Wednesday, April 29, 2009

silver lining

My day was shitty. I felt sick. I offered to get bagels for the whole office and everybody had complicated and specific requirements. At Einstein Bagels I rattled off the whole order to the clerk, apologizing for my coworker's demands, as he smiled at me and told me not to worry about it. After I paid for everything, I moved out of the way and waited.
"Hey, you wanted the chocolate chip bagel right?" he asked while handing me the ginormous brown paper bag.
"Um, yeah, why?"
"Oh, nothing." He smiled.
When I got back to the office, I handed out everybody's breakfast and went back to my seat, eager to tear into my freshly toasted bagel. I opened the paper bag and smiled. Inside were two chocolate chip bagels. I only ordered one.

Thank you. You have no idea how that changed my day.

To the Einstein Bros Bagels sign... That's what she said.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Photographer crush

His name is Jan Von Holleben and he dreams of flying.

I have never before seen a photographer capture the innocence, fun, and color of childhood so accurately.

I remember feeling that free :o)

Most of our games usually had to do with a terrifying pit of lava or my best friend's older brother turning into a vampire.

We pretended to be mermaids in our pool and I wished I could breathe underwater.

I wished I could eat the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters. I bet he'd taste really good with some hot chocolate.

And grown ups were giants. And sometimes they could be scary...

My first dog was my best friend. She put up with more than any dog should really have to from a child, but I think she did it because she really loved me.

I miss the Christmas time when Santa was still real.

Monday, April 27, 2009


I am pretty sure I look nothing like Jennifer Aniston and I work in a restaurant full of guys who will do and say anything to get a phone number. But after being compared to her for the fifth or sixth time since my being hired, by entirely random guests and my coworkers, I am finally flattered. Another Hooters Girl agreed that I act very much like a cross between Jennifer Aniston and Lisa Kudrow. This is a huge leap from being previously compared to the trashy and slut-tacular Tara Reed. Yay!

I will always remember Jennifer Aniston's shout out to her then hubby Brad Pitt: "I love you man!" To me, she embodies a classy yet spunky flower child. I can only hope I come across as such. She also appeared in one of the BEST episodes of 30 Rock. WATCH IT. Either way it put a smile on my face.
I am so ridiculously sheltered. But my gangstafied little sister and my Hooters Girls are helping me.
Another word I learned at work:
"BEEZY" pron: "bee-zee"
Urban Dictionary defined it as a nicer word for "bitch".

Friday, April 24, 2009

I love good reviews

HERE is what our local party college, SDSU, thinks of the Hooters of San Diego.  Because although this picture is taken at "my" Hooters, the address provided at the end of the article is of another San Diego Hooters.  Oh and yes I am in this picture :p [photo by Jason Payne/Staff photographer with the coolest last name ever...]

Bikini Contest coming up... I'm not sure if I will be in it anymore because of my still swollen ankle and a few other things that are going on.  I am very bummed.  But the managers gave me 4 shifts this week not including the bikini contest.  FOUR shifts.  Usually this is reserved for trainers and our calendar girls.  So, I feel like I really should do the bikini contest because I really really don't want to let them down.  At a place like Hooters it's really easy to feel dispensable, with so many girls coming in daily to apply, but my managers really take the cake.  Especially my GM.  He is so number oriented I love it.  He knows how to keep our work atmosphere fun, but productive.  [He makes fun of me for being a nerd all the time, but secretly I know that on the inside he is a bigger nerd that even I am.]  Also, when I call in to explain that I am not feeling well and I need my shift covered, my managers don't bitch and whine about it being an inconvenience to them, they actually ask me what's wrong.  They relate a time when they had a similar problem.  They wish me a speedy recovery.  But most amazing of all, even though they  have between 80-90 girls they're keeping track of, and this isn't including the kitchen staff, they ask me how I'm feeling when I get back.  Yes, with everything going on, they still have the brain capacity left to remember to REALLY care.  I really want to make them cookies or something.  Hmm.  

Monday, April 20, 2009

My creative side

I have decided that I am going to make a big effort to illustrate my own posts. I am finally able to afford oil paint so I may even use color. I'm afraid of color by the way. It's permanent in ways charcoal and graphite are not. I think I will also showcase other artist's creations as well, when I don't have the time to make my own.

I love this heat

The majority of San Diego is pretty good at keeping their indoors well air conditioned. While most of the time, our "weather" is at or around a constant sunny and warm, we do have our heat waves. I think that term describes it perfectly. I stepped outside of the office today and a wave of heat swept over me. But while everyone else complains, I revel in it.

As long as I'm not doing strenuous exercises out in the heat, I feel that there is something luxurious and foreign about it. Maybe that's just my English/Northern European roots talking, but the wet and cold feels like home to me.

