Caution: Blonde Thinking

Ghosts of boyfriends past.

2010-06-29T21:07:00.000-07:00

(this little gem was left on my car years ago)

It's that time of the year again here in San Diego. You know, when the bathing suits come on and the relationships go off... This is a college/military town. Everyone is constantly surrounded by hot, young bodies. So it's only natural for minds to wander when these hot, young bodies become less clothed.

So, after a rocky-yet-wonderful three years, I find myself single again. Only this time, it's different. I've grown up. Yes, of course I miss him. Yes, of course I still cry a little - it really hasn't been that long since we called it quits. But inside I know that together, where he is in his life right now, we couldn't be happy. I couldn't be happy.

I still don't have complete closure. I still have to pick up a few important things and return a few important things. We're still friends on facebook although I've selected the "hide" button when it comes to his updates. It's hard to see him try and replace me with lesser versions of myself. One of them even shared my name. That had to have been weird. But that's not what this post is about. This post is about realization and empowerment. It's about learning from your mistakes and bettering life. So i'll start from the beginning.

EVERYTHING I'LL EVER NEED TO KNOW IN LIFE, I'VE LEARNED FROM MY EX-BOYFRIENDS.

1. Be honest with your parents. They're going to find out sooner or later - and honestly, seeing as they've most likely grown up in the 60's and 70's - they've probably done much, much worse.

2. Never, ever turn a person into your everything friend. Yeah, I know, they're great. But I'm pretty sure the saying goes: "don't put all your eggs in one basket." That saying has been around for ever. Trust me, old people know everything.

3. It's ok to have the same friends. But make sure you both have your own friends too, because if and when shit hits the fan, you'll need back up that doesn't have to think twice about who they're going to back up.

4. Doing everything with just one "special" person is lame. It's comfortable. It might feel fun. It might feel right. But it's not. It's boring.

5. Talking your dad up to sound scarier and meaner is a good thing.

6. Don't fall into a routine, but if you have to, spice it up every once and a while. It keeps life interesting.

7. Hobbies are important. They make solitude manageable for those that detest it and even more wonderful for those that enjoy it.

8. Competition should never be anything more than friendly.

9. People get comfortable with handouts. That means they don't appreciate it anymore and they've come to expect it.

10. Never become a sugar-daddy or sugar-momma under the age of 35 because you're working just as hard as they are.

11. Your place is never, ever too far to be picked up from if you're good friends and your car isn't working.

12. An able-bodied person does not "NEED" marijuana to deal with basic life. When my dad "needed" alcohol to deal with it, my mother left him.

13. You deserve to be spoiled now and again because you deserve it.

14. Nobody can love a person who kisses their ass.

15. Never do something just because somebody else wants you to. Do it because you want to.

16. Don't be too available. It makes you seem more interesting and it forces you to be more independent and live your life.

17. If someone doesn't respect perfect strangers they probably don't respect you.

18. Never put someone on a pedestal. Everyone has flaws and from that high up they can only let you down.

19. If you don't live together, don't get a pet together. That's just basic common sense.

20. If someone is abusive to you once - be it physically, verbally, or mentally - they can be abusive to you again.

That's it for now. But because it was so much fun to write, I'm sure I'll write a sequel. I had a long day of surfing and hiking so I'm hitting the hay. Miss you all and I love all of your blog posts, comments, and emails. G'nite.

I have way too many hobbies.

2010-06-28T23:44:00.000-07:00

Let's see. Since I've last posted anything on this blog, I've left my not so great relationship, taken up the ukulele, started playing electric guitar with an old flame, become a bartender and a kayaking tour guide in the beautiful La Jolla of San Diego, bought a pretty decent Nikon with the intention of taking up photography and making my memories more beautiful, started surfing again, and met a whole lot of new people.

I'm going to go into more depth soon. I just haven't had the time to update this blog. I miss all my bloggers. I've been keeping up with all of your posts and I'm glad you're doing well. It's just that without an office job, I find it difficult to sit in one place long enough to write about me without wanting to pick up an instrument, learn a language, or enjoy the world some how.

P.S. I'm only going to use my own photos now :o) Unless I'm going to show off someone else's work.

New Love

2010-04-07T21:33:00.001-07:00

I was recently enjoying dinner out with the family when a certain musician caught my eye.

Her name is Nena Anderson, and besides her amazing solos, she has two very talented bands: Brawley and the Neverout.

http://www.nenaanderson.com/

*EDIT*

After a few minutes of cyber stalking this talented and cute artist, I realized we worked together at a popular 50s diner in San Diego. She's actually the reason I was hired.

Just fresh out of high school, I had walked into what was then my absolute most favorite restaurant EVER, with a manilla folder containing my resume and my best friend by my side. We were seated at our table and a cute brunette waitress skipped over, throwing straws at us and introduced her persona. (We all had personas at that restaurant, complete with goofy names from the 50's or 60's to go with our poodle skirts, bowling shirts, and ridiculous wigs.) For some reason she liked my nerdy-nervous-overpreparedness and grabbed the manager as soon as she saw an application on the table. And that's pretty much how I got my first job in the restaurant business. And the rest is history.

Imagine my shock right now. I've been listening to her music all evening and my family found it difficult to leave the restaurant while she was playing because it was so haunting.

Destiny? I don't know. But I'm dragging my friends to see her at the next bar she's playing at on the 15th :o) Brawley will be playing and I can't wait to get my swing on.

