Monday, July 27, 2009

Job Hunt

No I haven't been fired. But after a little chit chat I found out that the bf doesn't exactly like the fact that I work at Hooters. News to me. (Really bf? You tell me this seven months after my hiring??)

Originally I thought it was the fact that his somewhat scandalous ex girlfriend had worked there and it left a negative image of the Hooters girl. I figured he knew I was different. And he does. He just doesn't like the fact that guys don't always go there just for the wings. Understandable, I told him. But as a young, somewhat conventionally attractive female, I'm going to be looked at regardless. I go surfing, kayaking, wake boarding, beach hiking, etc all in my bathing suit. Guys stare. Guys catcall when I'm not with another male. Sometimes, they catcall when I am. I just figure, why not profit from it in some way.

My best friend lives in an apartment complex on a busy street with limited parking, so when I want to visit her I almost always have to park across the street. Every time I cross, someone will yell from their car or honk at me. Yeah, it's gross. Yeah, it makes me uncomfortable. Yeah, I try not to go there after sunset. Today when I went there to feed her dog for her, wearing a completely zipped up track suit that covered my entire body, and I was honked at. It was not even ten thirty in the morning and I didn't even have to cross the street this time. Guys are just horny. Being a girl is definitely irritating sometimes. Especially when I sometimes feel like I should have been a guy. A few weeks ago, the bf and I took his brother's dog with us to go hiking up the nearby mountain trails. After parking on the busy street, I opened the back door to get the dog. While bending over to snap on the leash, a car full of young males yelled out "Hell yeah baby!" in unison. The bf was three feet away from me. (He made me promise that next time I will yell back: "IN YOUR DREAMS BITCH!" Oh honey.)

Bottom line is that as a young female, guys are going to look. No matter where I work, I'm going to be hit on. It doesn't mean I'm anything special. I just happen to have boobs and a vagina, and men seem to like that. But, because it's a comfort thing for the bf, I will begin my search soon downtown. No, I wont be quitting Hooters. I enjoy the relationships with the girls and the proximity to my home. But I will be severely cutting down my hours. To equal what I make at Hooters, I'm going to need to apply down town. Wish me luck.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

I love summer.  

Monday, July 20, 2009

The Slut Rule

I picked up my NEW pair of orange shorts on Saturday. The old shorts are now history at my location and although they did make my butt look nice, I am very thankful. These shorts don't look like doll clothing when not streatched to max capacity on my body. They look like REAL shorts! I can even fold them! These new shorts are completely different from our paper thin ones. They have an actual thick band, a little over an inch long, that minimizes the "muffin top" look. Aaaand they also resemble actual shorts instead of an adult diaper, with tube legs at the bottom. (I don't know if you can see them very well, but the girl on the right is wearing the new shorts properly)While signing the slip to prove I received my free pair, I began to read the paper below it, which informed me that the company is in the testing stage of a new "cropped" uniform top. WHAT??

Ok, that might be going a little bit too far. While growing up, I feel that I had developed a very clear understanding of the unspoken "slut" rule. There are three major areas of the body a woman can flaunt: cleavage, legs, and tummy. To keep from being labeled a "slut," a lady may choose ONE of these areas to bare, unless of course this is Halloween, a very hot summer, or she is participating in athletic activities; which would then enable her to choose TWO areas. Unfortunately, she still may be labeled a slut by other jealous females and jaded males. THREE areas are unheard of, unless you're in a bathing suit with the intention of bathing or sunning one's self, standing on a street corner, or employed as a brand whore. (aka the women that dress scantly in hopes of selling you something, making a vehicle look more attractive, etc)

Really Hooters?? All THREE areas? One of my managers tried to explain to me that those "tops" would be mostly worn at the beach locations. True, the shorts are considerably longer, but at least these cropped tops won't be required.

