he cared about that place and busted his ass for it makes me sick. </div>
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This whole thing makes me absolutely furiously sick. </div>
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As soon as man-pants finds another job and is on his feet again, my first order of business is doing the same. </div>
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If you know me in person, stop giving this woman your money. I don't care how much you love the food. (You can still come see me at work because she isn't affiliated with my location.) </div>
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And send happy thoughts our way. Mostly happy lottery thoughts. We really need it.</div>
Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-6901585926993260932014-09-14T20:16:00.001-04:002014-09-14T21:01:18.059-04:00Moving onI can't even begin to explain how out of control the dishonesty has escalated at work. I am debating between telling my owner, who will surely fire me or just finding a new job and giving one hell of an exit interview. So many people I trusted and considered friends have betrayed me. I feel like a scapegoat....like everything is going to be blamed on me. When I have done literally nothing. I have never encountered this level of deceit and dishonesty before. I have never met such terrible people in my life. <div><br></div><div>I feel like I am just naive and trust people I shouldn't. I feel like I should watch my back constantly. I have never been easy to trust, but am I now doing it too easily? Am I just assuming people are honest when they are actually complete fucking dicks? </div><div><br></div><div>My world feels a little upside down. </div><div><br></div><div>I am hurt </div><div><br></div><div>I am pissed</div><div><br></div><div>I am vengeful</div><div><br></div><div>I want to burn the restaurant to the ground and cartoon character style laugh maniacally over the ashes. </div><div><br></div><div>Not really. </div><div><br></div><div>I spent some time with a staff member tonight who told me soooo much. She is definitely been a good friend through all of this and put the final nail in the coffin on some things I suspected. </div><div><br></div><div>I need out. </div><div><br></div><div>It's not a safe environment for me anymore. </div><div><br></div><div>I put these people, this company on a pedestal for so many years. Have frequented their restaurants for a decade. </div><div><br></div><div>It's been a really long, hard, painful fall from the top. </div>Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-84352664967840932712014-09-05T21:36:00.002-04:002014-09-11T21:27:50.705-04:00Bourbon on the rocks...with a lime pleaseThings aren't great right now. Not in a tangible way either. I can't say, well, this one thing is not going well. It's just a series of a lot of things that aren't going as expected. A lot of SURPRISE! this is not happening the way you expected kind of things. I find myself frustrated a lot. I find myself angry and upset a lot. This is not normal for me. It is not the way I want things to go.<br>
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I can't go into a whole lot of detail about the work stuff, but there is a possible law suit and a completely unrelated possibility that I could be fired for bringing it to the attention of management that one of their managers (not me, of course) is stealing.<br>
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Just mother fucking ugh.<br>
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Plus we are maybe moving, we don't know, because people are flaky. And man-pants is maybe getting a new job, we don't know because nobody ever knows with that shit.<br>
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And my dog will only poop for me.<br>
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And the cat won't stop meowing at all hours of the night.<br>
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AND THERE IS A SMELL AND NO AMOUNT OF FIND THAT SMELL IS WORKING.<br>
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I hate find that smell.<br>
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I said goodbye to a friend of 15 years two days ago. I have talked about him, but never gave him a name here. It doesn't matter who he is, he became toxic in my life and I refuse to allow someone like that to continue being in my life.<br>
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I want positivity and happiness and GOOD. And right now the universe is throwing me a bunch of negative and bad.<br>