Noiiiiice

2010-03-30T22:49:00.000-07:00

Normally, every second of my day is filled up with some kind of job or school or extracurricular activity. So, it's only natural that I feel a little... lost and restless at the moment since I am currently jobless, in between school, and snowed in for days in Mammoth Mountain Ski Resort. Not that I'm complaining about the accommodations.... Huge condo tucked in the side of a Mammoth Mountain ski trail.... three bathrooms.... gorgeous rustic/modern feel (I know it's almost impossible to picture that, but I'll post a few pics on here later to give you an idea of it's awesomeness).... large communal hot top with a seating capacity of EIGHTEEN. Yeah, definitely not slumming it by any means.

Snowboarding has still been absolutely epic. But the 70-90 mph winds at the top of the mountain has kept quite a few of my favorite lifts closed and me stuck on our side of the slopes. So during the 24 hour day I get about 4 hours of snowboarding in, which is all the weather, my eyes, and sore muscles will permit. That leaves me with a lot of extra leisure time. So far I've watched Zombieland, Terminator Salvation, The Matrix, New Moon, and Whip It.

And I just want to say how awesome it was to see Landon Pigg in that movie, Whip It. His music is awesome to chill out to. And I'm pretty sure that statement was whole purpose of me pulling up CAUTION BLONDE THINKING and shooting out a new blog. I know most of you think "WHAT A SELL OUT!" when they see an artist become an actor or visa versa, but I really think it's cool. Yep.

I need to get out of this cabin.

I quit

2010-03-30T17:35:00.000-07:00

Wow it feels good. Never again will I be forced to squeeze into coarse panty hose and tight little shorts. I haven't worn a push-up bra in a week and I don't plan to any time in the near future. Absolutely never again will I sit silently while management and Hooters girls judge and criticize hopeful applicants.

"OMG," whined the frumpy hostess, "the manager keeps hiring the ugliest girls!"

"Really?" replied the other girl in the break room.

"Yeah, and he hired a FAT girl yesterday."

"WHAT?? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, well I mean, she's not fat but, for a Hooters girl she's ENORMOUS."

Disgusting right?

How about this:

"Hey (name of manager)!"

The manager pauses for a second and without returning the salutation she replies with "You look awkward today."

The mortified Hooters girl ran, horrified, into the break room and spent half of her shift fussing over any 'imperfection' she may have had. She's gorgeous. And that was wrong.

My favorite hostess recently quit, in tears, because management felt she wasn't physically living up to the "Hooters Girl Image." I and the rest of the girls have no idea where this insult came from. This girl was a pageant winner; gorgeous inside and out.

Our location was the training point for Southern California. At least for most of the restaurants nearby. And we were something somewhere around the 4th largest grossing location in the world. Hopefully that paints a picture of how insane it can get during event nights. I always felt sorry for the new 'trainee' managers. Usually staying in a hotel or with friends if they're lucky enough, these managers in training have no allies nearby. Working 12 hour shifts to receive the same amount as the salary-paid managers, they are pushed to edge of their sanity. I seemed to always be there when the trainees had their mini break downs. Management and girls would talk down to them, criticize or humiliate them publicly, and use their naiveté to their advantage. I asked every one of them how their store ran and each replied solemnly with the same answer: "Not like this."

Hooters was in no way a terrible place to work. But everybody is human and everybody makes mistakes. 90% of the girls were awesome to work with, but there were that 10% that made me wonder who had so horribly screwed them over in their past/present that made them decide to take out their frustrations on anybody within a ten foot radius of them.

It was a good run. I saw a lot of good and bad come and go. I'm glad I was given the opportunity to be a world famous Hooters girl for fifteen months. The money was good, but waitressing really isn't for me. And neither was the constant blending of waitress/entertainer. I think it was the new uniform tops that really helped me finalize this decision. I always try and ask myself, "what would my parents/little sisters/bf think?" For the most part, they thought it was hilarious. But I knew I could never face them baring my chest, ass, AND midriff. And I didn't even want to think about the extra unwanted attention I would be receiving.

Most of all, Hooters gave me confidence. People called me beautiful. Management complimented my hair and attitude. The other girls made me feel smart. It was wonderful when things were good. But it's time for me to grow up now. I gained what I needed and I did the best that I could. Next week, after I get home from Mammoth Mountain Ski Resort, I begin my job hunt at my local hospitals as a Certified Nurse Assistant. It's not the most glamorous job by any means, but it comes with dignity and the hands on experience needed for Nursing school that starts this fall. :o)

I will never forget you Hooters.

love forever,

brit

A Letter To My Dead Girlfriend

2010-03-03T21:03:00.000-08:00

It has been a rough year darling. The ethereal power of Craig's List will get this message to you I am sure, like in some sort of cheesy 80s movie.

Well back to the last year, you of course died at the beginning of it which put things to a sour start. I spent last night with your mum and dad, we went to that Italian place in Wicker Park, who on the surface seem to be coping. I had everyone get together for my 25th which went well, your ladies are on top form and I think some engagements are brewing. Ellen is turning up the heat on Steve who will soon be forced down to one knee as you predicted.

Last weekend I finally took the step of cleaning out your clothes from the closet, which is very barren now. I invited your friends over to take your what they liked, it was an awkward session. I think they took them more as a favor to me than anything else. Liz cried when we pulled out all of your shoes, Miranda joined in and then Catherine broke down. It was strange to stand in our bedroom surrounded by three crying girls. I made a joke about them crying for joy at the prospect of some free Manolo Balhniks which they didn't seem to find very funny.

A few girls have put the moves on and as you know picking up women is not a forte of mine. It seems the grieving boyfriend seems to be a good angle. Who knew! I went on one date and spent it talking about you, the poor girl. You would have found it quite witty I think. No other dates to report, I am going against your orders to move on for now.

I found one of those hair tie things that somehow managed to squeeze into every crevice in the apartment. It was under the bed. I sat on the floor holding it and cried. Until then I had held everything together but it just all came flooding out.

