Saturday, January 31, 2009

I am not an exhibitionist.

Today I stopped by my boyfriend's work and brought egg mc muffins, hash browns, and iced coffees for the boys.  While my boyfriend was preoccupied with a car allignment, I chatted with his close friend.
"So how do you like Hooters so far?" he said with a mouthful of mc muffin.
"It's great.  It's probably the funnest job I've ever had."  Yeah I know funnest isn't a word but I was in east county and didn't want to stand out too much. :p
"Well yeah I bet, all those guys looking at you..." he trailed off.

Ok.  Stop.  Right there.  No.  HELL no.  If I wanted to work somewhere for the attention I'd find a strip club.  This is where I don't understand guys and this is why when people ask where I work I say "A police station."  Frankly, I find the girls I work with who flaunt their occupation to be a little bit ostentatious.  This is why I write about where I work in my blog, which a total of maybe five or six people read.  Unfortunately four girls who hang out with my boyfriend's friends work there so my secret wasn't so secret for long.  But I want you to know that if Hooters was what television and movies make it out to be, I wouldn't be working there.  I respect myself that much.  Hooters is "fun" for me because it forces me to interact with very feminine girls; something I never do on my own time.  I think it's healthy for me because, although the uniforms cover more than most girls wear during the summer, they are a little revealing and it is helping me work on my confidence.  At work I am forced to communicate with gorgeous girls and easily carry a conversation with the guests that come into our restaurant, something I was never able to do before because of my horrible self-esteem.  It forces me to do my hair and make up.  It forces me to pay attention to what my body eats and how much I exercise.  It's forcing me to take care of myself.  I applied to Hooters with the knowledge that they train girls to serve in less than a month while most restaurants make you host for at least three to six months.  I applied to Hooters with the assumption that they wouldn't call me back.  

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

I'm also a secretary/babysitter.

I've been working at a police station 5 days a week for almost two years now and I'm still deciding whether to keep both of my jobs or continue on with only Hooters. The tips I get when I begin to wait tables will decide that for me. I meet some pretty interesting people at work and I enjoy writing about them.

My week so far:

Sometimes I really hate working at a police station when I have to sit face to face with a pedophile waiting to regis
ter. He had the nerve to say to me: "well I gotta take care of this, even though it's a pain." Most of these guys look like they could be my dad's best friend or my mom's brother. It's terrifying,

Some crazy goth kid just complained to me about the non-smoking ordinance in El Cajon, comparing it to Nazi Germany circa 1933-45. Then he saluted Adolf Hitler and "marched" away. really? REALLY? Yes please PLEASE pollute my air with your cancer sticks sir. And thank your for comparing my country to a fascist dictator's.

Is it wrong to get extremely frustrated with people that use their less-than-profficient-skills to speak or read english as an excuse to break laws and ignore rules that the rest of us are required to follow?? And then the expect me to excuse their tickets on that evidence alone? There is a 24X24 sign stating that what you did is illegal sir. No it's not my fault that you didn't have your glasses on. And now I'm very afraid that there are people like you driving without their glasses on and unable to read close-range 24X24 signs...

It's only Tuesday :o/


I just re-read this post and realized it makes me look like a crazy person... if you don't understand my humor; don't worry most don't.  Just know that I usually try to view the world and cope with life through humor... so keep that in mind when you read ANY of my posts.  Thank you.
Caution Blonde Thinking Inc.

Yes, like millions of preteen girls, I am a Twilight nerd. I've read the whole series twice and, when I can't sleep, I watch a grainy version of Twilight on Like the other red-blooded females, I "know" that I'm perfect for Edward in every way and even though Bella seems like a pretty cool chick she's just another brown eyed brunette. Not that there's anything wrong with that... and I know Edward says he prefers brunettes, but that's just because he hasn't met me yet ;o)

Ok ok I'll stop.

But seriously, some odd facts about Twilight that relate to my life and why my boyfriend and I are destined to be together. Besides my boyfriend sharing Edward's sexy bed head, gorgeous nose, and heart-breaking cheekbones, he was born June 3rd, which is the day after Stephanie Meyer began writing twilight. That date she began writing, my boyfriend turned 17. Edward's exact age! Coincidence? Maybe. Maybe not. My boyfriend and I started dating June 2nd 2007, five years after the exact date Stephanie Meyer began writing Twilight. Edward's birthday is June 20th 1901, making him a Gemini like my boyfriend and one year off of the year of the Tiger which is my boyfriend's zodiac symbol. Bella's birthday is September 13, 1987 which makes her and I both Virgos in the year of the rabbit. Thank god. Now I can sleep in peace knowing my boyfriend and I are star-crossed lovers destined to be together :p

Sorry Harry Potter. You're a kick ass dude but you're no sensual brooding vampire. I tried to google "Hot Harry Potter" and this is what I get. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have nightmares.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Candyman and the Cookie Monster.