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Sometimes it gets so overwhelming, I have to walk to my car and just take some deep breaths. And remind myself that I am happy and healthy and good. <div><br></div><div>Sometimes life hands you lemons...and I say fuck that, I want limes and make a mother fucking cocktail. </div>Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-87334965282374913922014-08-26T23:56:00.001-04:002014-08-26T23:56:11.359-04:0010 things I just don't understand1. Getting a tattoo of your dog. Or your cat. Or your your albino ferret. I love animals as much as the next person (give me otter or give me death) but a tattoo? Really? No. <div>2. People who order sandwiches with no bread. Get a salad. Or, really, anything. But a pile of turkey and cheese with a side of mayo is weird.</div><div>3. The als ice bucket challenge...good cause, I know. But so fucking annoying. </div><div>4. My job. I would elaborate if I could. Ugh.</div><div>5. How rioting is a solution to violence. And how violence is a solution to anything. And sending tear gas into a crowd of elderly people and children. Mostly just violence as a solution.</div><div>6. My addiction to cheese fries</div><div>7. My cat's inability to shut the fuck up between 3 am and 7 am</div><div>8. Why when it rains it pours. Just one thing at a time, universe.</div><div>9. People who are gluten free that order pasta. Because you can't have a gluten allergy if you don't know what the fuck gluten is.</div><div>10. The Kim Kardashian game. That I can't stop playing. Send help. </div>Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-87464911355118513932014-08-22T20:38:00.000-04:002014-08-22T20:38:25.581-04:00Struggling<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am struggling right now. With money, with life, just struggling. </div>
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My credit is terrible. With the foreclosure of last year and some medical bills, I have a lot of "dings" on my credit. I decided to try to clean it all up. This means I am literally barely breaking even. I have had to cancel plans and hermit in our apartment just because I have zero money to spare. It's good, it's really good, that I am finally taking all of this seriously. I HATE DEBT. Several years ago, I decided to never have a credit card again. This makes emergency situations be a cash only kind of deal. Sometimes this is fine, sometimes not so much. Man-pants and I are going to Aruba in March, so I am trying to save for that. Passports are expensive, blah blah blah. I'm broke. I can pay all of my household expenses with half of one of my two paychecks a month. So, I shouldn't be broke, right? STUDENT LOANS. I have $42k in them. They literally want an entire paycheck a month in payment. </div>
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Blah, Blah, Blah. Whine, Whine, Whine. The moral of the story is that man-pants and I have decided to move into an apartment a few doors down that is a 2 bedroom, much nicer and a little cheaper a month. We are spending the winter banking money so this vacation doesn't break us. September is the month where we officially combine bills and I can start actually having money again. It will be a breath of fresh air, where in everything goes into savings so I can have the vacation of my life in Aruba. </div>
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I also have come to a realization that two chefs cannot survive together. There just isn't any money, health insurance, blah blah blah. If I ever want to make a life for myself, I can't continue in this line of work. I don't plan to leave soon. I don't plan to, actually, leave at all. I just want to be the on the other side of things. I am actively pursuing a job working for the food vendors that sell me food. To get back into some sort of a corporate chef. Whether I am doing test kitchens, sales, whatever. Both of us can't work for locally owned businesses and ever be more than living in 400 sq ft apartments and counting pennies. </div>
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I love what I do. It's time to find a way to survive while still loving what I do. </div>
Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-84158960754492547592014-08-08T21:27:00.004-04:002014-08-08T21:27:34.714-04:00My Fucked Up Romance<div style="text-align: justify;">
Before man-pants and I started dating, he would leave pink post it notes all over my office that just said boner. </div>
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I realize it sounds silly, but it always made me laugh. I would open a notebook or a file and there would just be this pink post it that said boner. </div>
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Our front of house manager frequently drew penises on, well, everything. There are a lot of dick jokes in restaurants. </div>
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Sometime during the first week that we dated, I came home from work to find the bed made and my apartment picked up and a boner note on the bed. I still have it. </div>
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Boner eventually escalated to penis drawings which would be hidden all over whatever station I was working. </div>
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Man-pants last day of work led to this...they were hidden all over everything. The next day, me and a coworker boob bombed his station in retaliation. </div>
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This explanation leads up to one of the sweetest things ever. Our schedules frequently suck ass and we are working opposites. Today, for example, I left for work at 9 am, man-pants was sound asleep. I got off at 5. Man-pants gets off work at 10 pm, about the time that I go to bed because I work at 7 am. One night I was working late and came home to this.</div>
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This is the door at the top of the stairs that leads into my apartment. There were little notes like this taped everywhere. </div>