Every morning when I wake up I forget for a fraction of a second that you are gone and I reach for you. All I ever find is the cold side of the bed. My eyes settle on the picture of us in Paris, on the bedside table, and I am overjoyed that even though the time was brief I loved you and you loved me.

Love,

P.

El cochino

2010-02-10T23:12:00.000-08:00

The teenager exits the pool finally, when she realizes the heat of the day is gone and a soft breeze floats in from the mediterranean. It feels good against her wet skin. The solitude feels good. It's twilight now and everything is so still. The harsh daylight is replaces by a gentler glow of a full moon, changing the white washed plaster walls to a cool blue. She walks, lazily from the pool steps to the open shower and turns it on, letting a spray of fresh water hit her shoulders and flow down through her hair. Her hand rests on the handle while she hesitates and let's the day wash away from her sun-kissed skin. Even with the water rushing over her ears, the surf is still audible, relaxing. She stretches down and slowly rubs the sand from her feet. Somewhere she hears a bird call. Strange for sundown, she thinks, slightly started from her trance.

"Brittany!" Her mother calls from the doorway. "Get in here please!" She steps out and towards her daughter, wrapping her in a fresh towel. As they walk back through the garden, she shoots a warning glance at the large man next door, and he smiles and continues his phone conversation in relaxed spanish, slipping the video camera back into his pocket.

Undercover Boss

2010-02-10T15:36:00.000-08:00

http://www.cbs.com/primetime/undercover_boss/

Monday

2010-02-09T11:17:00.000-08:00

I forgot my pouch in my car. You know, the "pouch." It's that brown thing (or black if it's friday) we tie around our waist to hide our camel-toe.

Because I was one of the three opening girls on this rainy monday, I was allowed to go back out to my car to get it, as opposed to buying a new one.

After my 5 minute sprint, I came back only slightly damp and out of breath.

"Like, how are you NOT cold? It's freezing in here." Complained the blonde while we sat at jumpstart, pulling her sweater even tighter around her bronzed shoulders.

"I just spent the last five minutes running." I replied, assuming that statement would be enough.

"So." She accused.

"So I was wearing sweats and a sweater. And NOW I'm wearing panty hose and lycra."

"..."

"You know, like when you go to the gym and it's cold out, but when you leave it doesn't feel cold anymore..."

"Yeah..."

"It's like that."

"Wait, running makes you not cold?"

It's good to be back.

I'm BACK. AGAIN!

2010-02-05T12:07:00.001-08:00

Let's see, since we've last spoken...

I've purchased my very own taylor guitar, co-picked out by Mr. Bob Taylor himself. (Happy Dance.)

I was rescued from a bunch of weirdos by a member of a band I hear on the radio regularly at a high profile show in my home town. Although, upon googling him, I discovered he had dated a "singer" I don't particularly respect who had her own show for a while, he was actually quite the gentleman, letting me hang out with the rest of his band in their tour bus and getting me back to my best friend, unscathed, in the restricted zone. Pretty cool evening. He still regularly texts me.

I've been brushing up on my French, Spanish, and Japanese for my Eurotrip that's coming up in June. Well, the Japanese is just for fun.

I sprained my wrist going off a "sweet jump" on the slopes and was unable to wait tables for nearly three weeks.

I completely re-vamped my bedroom. Before and after pictures will be going up soon.

And I'm sure I'm forgetting something, but I've begun my nursing classes. Well, my real nursing school begins this September, but in order to obtain my 6 months of hands on work I'm taking a 2 month, expedited course that will allow me to work as a certified nurses assistant (yuck) and only need 4 more months of actual paid hands on work before September. Nursing school is 'hella' expensive (I would never actually say that out loud, but it's the actual wording that came to my head... and that's what i get for chillin' with the nor cal girls at work.) so I'm going to have to work my butt off to foot the 50K tuition. But hey... you're looking at an RN in less than two years. So I'll do anything to get closer of my adult/realistic dream of being a traveling nurse and eventually a nurse practitioner.

Yep. That's the past couple of months in a nutshell :o)

I miss my Hooters Girl Bloggers.

Douche bag of the Week

2009-12-25T01:12:00.000-08:00

I stumbled upon this gem in a completely irrelevant Google search:

"In my now famous rant, Hooters sucks, I explain why the Hooters restaurant here in New York City blows ass. A Hooters Girl saw my rant and took the time to email me the scattered words in her head that she calls thoughts.

Here is her (cleaned up) email to me... (It was littered with punctuation and spelling errors and rambling "sentences.")

"Dr. HogWild",

I have been a Hooters girl for 4 years... and counting. I work at one of the original 3 in Orlando and LOVE every minute of it. I came across your article and I would like to comment back... I understand, yes, guys EXPECT to get a girl with big boobs. It's Hooters, I get it... But they do not only hire on boobs...

It's nice when we actually find girls with personalities also. I mean considering most guys that come in are coming in for entertainment and someone to talk to... lonely guys that most likely have no social skills. So I sincerely think that most of the guys coming are not looking for a huge rack but some attention that they will lack anywhere else.

And WHY do we do it? Because we get paid to be nice... We get paid to act fake... We get paid to come across interested in your pathetic life.

To critique all of Hooters saying the "talent" was awful... is going a little too far. At the many Hooters restaurants I have worked at I never have seen horrible talent. We sing, dance, hula hoop, even barstool rodeo.

You say that the food sucks... No sh!t we are not a 5 star restaurant and never has Hooters tried to be... if you're looking for amazing food with a robot as a server then go to somewhere else. We serve wings, burgers and salads. Do you honestly think we can f*** that up? Maybe you just have become too picky in your time and your expectations are beyond what we serve. Besides that you want to see big t!ts... you really have no clue on what Hooters is about.

- your fellow Hooters Girl

I wrote her back:

Hey Hooters Girl!