Bad Person

Am I a bad person for not particularly liking small, yappy dogs? I love animals, it's just that small, yappy dogs are small, yappy dogs...
I'm confident enough to say that most animals LOVE me.
Horses, (real) dogs, cats, birds, strange animals at the zoo, anacondas...
But for some reason, my boyfriend's mother's 2 rat terriers and 1 Chihuahua bark EVERY TIME I walk in the door. Scratch that. Every time ANYONE walks in the door. Then, they start barking at each other because they get pissed that they're barking. Yuck. (And I'm afraid to show any appearance of not liking them because she calls them her "kids." Her Kryptonite is anyone who is very obvious about liking her dogs.)

P.S. Did you know that in Chihuahua, Mexico, Chihuahuas run wild in packs of up to 50?? YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP!! (X50)

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Cranky Pants

I feel so helplessly lazy right now.  I've had the last THREE days off in a row because I only work one job and I didn't feel like picking up any days.  I've been a pretty good saver lately so I'm definitely not hurting in the money area but I feel so useless!  All of my friends work during the week and have weekends off, you know, like normal people.  So here I am, getting ready for my FIVE  hour shift as slowly as possible, while everybody is getting ready for the gay pride parade and other shenanigans.  I don't like this "new" me.  She's very boring.  I think I'm PMSing because this is definitely not who I am used to.  

On a happier note, I'm taking Elle to Los Angeles tomorrow because she has never (EVER) been!  Ok Elle, I understand you were born in Wisconsin, but you moved here when you were FIVE!  And as my best friend, you have no excuse.  I am very excited for all of that touristy stuff :o)


p.s. the fact that I actually found a photo of "cranky pants" just made my day

Thursday, July 16, 2009


Oh I'm kidding, but the coolest thing to ever happen to a serial blogger happened to me just this last Tuesday.

It was the dreaded ALL YOU CAN EAT WINGS night. Throngs of cheap families poured in. Personally, I think this is the best deal you can get at Hooters, so I often invite my friends and boyfriend in on this day if I happen to be working. Awesome deal for them, and waiting on a table or two of friends means a table or two of less bullshit, which equals an awesome deal for me. Well, apparently TACO TUESDAYS sounded like a better deal to my friends so I was stuck with a full section. I know, "wahhhh! such a hard life I live." But getting to the cool part; I chose the smallest section in the back in hopes of getting cut early and making it to the midnight showing of the new HARRY POTTER flick. Yes, ever since receiving HARRY POTTER AND THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE for Christmas during middle school, I have been a devoted fan.

While running around the restaurant, delivering wings and beers, I noticed that a table was in the process of being sat in my section. I finished pouring out a pitcher of beer and ran over to my table with a sheet to sign my name on. "HI! My name's Brit and I'll be taking care of you toni..."
"Are you THE Brit with the blog?"
Pause... "Yes...."
"OMG I love your blog! I read it all the time...!"
"WHAT!! No way!"
And we hit it off. That is probably one of the most flattering things that has ever happened to me. It was her boyfriend's birthday and so they came in for some wings and beer. Obviously, if you read my blog you know I work in San Diego, and she just happened to come into MY location, asked for me and BAM! Seated in my section! I tried to chill at that table when ever I could, but as always, I managed to get a few asshole tables.

As a server I am required to be nice to everyone. As a Hooters girl, I am required to go above and beyond that. It can be emotionally draining when a table treats you like shit when you're acting like they're the king and queen of this establishment.
"Hey guys can I get you each another beer?"
"Yeah sure thanks!"
"Same thing?"
"Uh, yeah!"
-twenty minutes later-
"Alright guys here's your check! I'll be your cashier so let me know if I can get you any change or if you need me to swipe your cards for you!"
"Um, excuse me, but you charges us for extra beers."
"What? Oh I'm so sorry, let me check really quick... well it does say two beers each..."
"We only have ONE beer each."
"Um..." I paused... Were they being serious? I'm not an idiot. They couldn't be drunk off two beers each. I only have three other small tables so I distinctly remember asking them if I could get them new beers. They even had two glasses each on their table before I cleared it off and brought their check. "I'm pretty sure I brought you guys a second beer each." I tried my best to look firm.
"No. You didn't" They weren't going to play fair.
"Ok... I'll go grab my manager so we can fix this."
How I WISH we could have reviewed the cameras. At that moment, I would have given anything to see my manager walk up to them and tell them that we had proof. Then maybe they'd think twice before trying to screw over a waitress. Because I know that type. They're the guys that come in and KNOW that if they bitch enough about anything, they'll return home with a few comped meals and a couple coupons for next time.