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To the average outsider, we probably look like an insane couple that is kind of mean to each other. But I finally found someone who speaks kitchen. Who gets that a dick drawing is a thousand times sweeter to me than flowers. Who I can be totally blunt and honest with all the time and understands that it isn't mean or spiteful, just honest. </div>
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We are currently living in 450 square feet with a cat and a dog and all of our stuff. </div>
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If you had told me two years ago this was my life, I would have run away screaming. </div>
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I have never been happier.</div>
Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-17514278452396196822014-07-25T21:57:00.000-04:002014-07-25T21:57:43.483-04:00You're Fired! Just kidding. Maybe.<div style="text-align: justify;">
The first time I fired someone, I left the conference room, went straight to the bathroom and threw up. </div>
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I was 23. Maybe 24. I felt like a total ass hole. It was the only person I have ever fired prior to my current job. I had a part in other people getting fired, definitely. But not the act itself.</div>
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I have lost count of the number of people I have fired since I started my current job. I currently have 22 people working in my kitchen alone, this doesn't count the servers and bartenders employed by the restaurant. </div>
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And this may sound ridiculously cold, but it is easy. Compared to the first time, I don't have a single qualm about any person I have fired. Every single person was adequately warned or broke company policy. They all expected it. </div>
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One guy was caught smoking weed on the clock.</div>
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One guy was late so many times that I suspended him. Then he called at 6 pm for a shift that started at 10 am.</div>
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One guy called off 3 times in his first month.</div>
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And so on. Obvious reasons to let every single one of them go. </div>
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Enter this week. I have a meeting tomorrow that will determine the fate of two of my staff members. One of them has been an employee for 7 years. He has a shit attitude and the owner is done. He also has crippling depression and a drinking problem that affects his mood. And the front of house manager HATES him. I don't think I am going to win the fight for him. But I am going to have to fire him.</div>
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The second employee is someone who helps to the point of their own detriment. She tries so hard but is genuinely just really really bad at her job. I like her. But I am fairly certain I have to fire her. </div>
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Neither of these people will see it coming. Neither of these people will have any kind of back up plan or any other jobs lined up. It will totally shock them both. </div>
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I suddenly find myself extremely uncomfortable at the thought of firing either one of them. I will be backed into a corner and my hand will be forced in both cases. </div>
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This job is hard. It's hard to juggle 20 something people's lives. It's hard when I have to cut hours and hurt someone's well being. It's hard when I have to fire people I don't want to fire. It's hard being in charge. I have been a manager before, but never in a circumstance where I am reporting directly to an owner who basically says "call me only if necessary." It's my kitchen, my staff. It's me fielding the calls when someone is unhappy and me fielding the call offs. It is me covering the shifts. It is me me me me me. </div>
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Sometimes that is nice. Sometimes it keeps me up at night. Tonight is the latter. </div>
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I spent an hour on the phone with one of my shift leads tonight discussing basically all of this. </div>
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It's hard to be liked and to manage. </div>
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It's hard to be effective and to still do what I love.</div>
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It's hard to be good at my job and care about the people who work for me. </div>
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Today is hard. Tomorrow will be significantly harder. </div>
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This is not my dream job, because my dream job is to own my own restaurant. But this is as close as I have come. And right now, in this moment, in the next 24 hours, I really fucking hate my job.</div>
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My front of house manager said that he has become so desensitized to firing people it doesn't even phase him. He has fired pregnant women, single dads, so on and so forth with no remorse. </div>