First of all, I appreciate you taking the time to write me! Who said Hooters Girls can’t write!
HA HA HA!

All I can say is this... Come to the NYC Hooters and you will see what I mean. The girls on a Monday night were ugly and out of shape. Now, I had been to this Hooters before on a Friday night and I went out with some of the girls after they got off their shift. Those particular girls were very pretty, in great shape, very friendly, and they even bought me drinks at the bar.

But management must have let those girls go because they were replaced with ugly girls and a g@y dude.
AND... I went on a date with a girl who used to work at Hooters. She worked there to make money WHILE IN COLLEGE.

HINT: College is where you go to get an education. It’s like Wikipedia but with professors.

And... Guess what? That former Hooters girl... She had big Hooters!

I don’t care what YOU think Hooters is about. Hooters is about what the CUSTOMER thinks it’s about. Hooters is supposed to be a relaxed atmosphere restaurant where you get good chicken wings, sports on the TV, and waitresses with big boobies.
At least this Hooters had the sports on the TV.

Calling a restaurant Hooters and then not supplying Hooters is false advertising. The only false thing in Hooters should be the fake boobies in the girls' shirts.

The food is incredibly overpriced in the NYC location and it sucks.

I don’t expect 5 star dining at Hooters. I expect good food and hot girls. Not bad food and waitresses who look like they’ve been taking too much advantage of the employee discount.

As for you being “a Hooters girl for 4 years and counting...” Is this your proud achievement? If you aimed any lower, you’d shoot yourself in your aging, sagging breasts.
Look, I’m not saying I’m hot but I don’t work in a restaurant called Studs. If a girl works at Hooters she should have nice Hooters.

It’s sad that most of your customers are “lonely guys with no social skills.” I’m sure Hooters would love to have that as their slogan, “Welcome to Hooters! Safe Haven for Losers!” Maybe this is why my local Hooters has employed sub-par women, because they know their most loyal customers can’t do any better.

When I used to go to Hooters it was with a fun-loving group of guys to watch a sporting event while enjoying beer and wings. But apparently “our type” is not welcome at Hooters any more since you only cater to dorks who want to “get to know” the waitresses.

I said, “the food sucks” you said, “No sh!t...” Well, that sums it up. No, I don’t expect amazing food. I expect good food. After all, you may not realize this, but you work at a RESTAURANT.

HOOTERS NEW SLOGAN: “Our Food Sucks, Our Waitresses are Ugly, and the Customers are Losers!”

You also misunderstood something I wrote in the article. When I said there was no “talent” amongst the waitresses, “talent” is slang for hot girls. No guy cares that you sing, dance, and can use a hula hoop. (Although the girls I saw that night would have got stuck inside the hula hoop.) If you are a Hooters Waitress, your talent is your looks. The end.
I have friends who are hot girls and they are waitresses and bartenders. But they have a big enough brain to know that they were hired for their looks. And they are working hard, making money, and saving up to go to school or to pursue their dreams.

Apparently, you have no dreams.

You said, “We serve wings, burgers and salads, do you honestly think we can f*** that up?” Surprisingly, yes. My favorite part of your poorly written rant is this...

“We get paid to be come across interested in your pathetic life.”

HA HA HA! A girl whose highest ambition is to successfully deliver a plate of food without dropping it is calling OTHER people’s lives pathetic! HA HA HA!
Here is what I suggest for you: Accept that you are doing the best you can for a girl whose IQ is lower than a parking lot speed limit.
I respect people who work hard and are doing the best they can. But you strike me as a girl who is underachieving and lazy.

Because you actually probably DO have a brain in your head. And you probably COULD do better for yourself but you have limited yourself to working a crappy restaurant for the rest of your life. After 4 years of cleaning up barbecue chicken parts and waddling around in bright orange shorts you have probably risen up in the ranks to become Assistant Manager in charge of Wonderbras. And that’s great. But ask yourself...

“Can I do better? Do I want to be a Hooters girl living in Orlando when I am 42?” If not for yourself, do it for your 6 or 7 children who are on food stam

ps.

- Your fellow Hogsta who loves intelligent, hard working women"

My thoughts and hopefully yours as well:

Not only is this guy a completely douche, but he's a complete douche who thinks he's intelligent. The reality for this poor sucker is that he's at the exact same caliber as the waitress he's squabbling with. The post entitled "I pissed off a hooters waitress" screams for praise like a kid managing to take a shit in the big kid toilet for the first time. While his first post [http://www.hogwild.net/Rants/hooters-sucks.htm] was slightly more coherent than his unfortunately un-witty response, his actual reasoning that Hooters must have been "much better" back in the day is solely resting on his dad possessing a Hooters V.I.P. card "back in the day".

(V.I.P. cards are given out free of charge regularly. Contrary to popular belief, Hooters is a restaurant, NOT a strip club, and these V.I.P. cards do nothing more than save you a couple bucks here or get you a free appetizer there if you make Hooters your regular go to joint. Anyone can obtain one. Most people just lose them.)

He also suggested that, because on a previous Friday evening the women were much more attractive than on a more recent Monday visit, management must have "let those girls go and were replaced with ugly girls." Hooters doesn't hire "ugly girls." They hire all different kinds of girls because, well shucks, different guys are attracted to different things. However, some girls are obviously more conventionally attractive than others, so it makes sense that management would schedule the "prettier" waitresses on a busier evening as opposed to a slower one. I also found it slightly entertaining that the d-bag felt it was necessary to explain that he went out with the "hot" waitresses after their shift. Along with later mentioning that he personally knows other hot Hooters waitresses. I can only assume this is another pathetic attempt to add to his credibility and make him feel more superior than the Hooters Girl he's addressing, but fellas, that kind of talk only raises suspicions . Unfortunately, some of the girls will go to GREAT lengths to get a good tip, and it's relatively easy to get a table free drinks.