I love the way the heat closes in around me, bathing my face and moving my loose clothes and hair. I automatically feel like I'm on holiday. It brings me back to Spain. I think I was sixteen. I don't remember the name the locals used for it, but there was a heat coming across the Mediterranean from the African Sahara. It filled the unairconditioned homes and woke the mosquitoes. Luckily my grampa's house was only a short walking distance from the sea. I miss the wide brimmed hats and loose white dresses. The fine sand was warm under our feet and the water was cool, coming towards you in soft small waves. Everything was within walking distance. Wednesday was market day and the air felt clean and pure.

I miss the architecture. Everything was painted a beautiful clean white, that looked blue in the shadows. The never-ending stairs. The flat roofs. I felt like I escaped into a cave when i'd come home from the beach.


Is where I am hopefully going this summer.

Last week my dad asked me where we should go for our next vacation.
"Really? I thought you'd say something like canoeing the Colorado river or something..."
"Well that would be a lot cheaper."
"No, that's not what I'm saying, I think Italy is a really good idea. It just never crossed my mind that we should go there."
"Dad, Italy is just one of those destinations you have to go to."
"Well, I guess it's settled."
"Really? You mean it?"
"Yeah, let's go."


Saturday, April 18, 2009


So I just thought that this would be a great topic since it is relevant to super hero Hooters girl life and my Clark Kent girl next door life.

My boyfriend dated a young girl a few years back. You know, the first puppy love type thing. Long story short, there was a ton of unnecessary drama which ended up trickling into the current relationship my boyfriend and I have. Very uncool. Despite this girl having had a boyfriend for AT LEAST six months before the boyfriend and I got together, we would get sobbing voicemails from her well into our two year relationship. It was like clockwork. Every two to three months. Either a call or she would show up somewhere on "our" turf. Be it stalking his truck club website he is a part of or driving by his work to offer him Jamba juice. She'd lurk on our myspaces and bitch about us to her best friend (also my friend). If that wasn't enough, she'd text and email my boyfriend, trying to rekindle their "friendship." Can you see the horror unfold? Basically, I tried to be cool with this chick, I put on my absolute best behavior (which rivals mother theresa by the way :p), we even got coffee together to make sure everything was peachy, but for some strange reason she had it out for me because her ex fell head over heels with yours truly. My boyfriend finally told her off, took her number out of his phone, deleted her myspace, etc etc. Good for him.

But wait. That girl is an ex hooters girl. The ex hooters girl of my hooters restaurant. The ex hooters girl that gave my boyfriend nightmares of ever dating another hooters girl. Flash forward three years. I am telling my boyfriend that I'm picking up my Hooters Uniform Monday. No answer. I think he was in shock. But being the amazing sweet heart he is, the next day he called and apologized saying that I can do what ever makes me happy.

But wait. That ex hooters girl didn't actually have to battle through the millions of other hooters girls that apply daily. Even though she was also underage, a general disadvantage when applying at hooters because you have to be at least 18 to waitress, she was able basically come right on in and pick up her Hooters Uniform. Why? Because her older sister is a store manager.


I know right? It just keeps getting better!!

No, it really does. In a good way. Her older sister now manages a Hooters in a different location, but her boyfriend is pretty good friends with my boyfriend (since they were dating the sisters at the same time), and we often go out together. Drama? No way. She the yin to her sister's yang. She's easy going, includes me in conversation, and basically emits no drama what so ever.

But there is that ever present pang in the back of my brain that knows, that at any moment, the evil sister could show up. And of course I'd be civil to her. While she paraded around shooting desperate glances at my boyfriend. Sigh.

Friday, April 17, 2009


life throws you a curveball.  a major, life-altering curveball.  

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Fun Days

Fun double days are one in a million. By double days I mean the days where I get up around 7 or 8 to work my 9-5 job at the office and then frantically scramble to my 530-? job waiting tables. Today's second half of my double day started off with section picks. This is a term we hooters girls use for the whining and bitching over who gets what section in the restaurant. Today there were eleven of us not including the bartender, hostesses, busboys, cooks, or managers. Half of the girls threw in their section picks. "Section picks" are pieces of paper we earn after completing a number of preset tasks by the end of a shift, such as 3o table visits, a certain amount in sales, and a certain amount in merch. Going above and beyond can also earn you a free pair of coveted pantyhose. Earning a section pick is very self explanatory. It means that the next day you come into work, you can throw out a section pick to get a section if you see another girl eying it. When too many girls throw in section picks, the rest of us are left with games and other contests to determine who gets to pick next. Most of the time they're games of chance. But sometimes our managers like to test our brains. This is my favorite. Not because I like to show off, but because I LOVE to see what the other girls come up with. Last time we had to name the most dictators. (on our own pieces of paper secretly of course.) Our GM's name came up more often than Hitler's. See here.

Today was even better. We had to name north american mammals.