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If I ever get there, I am lost. </div>
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If I ever get there, I am not me anymore.</div>
<br />Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-71303573486652093732014-07-19T18:37:00.000-04:002014-07-19T18:37:22.433-04:00Catching Up<div style="text-align: justify;">
Where to start? An explanation perhaps? A brief one.</div>
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I didn't feel comfortable writing here. I am still not 100% sure that I do. I lost a lot of friends when my relationship with the boy ended, people I did not anticipate losing. People that read this blog. And while I would love to say, fuck them, I don't care what people think...that's not true. And I didn't want my stories, my life just put out there for everyone to read and then gossip about behind my back. But, I guess, in the end, what difference does it make?</div>
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I considered starting a new blog, but I didn't really want to do that either. I want to change the face, the feel of this blog for sure. Because I am no longer the person who started this. But a new blog? That feels wrong to me.</div>
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I considered just not writing at all anymore. But I miss it. A lot. I miss the connections I have made here. And maybe most of them are gone, which I would totally understand. Hopefully they come back. And maybe, just maybe, I will make some new connections.</div>
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If you only know me from the blogging world, I am still out there reading. I still think about all of you and love you all dearly. I have literally just had a phone at my disposal for almost a year.</div>
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And it's funny, my neighbor offered to take a look at my laptop and fixed it in 10 minutes. No clue what she did, but I am ever so grateful.</div>
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So, let me summarize the past year of my life.</div>
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I changed everything. And I mean, everything. All changes that I have felt inside of me for a long time. I am not going to dwell on the past and lament about the series of mistakes that ended with me in a life I never wanted. A life I tried to make the best of and couldn't. All that matters is now. No matter how crazy everyone thinks I went, which I know they do. Those that have spoken to me since this all happened know that I am the happiest I have ever been. And THAT is what matters.</div>
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That wasn't all that brief. We all know how long winded I can be.</div>
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I just got back from a week in St. Louis that I needed SO BADLY. It has been over three years since I had more than 2 consecutive days off in a row. I can't remember, since starting this job, a week that I haven't worked on my day off. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE my job. Do not get me wrong, everyone there yells at me to go home. But I needed this week. </div>
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It started off as a tour of the midwest, hitting up Chicago, Indianapolis and St. Louis to see family and friends. Then man-pants couldn't get any time off. Then right as we were getting ready to leave to come home, he got the time off very unexpectedly. So we missed seeing a lot of people we wanted to see because of how unorganized the plans were. We had a great time, it just wasn't what either of us expected it to be.</div>
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We are staying in my shitty apartment until Spring to bank money because we are going to Aruba in March!! So, 450 square feet with two people, a dog and a cat. </div>
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Oh yeah, we got a cat. My friend is moving to LA and couldn't take him. He is HANDS DOWN the sweetest cat I have ever met. But, fucking shit, he never shuts up. Like ever. Meow, meow, meow, I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU. That is 3 am every single day here. I love him very much and would never actually murder him. But have about exhausted "SHUT THE FUCK UP CAT" solutions. Any suggestions?</div>
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So, that is about it for me. Gratuitous cuteness below. </div>
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<br />Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-58375415891453411812014-07-17T23:28:00.001-04:002014-07-17T23:28:58.779-04:00I'm back!My laptop has returned to working order. Expect more posts soon! Would post tonight, but downloading a years worth of updates. Can't wait to be back!!! Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-61135634538894709262014-05-30T22:51:00.001-04:002014-05-30T22:51:29.048-04:00This post focuses on me being an asshole...and also my assholePrepare yourself for TMI. My period has decided lately that it will be SUPER heavy, make me constipated and then cause lower back pain. <div><br></div><div>This is month three of this shit. (Pun intended)</div><div><br></div><div>I was whining to man-pants tonight and tried to stand up to go pee and exclaimed the following:</div><div><br></div><div>"It's like god cuts off your fucking leg. So you have no leg. And then he flicks you in the forehead. That is my lower back pain, god is flicking me in the fucking forehead." Which is what I said as I literally waddled to the bathroom like I was about to birth a bowling ball.