(although a good Hooters waitress shouldn't, especially when she knows corporate cameras are on her at all times.)

I also find it remorseful that experience has led me to believe that he is most likely fabricating a large portion of his story. It would be much more plausible that he waited until the ladies he fancied were off the clock, and followed

(stalked)

them to their after-work-chill-out bar of choice. Hey, it's happened.

(and will continue to happen.)

Because I too am a Hooters girl, I feel it is my duty to stand up for the poor girl he's chosen to make himself look like a complete idiot in reply to. Look man. Most Universities take about four years to graduate from. Hence the FOUR years she's been employed at Hooters. Don't begin assuming that she actually enjoys serving neanderthals like you for a living, with no plans of self-improvement.

(that's a real trip huh)

Finally, to address the apparent confusion of our brand name, I feel that I must point out that there is no fine print located anywhere around the sign. Nowhere does it say "BIG Hooters" anywhere on our store front. It's just plain Hooters, and all chicks have them. Calm down. Get a hobby. And yes, please PLEASE go/stay at Hawaiin Tropic.

Anything. Just don't come back.

That is all.

Where the Wild Roses Grow

2009-11-24T20:02:00.000-08:00

Things have been... difficult lately. I feel like I'm standing in the eye of a storm, watching my thoughts and dreams lifted by the ferocious wind to encircle me. I almost have no time to think before I can reach out and grab just one. And I'm not sure if even that is good enough. Not anymore. I've never really found my place in Southern California. I mean, I love it and it's beautiful and everything. There is just something missing. It's when I'm on the road that I'm the most alive. Europe is just six months away, but I know that isn't permanent. The memories will be, but is that enough?

2009-11-11T18:42:00.000-08:00

I open my eyes suddenly and experience a fleeting moment of confusion that sometimes accompanies an awakening. I roll over on my side and my face presses comfortably into my pillow.

Why am I awake? What woke me up so suddenly?

As I reach for my phone, it vibrates again. A text message? What time is it even? I unlock it and squint down into the bright screen. 4 A.M. Becoming more irritated by the second, I open my text messages to see that my disturbance is an unknown number.

"What the hell..." I start.

"Do you have 10k or more in credit card debit?" It began. "Our debt relief program CUTS your payment and total debt by over HALF. No upfront fees. May we contact you?"

Unbelievable.

It's love

2009-10-26T23:21:00.000-07:00

"I need to feed my hubby so I'm bringing some wings home." I joked with a manager.

"What did you call him?" He had stopped what he was doing just to be able to look at me while he asked this question.

"...Hubby?" I responded. I'll admit, I was a little worried I had said something wrong.

"Does he know you call him that?" He asked.

"Um, I don't think so. I've only really called him that a few times, and usually just when I'm talking to my girlfriends. Why?" I still didn't understand where he was going.

"Good." He said as he turned back to the computer.

"What do you mean; 'good?'"

"I just wouldn't say that around him if I were you."

"He's actually not that kind of guy."

"Well, for his sake, don't say it in front of his friends."

I love my managers, and I love that we're all involved in each other's lives, but sometimes I hate how narrow minded everyone can sometimes be. Most of the people I work with at Hooters are jaded, and with good reason. The male managers are constantly surrounded by whiney, self-absorbed girls; watching them run though boyfriends like they run through pantyhose. Gender stereotyping runs wild in this environment, which is why I sometimes feel like I stick out like a sore thumb.

"Hey, the computer didn't print out my meal time start check." I once said to my manager after they revamped our system.

"It doesn't do that anymore. We're saving paper. I thought you of all people would appreciate that."

"What's that supposed to mean."

"Well... er... you know... you're all.... natural."

"... Thanks."

Or my favorite... after a little chat with one of my mangers:

"I know what you are. You're... eclectic." He said, looking very pleased with his vocabulary word. Which was the first word somebody had ever used in the place of the more common adjective that is associated with me... 'weird'. Well, once in high school, a guy I had a crush on said "You're totally different from the way you look like you'd be."

But either way, I've learned to take these as compliments.

Getting back to my main point... the managers are usually jaded, and the girls are usually about as deep as a paper plate. As I left the restaurant, lugging the 20 wings... naked... daytona of course... I dialed my boyfriend's number.

"Hey babe!" Said the cheerful voice on the other line.

"Hi hunni!" and the normal pleasantries ensued.

"Something kind of funny happened today." I began.

"Like what?"

"Well, I called you my hubby when I was talking to my manager and he told me never to tell you that I used that word to describe you."

"Awwwww you called me your hubby!"

That was his reaction. And it was pure glee.

When I arrived at his place of work, wings in hand, his coworker called out, "Hey Kevin! Your wifey is here!"

Ha.

urban

2009-10-23T10:37:00.000-07:00

Los ángeles. The city of Angels.

A stale, yellow smog oozes up from the filth, shrouding the once picturesque mountains. The boulevard of broken dreams drowns in it's broken stars while the derelict crawl to you on their broken knees, begging for the change that feeds their demons. I think about this as I sweat on the hot leather seats. The tint isn't enough to shield my skin from the burn and there is no escaping the sun in this traffic. I can only hope we creep along faster than the semi just ahead, and I can doze in its shade.

Memory Lane

2009-10-21T23:13:00.001-07:00

Do you ever have those moments, where something in your environment sets off this chain reaction, throwing you into this mental course that brings you to a screeching halt somewhere down memory lane? And where ever it takes you, you become filled with some vaguely familiar emotion that has such an effect on you, your mind is consumed. Information is so readily available in this present world. I almost wanted to open up my lap top and google this feeling, so I could surround myself with it. Pictures, articles, music, anything. But you can't. Not with memories. You'll have to find everything out the old fashioned way.