As I was taking care of my tables, I watched as a poor Hooters girl tended to one of her tables.
"We'll have ONE order of all you can eat wings and five waters." Said the father.
"I'm sorry sir but our all you can eat wings are per person. However, they do come with fries and they're unlimited!"
"Fine, we'll get two. Mine will be medium and hers will be BBQ."
"The rest aren't eating?" She sweetly inquired.
After the meals were brought, they began running her ragged, demanding more wings in ridiculous quantities. The others were obviously eating the wings, doing so in front of her with a smirk.
"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to charge you for additional orders of all you can eat wings."
"Well we're only paying for ONE."
"But you've already ordered two."
"SO. Bring the check and I'm leaving money for one."
The manager was brought into the situation.
After the manager went over there at least three or four times, he eventually comped the second meal, but let them know that they couldn't bring a box to put the wings in to take home. As my poor friend returned to the table with the check they laughed in her face, silently insulting her. I went over to console her, but being a good sport, she giggled and whispered that they actually threw the remaining wings into their purses. Without a container. GROSS!!

I ended up missing the midnight showing of Harry Potter, but my new blog-reading friend made my night. After they left, leaving an awesome tip by the way, my manager walked over to me.
"Hey Brit! I just wanted to let you know that table 8 thought you were amazing. They told me that she was a server as well and that he was a chef and they absolutely loved you. LOVED YOU. Good job Brit."
The best people to wait on are servers themselves. They understand how to behave and they have their own awesome stories to tell. I REALLY hope she gets her own blog. She was hilarious and easy to relate to. Basically the makings of a great blogger.

Alright everyone, I've got to get ready for the 7:00 pm showing of Harry Potter ;o) I'm NOT going to miss it this time.

Monday, July 13, 2009


Because I've been feeling a little culturally deprived in good old San Diego, my boyfriend and I have decided to set a date for a real adventure. And so let it be known that I, brit, will be leaving the united states early next June for the uber cliche: EUROTRIP! According to my Google analytics, I do receive a decent amount of traffic on this blog, so why don't you share your wealth of knowledge with me? Tell me about you Euro wows and woes. I'm planning the itinerary now. We're thinking of spending approximately 3 weeks in Europe.

I hope to hear from you!

Thursday, July 9, 2009


I really love that the color of my post titles is actually called "spaghetti." I saw it when I was wasting my time messing around with the html.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009


As you might have noticed, my blog looks...well... different.  It's summer time in Southern California, so I felt I should use that vibe to spice up my rather blank page.  BUT, while going through ALL of that annoying html mumbo jumbo to try and make my blog a THREE columned one, I clicked save, and nothing happened.  IT STILL LOOKS THE SAME!  Does anyone know of a code I can just paste into my layout just to get it over with?  This layout is just not working with my new, spiffy background.  The flowers are running down half my sweet reads, about me, and coworkers section.  HELP! 

Tuesday, July 7, 2009


I was walking as fast as I could without it being considered running. I was breaker, and I just took on a handful of needy tables, all terrified of being forgotten about while their server was on break.
"Yes, I've only taken on Cinderella's section." *Smile* "So I've only got you and a couple other tables until she gets back! Of course I won't forget about you!" I'll reassure them as I notice their blank stares looking through me, desperately trying to find their server. Only they wont find her, because she's in the break room. Eating. Like you. It's nice isn't it, eating.
"This is for Buttercup" a stuffy old man will say, handing me a credit card.
"Well of course it is! I'm only the lowly breaker!" Tonight. While every other night I'm here. Serving. And I have my own, much nicer tables. It doesn't matter how many times I say: "Everything goes to Buttercup! Right when she gets back from her break!" They always assume I'm the lying, cheating bitch that left them for the pool boy three years ago.