</div><div><br></div><div>This post is NSFC.</div><div><br></div><div>Didn't laugh? Man-pants didn't get it either. The real lesson here is don't let nuns read my blog. And flicking someone in the forehead is a dick move. And know Internet short hand. Because if you don't know what NSFW means, I feel like you accidentally open a lot of vulgar shit in staff meetings. And then send me angry text messages about how I should warn you before I send that shit. </div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">My bad. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span></div>Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-65579234953594117452014-05-04T10:59:00.001-04:002014-05-04T10:59:44.482-04:00Judgement, love and supportI have been struggling, really struggling lately. I am the happiest I have been in recent memory. It seems as if in the past year everything has fallen into place. I had to make some hard choices and I hurt some people along the way. I regret that part of it immensely. I also realize from the outside looking in, it looks like I had a nervous breakdown. And putting the people around me through that stress has been eating away at me. I find myself in tears quite often thinking of the whispers around the holidays. Of the events that have recently come to light that crippled me for days because of how hurtful and deceitful they were. I find myself dwelling on that rather than moving forward. <div><br></div><div>And I find myself not being able to move past the stigma of dating an employee. Granted, in 3 weeks he is taking over another restaurant in the company and it will all be moot. But I feel as though there has been a rain cloud following me around on the sunniest day of my life. And I can't seem to let it go. </div><div><br></div><div>Until last Thursday. Big Jed has been studying EPT, or Emotional Polarity Technique. I will let you all google that on your own, but basically it is a holistic approach to emotion. To finding the root cause of a certain emotion and allowing yourself to let it go through understanding and polarity. (That is definitely dumbing it down, so maybe Big Jed can elaborate in the comments or post a link that isn't terrible.)</div><div><br></div><div>Anyway, she asked if I could be one of her practice patients to help get her certification. I, of course, agreed and decided that this was the issue I needed to discuss...in short why everyone else affected my happiness so much. And after much digging and finding the shocking root of the problem, she completed the therapy and I felt, well, tired. </div><div><br></div><div>Queue the next day, it was like the black cloud had been lifted. I no longer felt guilty that everyone was worried about me because I wasn't. And if they talked to me, they wouldn't worry either. I no longer cared about how man-pants and I met because this is the person I plan on spending the rest of my life with. Not a doubt in my mind and there hasn't been since day one. I no longer care if people doubt the decisions I am making because I know they are right for me, healthy for me. For the first time in my entire adult life I feel free. I love my friends and family, but it's not my place to judge their choices just as it is not theirs to judge mine. As long as they are happy and healthy, I don't give a shit. As long as I am happy and healthy, I give nobody the right to make me feel bad about my choices. </div><div><br></div><div>I know that seems obvious and very easy to say...and I have said those words outloud 100 times. And meant them only now. I feel like for the first time in my life, I get to just be me. The good, the bad, me. Man-pants sees it all. And, shockingly, for the first time I am in a relationship where the bad and the ugly and the darkest of all the shadows are so easy to talk about. And they are met with a hug and a kiss and support. There is no anger, no disappointment, nothing but support and love. </div><div><br></div><div>It's real easy to sit back and judge other people. To find someone with the same moral compass as you and to look at everyone else and think about how much better you have it. It's not that easy to sit across from the person you love and put all your skeletons out there. But it's really fucking great when that person doesn't judge you for it, doesn't think any less of you. </div><div><br></div><div>From this point forward, I am living my life for me. I am making the choices I want to make. Whether this is a body covered in tattoos or selling everything I own and moving to Aruba to open a food truck on the beach. I will make decisions that make me happy and refuse to let others make me feel bad about that because it is not a decision they would make. And I promise to do my damnedest to be supportive and loving and non-judgemental to those I hold dear. </div><div><br></div><div>Sober May might turn out to be the best thing I ever did. </div><div><br></div><div>Next: Insomnia. Big Jed, you up for the challenge??