Gooooo TEAM!

2009-10-20T16:36:00.000-07:00

I have never felt like I belonged to such a tight knit group before. I can now honestly say that Hooters has changed my life. Are you shy? Do you have a hard time making friends? Do you need motivation to stay in shape and take care of yourself? If you answered yes to any of those questions, apply at Hooters. I'm sure each location is different. While reading fellow Hooters Bloggers (see side bar under "coworkers") I've learned that some locations have car washes while we don't. I've learned that it is easy to become a bartender, while at my location there is a waiting list. But every Hooters seems to have that same spirit.

I've never really been a "girl's" girl. I've never had that baby-sitter club group. Girl scouts was on and off for me. Instead of playing a sport for school or cheerleading, I grabbed a surf board, wake board, or snowboard and spend time with nature. My dad was very strict and I had an 8:00pm curfew on school nights and a 9:00pm curfew on weekends until I graduated high school. So I spent a lot of time drawing, reading, or playing musical instruments. While I always had friends, a best friend, and a boyfriend, I didn't have that "circle" everybody seems to have on tv. Hooters changed this. While I'm not "bff status" with any of the girls, I feel like I belong. We put up invites in the break room for parties; everyone is invited. We'll go out for breakfast before putting up with the football rush. Closers go out for drinks after work. Sunday day girls go out for happy hour down the street. Last Sunday was a baby shower and "we" have another one coming up next month. Friday I'm taking two girls surfing in the morning, and then in the afternoon, we're heading over to another girl's pad for a pumpkin carving party. BYOP. Girliness has never been so much fun before :o)

How serving ruined my dining experience

2009-10-18T14:31:00.001-07:00

Occasionally I read a post that feels like it was pulled straight from my own head. You probably know what I'm talking about. It's that little moment you have where you feel like somebody can finally understand your pain and torment. So here's a little tasty treat from one of my favorite bloggers... Take it away, Bitchy Waiter!

"Occasionally, The Bitchy Waiter gets to go to a restaurant and have someone fuck up his order for a change. After nearly a score of waiting tables, (as in four score and seven years ago...), the dining experience for me is almost always uncomfortable. I want to help the server; I stack my plates, I never complain, I over tip and God forbid I go out with a large group of people who want to push tables together and all be on separate checks. When I eat out, I spend the whole time overcompensating. Waiting tables has ruined the experience for me. But I went out to dinner a few nights ago.

There was a craving for Chinese food in the homestead so I Googled, Zagated, and CitySearched until I found a place that was highly recommended. The reviews for Hunan Park were good and the price was right, read cheap. It was little bit out of the way but I was feeling adventurous. Why not? Off to the Upper West Side I shall go! With address in hand and salivating for some good orange chicken, my dining partner (none of your beeswax, busy bodies) head to Columbus Avenue and 70th Street. When we get there, we go back and forth on the supposed block and see nothing that serves egg rolls. Every other ethnic restaurant is on that block but not one fucking Chinese place. We look up the address and realize we are standing in front of it, but it is now some lame ass deli that I applied for a job at about three weeks ago. What the fuck? Did Hunan Park up and leave? Never fear, there is another location on 91st Street, only twenty blocks up. We trudged ahead. At 91st street, nuthin'. A grocery store, a post office and a homeless lady who may or may not have been Chinese. We call the mysterious Hunan Park and they say "No! No! Ninety-fifth Street. Five Five!" Four more blocks and we finally behold the wonder that is Hunan Park; the magical mystical Far East heaven that has made me travel all the way from Queens to a neighborhood I didn't even know the name of. Hunan Park was a dump.

"Well, Zagat gave it a 9 for decor but a 19 for food. It must be good. There's no one here though, that's weird." As we ignored every red flag that was waving before us, we stepped into a place that may as well have been next door to me in Queens. Zagat can not lead us astray, could they? There was an old man sitting at a table with headphones on and a pile of food in front of him. He looked like he could be a close personal friend to the homeless lady at 91st Street. The only other people eating were employees on this fine Friday night. We sat "anywhere" and a waitress threw some water glasses and some chips with duck sauce at us. She looked like she was in a real hurry, like she must have been in the middle of giving a manicure to someone else at the same time. She came back about ten seconds later and said "you ready?" We politely asked for more time so she moved about two feet away from us and stood there staring at us. No pressure or anything, Fawn Lawn Young. It was only 9:30 and they didn't close until 11:00 so I don't know what her fucking hurry was. Maybe it was Chinese New Year or something and she needed to go build a dragon mask. We ordered an egg roll (greasy and possibly frozen) and vegetable dumplings (I didn't try them because they were green and I don't like green food) for our appetizers. I then ordered pineapple chicken because they didn't have orange chicken. It came out as some doughy fried chicken with about six cubes of canned pineapple next to it. And a huge bowl of sauce that may as well have been called High Fructose Corn Syrup with MSG. Across from me, my dining companion had a plate of Moo Shoo Chicken that was said to taste like dish soap. Again, I didn't taste it because I don't like food that tastes like dish soap. The only decent thing we had were the two bottles of Tsing Tao beer. Perfectly prepared, they were.

The check came along with an orange slice (fancy!) and fortune cookies. I wrapped up my chicken because even though it was horrible, gummy, disgusting and I thought it tasted like shit, a homeless person might want it. We put down $43 dollars and left. No one else came in the whole time we were there except for a group of three who walked in, looked around and left. And another couple who picked up some food to go. Zagat was wrong. They lied to me and owe me $43. How long will it be before I am ready to again venture to the other side of the menu? Days? Weeks? Hunan Park and Zagat just made this bitchy waiter a little bit bitchier."