"HEY!!" shouts the clearly intoxicated ex-marine from another girl's section.
I stop in my tracks. I'm juggling at least 10 dirty plates laden with sharp utensils.
"Whaareee ya from??"
"Um, here." *Smile!*
"Naaaw yeeer not!" he stammered.
"Oh I am." *Smile!*
"Yaww look li'ek yer a southern beeeeeauty!"
"Nope!" I cheerfully reply. Still balancing the plates. He was clearly not a southern gentleman.
"I'd tell you whaaah but I shouldn't!" He began to giggle.
"Ok then!" And I used that as my exit strategy.

Next table.
"Would you like any dessert? Our peanut butter pie is amazing!"
The man just looks at me. His friends are beaming at him.
"We've also got chocolate mousse cake, cheesecake, and our equally tasty key lime pie if peanut butter isn't your favorite!"
Still no movement. I wait for a moment. Our eyes locked. I'm about to step away with the plates I've cleared from their table when he begins to lift his hands. He looks me up and down and begins to make a kneading motion. His friends burt into fits of laughter.
My smile begins to fade, "Ok, the check then."

My favorite section to break was a table of at least 30 Australian teenage baseball players and their 10 chaperones. I literally spent the entire time taking individual pictures with each blushing boy and each liquored-up chaperone, and circled the huge table and side tables repeatedly refilling drinks and bringing on the alcohol.
"Alright everyone, Ariel will be back from her break any minute! She let me know that she knows exactly how you want to be cashed out, so you'll have your checks any time now!"
"Oh brit! You don't haff to leaf us due you!" They all shouted in their adorable accents.
"Of course I'm not leaving you! You'll just have your Ariel back too!"
Oh I adore being appreciated.

the sweetest thing

Because nobody on myspace enjoys reading, I've taken the liberty of deleting all of my blog posts on that social network and pasted them here.  They're not posted yet, but I will slowly release them during those moments when my muses have decided to go on holiday.  Because this Tuesday still feels like Monday, I'm going to post a happy bulletin.  This is a letter a friend anonymously sent me.  I had been having a tough couple of weeks when this anonymous email popped up in my inbox, and although I later figured out who it was, it made my day(s). Sometimes people just need a little uplifting every once and a while.  Already have the summer blues?  Why don't you set aside five minutes and write a letter to someone you really appreciate.  As corny as it sounds, go knock their socks off.

"I wont embarrass them by saying who it is, unless they of course comment saying they did. But all I have to say is now THIS is how you make somebody's day. I'll be smiling about this for the next couple of years lol. THANK YOU"

"Before you go Tupac, I have some things I'd like to list off about things i appreciate about you.
you're fun, energetic but not annoying, you try and its apparent, you're always down for a new experience, you have a "you only have one life" type of mentality that ROCKS. you're a pleasure to be around, you don't complain often, you seem generally pleased about life, you have an excellent out look, you take good care of yourself and everyone can tell, you have a coolness aura about yourself that is envious, you're accepting but not stupid, blissful but not ignorant. you know what you want out of life its just been difficult getting there, but you are persistant. i think you're one of those people that i could count on if i needed help, and i don't even know your last name. you're caring and you show it in your eyes, angelic i suppose is a close word to describing you. you're fuckin brit dude.

hopefully these cheer you up, you are important and have a boat-load of things coming in your direction so take them on like a Spartan and enjoy your motherfucking life!"

Monday, July 6, 2009

The Truth Behind Stereotypes

They exist for a reason. Unfortunately, because I look like I just stepped out of a Hitler youth club meeting, I am forced to grin and bear all that is thrown upon me or be met with threatening glares as my guest digs into their wallet searching for their minority/obese/single parent card to flash at me so I may be labeled a slanderous bigot.