</div>Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-91231500674867212542014-04-29T12:14:00.001-04:002014-04-29T12:14:29.505-04:00I'm alive! Sort of.The saying is...if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. Lately that has been the case. I am fine, it's not like anything in my life is bad. Man-pants and I are great and decided to move in together when both our leases end this fall. Life is good. <div><br></div><div>Work...well, it's been rough. The restaurant bought the building we are located in and money has been TIGHT. Stress levels are high. Menu changes are of course rolling out, which adds stress. Just stress, stress, stress. Doesn't make for a very good blog post. And, honestly, my life hasn't been much but work, work, work lately. I am taking a week of vacation in June and touring the Midwest to see all the family I didn't see over the holidays because I was working. </div><div><br></div><div>The neighborhood family decided to be sober for the month of May. We all have just been partying too hard since spring hit. Bar patios and nice weather and cook outs and just constantly being outside with a drink in hand. My liver is silently weeping and I need to give him a break. I need him for the many years of bourbon ahead. (Not sure why my liver is male either. I suppose I picture him in an arm chair with a glass of booze smoking a cigar. My liver really shouldn't smoke.)</div><div><br></div><div>A family friend is dying. I say that bluntly because how else do you say it? He's 28 and a drug addict. His heart is failing and he needs a transplant but they won't put him on the list because of his drug use. It's sad, but honestly, expected. He was born with a heart defect and shouldn't even drink caffeine. I have seen the road ending here for years. I consider his parents my family and the true devastation is watching them lose their only child. </div><div><br></div><div>Another part of sober May is watching a friend get consumed by alcoholism. He lost his job and got evicted from his apartment. His family has turned their backs on him and so have all his friends. It is sad and awful and I hope hitting rock bottom will be a wake up call. I highly doubt it. </div><div><br></div><div>So, yeah. That is pretty much consuming me and I have zero on my mind other than all of that. I love this place and love all of you that still read. I promise, when everything isn't so bleak, I will be updating with my normal shenanigans. I will definitely be updating during sober May. Because I am going to be bored as shit! </div><div><br></div><div>How are all of you?</div><div><br></div>Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-87668694912129570852014-03-23T17:39:00.001-04:002014-03-23T17:39:58.776-04:00Self preservationThe boy unfriended me on facebook. And I am upset about it. Not because my feelings are hurt but because I know he did it because I hurt him. <div><br></div><div>When I ended things, I thought I was saying what both of us were feeling. I thought there would be shock, then relief. I thought he felt guilty and stuck around because I didn't make enough money to make it on my own. I stayed longer than I should have for the same reason. </div><div><br></div><div>I was wrong. I hurt him. The day I moved out he posted on facebook that it was the hardest day of his life. </div><div><br></div><div>I meant it when I said I wanted to remain friends. I had to block his posts because it upset me to see him upset. I needed space from him so that we could be friends. </div><div><br></div><div>He said that when he was ready, he wanted to talk. To know what happened. I agreed, knowing I would never have that conversation and open wounds he had worked to heal. </div><div><br></div><div>I got a call the other day about NCH from the vet. I called to relay the message and was sent straight to voicemail. It stung a little. That's not how friends treat each other. </div><div><br></div><div>I was doing a facebook cleaning today and as I went through my friends list I realized he wasn't there. Nor were his friends from high school. And it hit me. I hurt him again. </div><div><br></div><div>Giddy off of finally being out at work, man-pants and I decided to change our profile pictures and become facebook official. We were so excited that we could tell people, I didn't think what it would do to him. Maybe it was before that and I just didn't notice. I don't know. But it upset me that I could have hurt him again. And it upset me that I will probably never see him again. Or our mutual friends. It occurred to me that my getting out of an extremely unhappy, unhealthy situation for me was devastating for him. It occurred to me that he probably hates me. And the people he talks to on a regular basis probably hate me too. </div><div><br></div><div>To all of them, I left suddenly and unexpectedly leaving him stunned and devastated. None of them see that I made a handful of extremely hard decisions so that I could hopefully find happiness. </div><div><br></div><div>I suppose this is how break ups go. The people who knew me well were not surprised. The people who didn't were shocked. Comfortable is not happy. </div><div><br></div><div>I had a boyfriend do something very similar to me and it has only been in the past few years that I could imagine having a drink with him. </div><div><br></div><div>I hope one day the boy gets there. I really do. Because I miss his friendship. And it hurts me to know that we will never grab that drink. And that it is because of my actions and how much I hurt him. My intentions were never to do him any harm, they were simply to save myself.