Merch Queen

2009-10-16T11:33:00.000-07:00

With the economy continuing to sag and business dropping, the fearless leaders (managers and possibly corporate) have decided to step in and boost sales with merch.. i mean "souvenirs." Unfortunately, I suck at it. I can't even sell a Hooters brand lighter for peat's sake. I'm just not a sales person. I feel bad trying to get families that can barely tip me to splurge on shirts for the whole crew. I can't help it. I just feel silly doing it. So now, to motivate us, management has decided that our schedules will reflect our merch... i mean "souvenir" sales. One of my buddies who happens to be one of the "merch queens" told me she actually brings the shirts up to the table during her pitch. Evil, but genius. Does anybody have any advice for me? I like my sweet set of hours that coincides perfectly with school, and I don't want to lose them.

words can't bring me down

2009-10-14T22:59:00.001-07:00

I wash my hands and clean my nails, pulling any dirt out from under them.

Clean.

The oily make up remover melts off the mascara and the cleanser polishes. A little stream of blue toner disappears into the cotton ball and I can feel my skin tighten just slightly. Next comes the anti-aging moisturizer and the night-time eye cream.

Because you’re never too young to start.

My skin is soft and pretty. The freckles are barely visible but they’re there. My naked lips are the perfect pink and my cheeks are bronzed from the sun. My hair is pulled back into a tight pony tail and the baby hairs framing my face are pale and delicate. My green eyes smile back at me. The aqua and yellow flecks are brought out by the deep blue ringing my irises. I smile back and the creases in my cheeks look happy.

I’m happy.

And I love myself. And I think I’m beautiful, just the way I am in my naked skin.

For the first time in my life.

Beautiful

2009-10-09T23:28:00.000-07:00

The one on the left is eight, the two in the middle are seven, and the two sharing the mic on the right are six.

This makes me happy.

Oh my fickle friend

2009-10-09T20:06:00.000-07:00

Everybody has them. They're the friends that see you as a stepping stool; a kind of emotional lift, if you will. They're the friends that call you to ask how your weekend was only to interject halfway through your first sentence in a pathetic attempt at bragging of their own, rather mundane, existence. They're the friends that will use you as their own personal sounding board, and you'll sit there a silent agreement as they pour their sad and "unfixable" stories upon you. But god-forbid you should propose the sticking idea that they just may be the root of the problem. Still, they feel no reason to hold back regarding your feelings. Hmm. Why do you keep those friends...

Sometimes it sucks being a nice person.

My totally awkward tuesday

2009-10-07T15:38:00.001-07:00

I'm walking from the food window to my tables, plates of wings in hand. Right now, I am at my most vulnerable. It is the dinner rush, the music volume is at it's loudest, and I have both hands completely filled. It is important to state that my mobility is greatly impaired, meaning it is difficult to suddenly stop or swerve. This is why I must again preach my 5th commandment: THOU SHALT NOT BLOCK THY HOOTERS GIRL. Because I failed to include running into, bumping, or tripping your hooters girl, I was punished for it.

The table was in sight and I could see that another friend had joined them. As I approached the table and was beginning to think to myself that I needed to ask her what she would like to drink, the tallest man in the party decided to jump OUT of the booth and into the isle way, which was, unfortunately, exactly where I was standing.

The wings, once again, became airborne. Flying in all directions, the majority of them landed on my other tables, and on a man wearing primarily white. When I heard the last, sickening thud, I froze. What does one do in this type of situation? Laugh? Apologize? Cry?

I closed my eyes for a few seconds and then pulled out my tide pen, handing it to the girlfriend of the poor sauce-covered, white-wearing man. After apologizing profusely, I grabbed my manager.

The assaulting table never went above a giggling apology as I brought them their new plates of wings. They also proceeded to chase me around the restaurant, battling over who was able to treat the others to dinner.

So please accept this amendment to my 5th commandment.

I can take it

2009-10-05T18:05:00.000-07:00

A brief summary of a day in the life of the average young woman.

10:45AM "Niiiice boots." said one of the bros in a group of five young adults on my way to my Physiology lecture. "Smokinnnnn" I can hear them stop walking and turn in my direction.

12:15PM A group of three athletes become over-joyed when they spy a tennis ball on the ground and pick it up as I walk towards them on the way to my tennis class. One apologizes for stealing a ball that could have potentially been mine. They begin singing a song: "Ohh tennis girrrrrl..."

12:25PM Walking to the tennis courts, I am forced to pass very closely by two different male athletes and the heckling begins. "Heyyy tennis. Mmmm! Tennis, hey!"

12:45PM My normal tennis partner is absent and I am propositioned by two different men to be their tennis partner. I actively avoid a third who has already tracked me down on facebook and asked for my number.

1:30PM I'm walking to the office where my best friend works, carrying a huge bouquet of roses and star gazers that I am surprising her with for her 22nd birthday. "Baby, I'll get you more than roses." Begins the man as I hurredly pass by.

1:50PM On my way to a discounted medical supply store, I try to pull my shorts down as the man in the truck next to me tries to smoothly lean his head out to peak down at me through my un-tinted windows. I remind myself again to put down "Tint Windows" on my checklist.

2:00PM At the medical supply store, the over-friendly staff guy walks me around half the building looking for what I need, only to "discover" that everything had actually been in one place near the entrance. He then proceeds to ask me about my life story. As he begins to gush over the television show "The Office", I curse myself wearing my Dunder Mifflin shirt. Fifteen minutes later we're finally at the check out station, and I slowly inch my way to the door, smiling and nodding, waiting for him to take a breath so I can grab my plastic grocery bag and run.

2:30PM At the local grocery store buying necessities. An older woman politely compliments my Dunder Mifflin shirt. I smile and thank her.