I know the poor, inexperienced hostesses are unaware of the headache they cause as I helplessly watch them fling a group into my section that the entire restaurant staff will instantly stereotype despite years of being trained not to "judge a book by its cover."
"Daaamn that sucks," a busboy will sympathize.
"Not a much as our tip-share will," bemoans the rest of the staff.
"Does this look real?" I'll ask the nearest waitress, trying my best to replicate a smile, which is unfortunately, "the most important part of the uniform."
"Almost." They'll reply.

The Jewelry Box

After giving my room a good spring cleaning, I began rearranging a few things in a way that would look more aesthetically pleasing. I picked up my old jewelry music box, one of my most favorite possessions, given to me by my first boyfriend early in high school. He was one of those guys who was really really good at giving sentimental and meaningful gifts. I opened the box and the music began to play while I looked through all of the little mementos I kept inside. A christmas tree ornament with our initials engraved on it. A silver charm from a necklace my step grama gave me in Spain. A rose petal from my corsage I wore to prom. An unfaithful promise ring. An un-charming charm bracelet. Two shells from the first shot gun I've ever fired; a WWII russian beast that threw me back almost off my feet. A few movie ticket stubs. A few notes. The tiffany necklace my mom gave me for graduation. The tiffany necklace my boyfriend gave me for my 21st birthday. And then I realized something was missing. Something that didn't deserve to be in there in the first place, but I had just been too torn as to what I should do with it. I'm not sure if I could even say I dated him. Worthy of being mentioned in Psychotic Letters From Men, he is someone I have absolutely no desire to ever see again. With good reason.

It was last year and my boyfriend and I were on the rocks. I'd escape to my best friend's house for refuge when the arguments became unbearable. I'd bring along with me movies, a drawing pad, and beer while my best friend, whom I will call "Elle" from now on, and her then boyfriend would cheer me up. They'd always have friends over so it was a nice distraction. Both of them had a favorite tattoo artist who would come over and give them awesome deals on their many tattoos. I had met him years before and he seemed very decent.  He had a long term girlfriend, was into classic cars; owning one himself, and he presented himself well.

I should have noticed the shadyness of their tattoo artist friend from the beginning. I learned he had some what recently broken up with his girlfriend, and he began spending even more time with Elle's boyfriend, who soon began to express an irritation in him because he'd decline invitations until he found out that I was going to be there.  At first, the romantic in me was touched by these little attentions, and after the final break up with my boyfriend, I caved, my heart demanding a distraction to keep my mind from going insane. We first started hanging out with the promise of him teaching me how to tattoo, which he never did. It was fun at first. Just going out to movies, getting late coffee and talking, just as close friends. Although I wasn't attracted to him physically at all, I allowed a relationship to develop, after I found out my ex began dating a complete piece of trash, but I would have done anything to keep my mind off who I was really in love with.

That is when I began to notice something a little bizarre. I had ignored the early warning signs: the fact that he was about 6 years older than me, still lived with his mother, and was most likely a virgin.  But when the after-shock of my post-breakup freak out passed over I began to open my eyes a little bit. We weren't even dating when he bought me a necklace that he wanted me to wear all the time. He found out I had a facebook in addition to a myspace and demanded to know if it was true. Incredulously, I answered in the affirmative, and he accused me of having a lover via that social network when he read some witty banter in comment form between a good friend and myself. Another huge hint that he didn't get out much because it was quoted straight from ANCHORMAN. After that he continued to break up with me multiple times a week, showing up in tears late in the night to apologize and out of pity I would take him back.  He'd beg me to let him tattoo me, throwing out the crappiest tattoo ideas, even after my dad threatened him, saying that if he ever put anything on me there would be trouble. (Love you dad.) He'd demand that I lose contact with my long time, strictly platonic male friends, who had been a huge help in distracting me from my break up with gym, beach, and party invites. After following the advice of many a worried friend and my freaked-out sisters, I began to slowly break off contact with him. I started declining invites; not answering his calls or texts. I figured a normal guy could take a hint. [[*forshadowing*]]