</div>Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-50797264357818535442014-03-11T12:17:00.001-04:002014-03-12T14:13:34.835-04:00Finding the real me.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>I have this terrible habit of dooming things before they start. Every weekend, I dread Sunday because it means the weekend is almost over. I can pick apart any situation and find the negative. <div><br></div><div>I am changing that. When you go through essentially a divorce, move and change jobs in a month, dwelling on the negative ends in a nervous breakdown. A lot went really, really wrong really, really fast. And something in me broke. I lost the ability to doom everything. I hit rock bottom, if you will. There was no where to go but up. I started giving myself pep talks, forcing myself to see the positive in every situation. My apartment is a shit hole and my landlord is a slumlord. But it's mine. And I am safe and on the same block as one of my favorite bars. And I love my neighbors. You get the point. </div><div><br></div><div>Can I tell you what a difference it has made in my life? I don't normally do the preachy, life is wonderful kind of thing, but man is life wonderful. Bad things are still happenning. I have just the same amount of stress I have always had. But instead of stressing out, I force myself to focus on the positive things in my life. Do I slip? Absolutely. But I feel like I am in control of my life for the first time. I am controlling my own happiness. No more letting things happen to me. </div><div><br></div><div>Most importantly, I am making decisions that make me happy. I'm not making decisions to make other people happy. That's not to say I am a sociopath or anything. But I had to stop caring what people thought because, frankly, it hurt too much to see the pity in their eyes. It hurt too much to try to guess what they were saying about me. </div><div><br></div><div>I dyed my hair purple and blue. That sounds crazy, I know. But it was done professionally and it is so bad ass I can't even tell you. I will have man-pants take pictures and post them so you all don't think I have lost my mind.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2zB5u7I9GBQvXNP6LJsw_RSnrDYSEByPBs1ZKTpae4xZFhjrOiq0UDpzOsoYITWbm5iKffEsEIQQ6LWeTMAWqxlixL-g8QgbQKuOefnXt7Zm6s54D-CLdkcYeV4BuJ0j-V5mC0-GYOIQ/s640/blogger-image--659520899.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2zB5u7I9GBQvXNP6LJsw_RSnrDYSEByPBs1ZKTpae4xZFhjrOiq0UDpzOsoYITWbm5iKffEsEIQQ6LWeTMAWqxlixL-g8QgbQKuOefnXt7Zm6s54D-CLdkcYeV4BuJ0j-V5mC0-GYOIQ/s640/blogger-image--659520899.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>I am in the process of getting a food sleeve on my left arm. </div><div><br></div><div>And I am doing these things because they make me happy. I have always wanted to dye my hair crazy colors. I love having art on my body. </div><div><br></div><div>I am happy. And I can attribute it all to positive thinking. The queen of sarcasm and pessimism has gone to the dark side. Or perhaps the light side in this case. And it feels damn good.</div>Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3078958866601919363.post-30808753178599016622014-03-11T11:03:00.001-04:002014-03-11T11:03:52.011-04:00Herbert, my new BFFIt is sixty degrees and sunny and I am writing a blog post. Why, yes, I have lost my mind, thank you for asking. I also am not wearing pants. But I swear I will put on pants and go outside as soon as I am done. <div><br></div><div>I have mice. Or mouse as I have only seen one. But more than likely mice. I discovered this when I grabbed a loaf of bread off the refrigerator and there was a mouse sized hole in it. I turned to man-pants and declared that we now had tiny little pets and should we buy them sweaters? He looked at me like I had lost my damn mind and drug me to the hardware store for mouse killing devices. </div><div><br></div><div>See, everytime I have had mice, I have just coexisted with them. They don't bother me and I have never had an infestation of any kind. Just signs here and there. Maybe a sighting now and then. Apparently I am weird and death to all mice. I can't handle the thought of killing said mice, so man-pants was in charge. We bought glue traps (the snappy ones with a dog? No) and he was going to put them someplace I would never see a dead animal and the dog would never eat a dead animal. </div><div><br></div><div>The traps are still sitting on top of the fridge. So, last night I went to get a glass of wine and turned on the kitchen light and there goes Herbert running from the wine rack to under the fridge. I screamed like a girl because it scared the living shit out of me. But then I kept going in the kitchen trying to find him because he was adorable. And probably chilly because he didn't have a sweater. Man-pants upon observing my obsession with Herbert rolled his eyes and declared we would go to the store tomorrow and get catch and release traps. That is true love right there. </div><div><br></div><div>Except he has to drive because my perfectly lovely car is still sitting out back. </div><div><br></div><div>I wonder how he feels about otters? </div>Erratichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05618303357855288485noreply@blogger.com0