"What is a shark?"
"A fish."
"So, a whale is a fish too right?"
"No that's a mammal"
"But, wait what? They live underwater!"

"What's a mammal? Brittany, what's a mammal??"

"They don't live in North America."
"Yes they do! They live in the zoo!"

"Card?" asks my manager reading from one of the papers. "Do you mean cat?"

P.S. I won of course :p

Sunday, April 12, 2009

I feel like a badass

When the computer asks me a question and I check that little box that says "do not ask me again." It just sounds so firm and final. My computer is my bitch.

Friday, April 10, 2009

But Home is Nowhere

"You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you can put your stuff that idea of home is gone."
"I still feel at home in my house."
"You'll see when you move out it just sort of happens one day one day and it's just gone. And you can never get it back. It's like you get homesick for a place that doesn't exist. I mean it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I miss the idea of it. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place"

New Theme.

It's so much better than our old theme and I'm very excited. Sunday, as you know, is Easter. And at Hooters we're encouraged to wear bunny ears and tails :D AAAND there will be an Easter egg hunt at 2 for the kiddies! I'm so excited. Oh and P.s. kids eat free Sundays... And we love adorable, well behaved children.


I'm still sore from snowboarding and I still need to edit the pictures from my Mammoth Snowboarding Vacation. That's what the next post will be about.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

But he knows...

how to make everything better. And I realize all of the stupid little things don't really matter.

Wishful Thinking...

In a way, I wish I remained anonymous. Then I'd be able to really write. There are things I can't just talk about on here. I can't really vent about my jobs or I could possibly be fired. I can't release frustrations I get from my boyfriend, his exs, or even my closest friends. I'm not perfect and neither are my relationships and although I love those near and dear to me I hate feeling like... I'm trapped in a way. I don't want to hurt your feelings. I don't want to give an ex of mine or my boyfriend's the satisfaction of knowing that they've hurt or frustrated me in some way. I'm sick of creating this "perfect" me so I can conform to the social norms. I'm tired of spending almost an HOUR of MY day getting pretty for YOU. I'm tired of "trying" to get into the colleges YOU want me to get into. So I can fall into some profession YOU can brag about. I love you. Everything you've done for me. But can you stop making me feel so worthless when I CANT reach that bar you've set for me?? I don't want to lie to myself anymore. I can't tell you of my frustrations with certain women... girls I have to remain on good terms with, for everyone's sake. It all builds up inside. And I can't say anything about it. I can't lower myself to their level. I'm tired of knowing that although I can have the most amazing conversations with you... any of you... that because of your anatomy... and when everything boils down to it... I'm still just an object. I'm tired of being afraid that If I open up and say what's really wrong, that it's going to change things for the worse. I'm tired of caring so damn much about everyone else's feelings. I'm tired of being happy brit. nice brit. Full of smiles and ears and hugs for all YOUR problems. I wish I could say: DON'T FUCKING TALKING TO ME YOU DISGUSTING EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN. I wish I could just be me. "Weird" normal me. I've almost reached my limit here. You know it does hurt when you make fun of me and tell me i'm strange because you can't understand why I don't want to be just like you. I can't be so nice forever. I can't keep going up... there's got to be some ceiling I'll eventually reach. And I'm afraid of what might happen when I do...

I'm tired of knowing everyone's weakness. Of being trusted never to approach it. Never to push their buttons... while they'll carelessly brush over mine. Bumping into me. Pushing me.

And the funny part is... anyone I really WANT to read this...well... they all have better things to do.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

I Am Extraordinarily Clumsy

Yes, unfortunately grace is not one of my redeeming qualities. I can dance. I've taken ballet, salsa, swing dancing, "hip hop", and Irish riverdance(hush I was 8 and didn't know any better). I can be graceful when I'm supposed to be. But when it comes to naturally moving around, it can be disastrous. The other day, after finally convincing my boyfriend to go on a 5 or so mile mountain hike with me, I twisted my ankle. Not 50 yards from my car. Comparatively, the hike UP the mountain is much more strenuous than the hike down, so, to compensate, my boyfriend and I decided to run down. Of course I fell. But it was conveniently near my car and an adorable shaded stream where the best boyfriend in the world held me until I, or should I say my pride, felt better.

I will be headed North to the Mammoth Mountain Resorts with my family and friends this Saturday with a sprained ankle for some long awaited snowboarding. FML.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Signed up

For the bikini contest that is. I felt I needed a better incentive to get in shape for summer. I'm really not planning on winning, seeing as I'm probably one of the few with natural boobs entering the contest. I won't tell you the theme until afterward, but I've got a few good ideas thanks to the boyfriend. But I'm a little nervous now after talking to a good friend who had done it a few years ago. Apparently it's done pageant style. At least my boyfriend gets to sit at a table with all of the other boyfriends. Wish me luck!

P.s. this is NOT an April fools joke. Jerks.