My dad has a huge party at his house once a year, where all his buddies from elementary school, middle school, and high school come to our house (remember we have 5 bedrooms, 2 living rooms, and outdoor sofas on our back patio... so we can technically sleep about 15 comfortably without blowing up mattresses) for a reunion-extravaganza. They even make t-shirts and pitch in for kegs. Oh yeah, and I'm not allowed to be there, which is fine with me. The boyfriend and I had begun to patch things up, so I was staying at his house while this debauchery was occurring at my place of residence when I realized I didn't bring enough clothes with me. No problem, I thought. I'll just head over in the early afternoon, when they'll all be awake or hopefully out surfing or motorcycle riding. As I pulled up to my house, I froze. HIS car was there. I slowly walked up to the door and opened it. As I did HE let out a disgusting belch while holding a beer, shirtless. I ran upstairs. WHAT THE HELL. My mind screamed. I grabbed the needed goods and went downstairs.
"Oh hey!" he smiled nonchalantly.
"What are you doing here??" I demanded through my teeth.
"Oh they invited me in."
Nobody was talking to him. Half of the guys were gone including my dad. So I just left. I couldn't believe it. Later on my dad would tell me that he just showed up, obviously looking for me, and invited himself in. He asked if he could join them and some guys felt bad so they said ok. He showed up for three days after that. The final day my dad told him he couldn't come in. I was mortified. My boyfriend was pissed. While my boyfriend and I fell in love all over again, hewould continue to barrage me with calls and texts. I ended up leaving the state to get away from him. New York. When I came home, I resumed my life and the boyfriend and I started to officially date again. Elle eventually told me that crazy found out I came home and was confused to why I hadn't contacted him to tell him this. I sure can pick 'em.

A month later the boyfriend and I attended a house party. It was huge and we had to park blocks away. While walking up to the front door the boyfriend laughed.
"You won't believe who I see in the window."
"Nooooo..." I moaned. Although I couldn't see who he had seen, my gut knew. We walked in and half the party screamed my boyfriend's name and ran over. (I'm sure this fueled the fire.) The place was filled with his old friends so I hi-tailed it to the bathroom to think about what I was going to do if crazy came over. I took a deep breath and walked out.

He was gone. Apparently the boyfriend had actually gone as far as saying "Hey what's up" to the creep and shaking his hand. I love my boyfriend. That action caused crazy to run for it, we have no idea where, but about an hour into the party while I was in the bathroom, the owner of the house came over to the bf and said, while apologizing profusely, that a good friend of his was very uncomfortable with him there and that he had to ask him to leave. The bf obliged and told me the news. Laughing hysterically, we grabbed our friends and headed to another good friend's place for an after party. Before we could pour our first drink, the bf began receiving text messages:
"It's a good thing you left, because my friend was going to kick your ass."
The bf didn't respond.
"Yeah, I've seen him fight before, he would have knocked you out."
The bf and I started laughing, but he continued to receive text messages similar to that. So he called the unknown number.
"...Helllo??" said a little voice.
"Have you been texting me?" Asked the bf.
"No...?" she sounded confused.
"Did you put your phone down by any chance?"
"I let my friend borrow it because they couldn't find their phone."
"Ah, well you might want to make sure you know who what kind of person you're giving it to. Have a good night."

Thank goodness it ended there. All I can say to that is, what a little b*tch. 

I put the box back on my dresser and texted the bf.  
"Hey, it really doesn't matter but I'm really curious, did you take anything out of my music box?"  I knew he didn't, he's not that type of person, but just incase I had I thought I'd ask.  Fortunately for me, he's the type that can't lie.  It's cute really, I can ask him anything, and I'll see that mini battle going on in his head as he looks embarrassed and admits all I want to know.
"No... is something wrong?"
"Not at all actually, it's just that something I've been meaning to get rid of sort of got rid of itself."
"Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?"
"Yep ha"
"Oh, well, good :o)"

I love a happy ending :o)