I worked my first Friday at Hooters and I must admit that I prefer the black uniform as opposed to the "delightfully tacky" white, orange, and brown uniform.

The restaurant I work in has its set of characters. So far, besides those employed, I've met two. First we have the regular, I'll call him Joe. Joe comes into the restaurant every night. He knows all of the girls and makes a point to sit in a strategic location with a clear view of most of the restaurant traffic, and he usually stays for a few hours at least. The girls seem to like him so I'm guessing he tips well. Sometimes he even walks the girls to their cars for them. Joe introduced himself to me Friday night asking when I was going to start serving. I participated in his witty banter and smiled at him when I would walk by his table. Joe is at least 40 and still wears quicksilver and other brands popular with most preppy middle/high school boys. Maybe that's part of his charm. Part of me labels him a weirdo, but who am I to judge. I wouldn't let him walk me to my car late at night but on his defense he seems like a pretty ok guy.

Later on in my shift a rugged man, resembeling RAMBO in his latest film, power walked past the host stand with a duffle bag over his shoulder without even a glance in my direction. I looked at my manager questionably, awaiting some sort of action on his part. Instead he did nothing and continued with our small talk conversation like nothing happened. "Um, what just happened." I asked. "Oh him? He's weird... has some sort of bipolar disorder. He either hates you or loves you. He brings the girls he likes presents." And he left it at that. In the break room I met a girl who looked a lot like me, just more confident and a little thinner. She, like the rest of the girls I met, was one of the nicest girls I've ever met. I feel like I'm in a sexy and sassy version of the stepford wives. This girl gave me the run down of the job, like the other girls I've talked to (they all seem to like to take on the big sister role).
"So who's Rambo," I asked her.
"Oh you mean the Cookie Monster?"
"Uh, what?"
"Yeah he brings stuff in for us, like cookies and other stuff if he likes you."
"oh.. like that candy?"
"No, the candy man brings us that."
After my shift I ordered my grilled cheese and ate in the back of the restaurant where they werent seating people anymore. The cookie monster was sitting at the bar about twenty feet away from me and occasionally I'll look up and catch him looking in my direction. It didn't bother me like it did when Joe walked by and asked if I had any crazy plans for the night. No Joe. You're forty. I just worked a 16 hour day and I'm going to pull an "early" night tonight. We're not allowed to walk to our cars by ourselves, thank god, so I waited by the bar for a few of the girls to leave with me so the bussers only had to take a group of us to our cars instead of us one at a time. Then it happened. One of the girls said goodbye to Rambo and he completely transformed. A smile lit up his whole face and he wished her a great night and to stay warm. His harsh lined face looked brighter and soft and his eyes were kind and shy. He wasn't creepy at all. Just lonely. As soon as she left his side his face fell back into its original discheveled uninterested expression and I once again passed by him like I was nothing more than a breeze.

Name change

My blog is no longer called "Miss Amazing." I've switched it to the more appropriate "Caution: Blonde Thinking" after the delightful sign that graces the establishment where I was most recently employed.

Oh and P.S. I was talking to a guy about possibly purchasing a bad ass white jeep and he asked if my current vehicle was on the market, to which I replied, "well, I need to assess my financial situation first." His answer? "Woaaaah check out those words." *facepalm*. Apparently "assess," "financial," and "situation" are way above my reading level. Forget about all this car talk! Check out those gnarly words!

Friday, January 23, 2009

Caution: Blonde Thinking

Because I'm a nice person and traded shifts with a girl who needed Friday off, I get to hostess Thursday, Friday, and Saturday in a row while the boyfriend parties it up at the desert. I'm not really complaining though because I need the experience and the more busy shifts I get, the better the chances are of me training to serve soon. I still haven't told my current employers that I have a new job, so when my schedules conflict I have to call in sick or go home early. I'm such a wimp.

I walked into work already tired from working 7 hours at my office job. But I recognized one of the hostesses as the girl I ate dinner with on my last shift. YES! Familiar face! She was quickly stolen away from me to deliver food to tables when the managers realized that the rain had scared away our normal crazy thursday night rush. I didn't kick butt like I did on Saturday but the night slowly got better. The third hostess was a girl I hadn't met before. She had beautiful eyes matching her gorgeous chestnut hair that cascaded down her back in tight curls that would never hold in my hair and her skin was a beautiful milky white with perfectly pink flushed cheeks. She looked like a doll and had the energy of a chihuahua. I couldn't believe it when she told me she was a natural red head. That explains the milky-perfect skin. This girl and I hit it off. "I like you." She randomly said when I finally got up the nerve to chat with her. After our shift we got kids daytona chicken strips (mmmm) and gossiped about our day while she tried convincing me to do pageants with her. I knew it. She definitely had the pageant queen thing going for her. I'm really really starting to like my job. I've never been able to just sit down and do girl talk with someone I've just met. I think this experience it therapeutic for me.

Apparently I look just like another Hooters girl there because I've had a few girls start talking to me while I was changing in the dressing room only to look me in the face and exclaim "OMG you're not so and so!" I was excited when I got hired, but I was always slightly uneasy of the idea of at least 12 pretty girls working together for 4-6 hours at a time. Scenes from "MEAN GIRLS" flashed though my mind. But was I wrong or what. These girls are the nicest girls I've ever met. No one is mean. If you help a girl out, she'll go out of her way to return the favor. The managers can be a little scary, but you have to be when you're babysitting 80 little girls.

Let's see, highlights of today...? I had my first stupid pick up line from three indie guys that walked in. Indie guys?? In HOOTERS?? Yeah I couldn't believe it either. Usually those kids think they're too good for people like me that don't fall into a specific stereotype. Anyways, I had my first drunk man try and track me down with a Hooter's calendar demanding that I sign it even though I wasn't in it. One man started talking to me while waiting for his to-go order. While eyeing the calendar girls we have on our wall he said "would you want to do that?" "Not really." I replied. "Yeah, I wonder what happens to them when they get old. You look like you've got a mind to you." "Thanks." I smiled. But then I started thinking... what happens to most of those girls? They are required to be working hooters girls if they want to get in the calendar meaning they're just working stiffs like me. If they don't make it big is that their claim to fame? Hmm, I'll have to look into this.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Hooters day two

I survived my first weekend shift and day two as a Hooters Girl. I didn't recognize ANYONE from my first day on Monday but I tried not to let that intimidate me. As a San Diego Hooters girl, and I wont say which of the 5 locations it is, I am required to Hostess for about two to three weeks before I can start training for the floor. In this time I'm supposed to get my ABC and Food handler's cards, learn the floor plan of the restaurant, the sections, beer and alcohol menues, and get aquainted with the computer system via to-go orders. Oh yeah, and there are over 80 Hooters Girls at the restaurant I am currently employed at. I'm going to have to seriously kick some ass and get noticed if I want to start serving soon.

I arrived a t the host stand just in time to witness my manager chewing out the other hostesses. A wonder ful first impression of a Saturday night shift. Apparently one of the girl's voices wasn't loud (or an noying) enough and the other girl lost a table of 9, meaning he was blaming her for the groups deci sion to not wait the 25 minutes it took to get a table. Despite that hick up I caught on fast. They think I'm a super genius because I can count and easily find the real table on the floor when looking at the sectioned map at the host stand. Besides having to get my lock cut off my locker in the breakroom and someone walking in on me in the bathroom, mid tampon insertion, the night turned out pretty well.

I hate to toot my own horn but uh... "toot toot." I kicked ass. I deserve it. I didn't double seat anyone, turned around that host stand enough to get the manager to come over and tell us how great we were doing, and even pretended to care what the lonely and perverted middle aged men were talking about. I carefully evaded the not so hidden cameras belonging to adolescent boys, made friends with the other girls and even got my manager's approval. This is a big deal. No. Huge. Shy me; the girl who hid behind her hair in high school and could not for the life of me make direct eye contact with anyone larger than a fifth grader. My manager sat a smoothie down next to me and said as he turned and walked away, "I made this, now you can't say I've never done anything for you." I'm going to think of that smoothie as a sign of appreciation. A trophy kind of, for a night well done. Thank You :o)

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

I'm lazy

I just got back to this blog and realized how boring it makes me look. I said I was only going to post if I had interesting things to say... and I meant it when I said it, so now it's looking like I'm not posting because I'm the most boring person in the world.

Not true.

I still need to finish my New York Tale. I wish I kept up with it because so many interesting things have been going on. In fact, that is why I have NOT been posting.

Since my last post I've met the most interesting people, done the craziest things, read hilarious and amazing books, received intriguing propositions, went on a road trip from hell to New Mexico, and began my first shift at Hooters ;o)

All in all, it's been a non-stop, fun-filled overdose on life with pictures to go with it. So I will be updating this blog as I'm able to obtain these photos to help tell my story.