2:45PM Outside at the local pumpkin patch picking up a few for the house. My total is $18.75. I give him $20 and tell him to keep the change. He carries all of my pumpkins to my car and puts them in the car for me. A little odd, seeing as he didn't for the two he checked out ahead of me, but greatly appreciated. Although it was probably a little inconvenient for the man in line behind me.

3:00PM And I'm home. My shift at Hooters starts in two hours and fifteen minutes. At least I'll be getting paid for it.

Hooters Wisdom

2009-10-02T19:26:00.000-07:00

Brit, what's five plus forty-seven plus five?

So... forty-seven plus ten... that'll be fifty-seven.

What? I said five plus forty-seven plus five.

That's fifty-seven.

But where did you get the ten?

*facepalm*

Swamped

2009-10-01T10:17:00.000-07:00

I am all too swamped in life at the moment. I wish I had more to write.

YARRRR!

2009-09-19T12:10:00.000-07:00

Talk like a pirate day is always more fun when there are male co-workers around, which unfortunately isn't the case at Hooters.

A tale of two servers

2009-09-18T22:52:00.001-07:00

He works downtown. I work at Hooters.

We make about the same in tips.

He thinks my job is cake. I think his is.

The truth is, neither are.

Depending on the state of my hair, I'll spend anywhere between 20 minutes to an hour getting ready for work. Depending on where I am, it will take me 10 to 20 minutes to drive to work and park. I'm always at least 15 minutes early, but I usually get there around thirty minutes before my shift starts. Just so I can, you know, make sure my make-up looks ok in the restaurant lighting, locate a locker for my purse and change of clothes, and sort of mentally pump myself up for the impending shift.

No matter the state of his hair, he'll spend about 5 minutes getting ready for work. This includes the facial hair check and making sure there isn't anything sticking out of his teeth or nose. Depending where he is, it will take him anywhere from 15 to 25 minutes to get to work, depending on traffic. Then, he searches for parking. He allows himself 30 minutes. If it's a good day, he arrives to work 20 minutes early and has a smoke with some work buddies. If it's a bad day, he walks into work with 5 minutes to spare.

During my shift, I have anywhere between 4 and 6 tables before head wait starts sending girls home. I receive a 30 minute, unpaid break in the break room. I'm not allowed to leave at night without a walk out because it's a liability. I dance corporate-approved dances and bring up guests for birthday humiliations and bachelor/ette celebrations a few times every hour, depending on the rush(es). I follow a loose 16 steps that I know secret shoppers are looking for. I must greet a table in 30 seconds, bring their drinks in 3 minutes, etc. I sit down with every one of my tables and even if I'm not, I make it look like I'm interested and having a good time. We are not allowed to carry trays because more girls are needed to carry more food, so the more people there are at a table, the more girls are needed to bring the food and drinks. I am required to smile at and greet every guest within a 5 ft radius of me. This is sometimes more difficult than it sounds if the man is drunk enough. All of my time is given to the guests. I walk around to all of the other tables, making small talk and making sure they have everything they need. If they don't, I will get it for them. Usually, there are a table or two that are high maintenance. If I'm closing, I follow a strict checklist. After I clock out, I am walked to my car.

During his shift, he has anywhere between 5 and 8 tables before it slows down and servers are cut. He receives a 30 minute, unpaid break. He usually leaves and frequents a nearby cafe. He must greet a table in one minute, and bring their drinks in 4. He is polite and courteous to the guests, but not casual. He takes their orders and make sure that they go out when they need to. He carries all the food out on one large tray. He only waits on his section, although a table might call out to him for assistance as he's passing. When his section is completely taken care of, he finds himself with a few extra minutes to step out and have a cigarette. This experience is purely about the food, and so it must be perfect. He has more side work than I do, and closing takes a longer amount of time. After he clocks out, he walks with some friends to their cars.

We are exhausted. I am more emotionally drained than he is. He is more physically drained than I am.

Which would be more difficult for you?

Tips for the dining-impaired.

2009-09-18T10:54:00.001-07:00

All of this should be common sense but, unfortunately, through waitressing I've learned it's not. I'll start from the beginning.

THE 10 COMMANDMENTS!

1. Honor thy hostess. Reservations. Some restaurants take them and some don't. The Hooters I work for happens to NOT take reservations. Getting cranky with the hostess will not help your situation. It is, however, helpful to call ahead to let us know that 40 of your closest friends are coming in. We'll TRY to keep some tables together open, but we wont make any promises. Why? Because nine times out of ten, less than HALF of the people will end up showing up, and most of them hang out for just fifteen minutes. This isn't your private pool house, and we end up losing money while your friends take up tables that could have been sat by people actually want to eat dinner and tip well.

2. Thou shalt not seat thyself. Hostesses seat you at a table for a reason, but we understand if you'd prefer to sit elsewhere. However, let the HOSTESS know before you're sat. You should also understand that, because of this slight disturbance to the restaurant's flow, it might take a few minutes longer for the waitress to get to your table. It's because she has other tables she needs to take care of. (I'm saying she because only shes' are waitresses at Hooters.) Another no-no is asking to move to a different table after you've been sitting at yours for some time. If you must, understand that you will most likely receive a different waitress, unless you move to another table in her section. We have sections because it's easier to keep tabs on tables that are all in the same area. It's a real pain in the ass to have to run to the other side of the restaurant to check on that table that "needed" to move because a booth opened up halfway through their meal.

3. Thou shall drink at the bar. We have a perfectly good bar, and it drives me crazy when a group of two or three strolls in during a rush and sits in my booth that holds 6 comfortably only to ask for two glasses of water and a bud light or two. I don't care if you're just hanging out before a concert or a football game. I don't care that you already ate. You're going to sit there for an hour, racking up your $6.75 tab, while there is a line out the door. Then, for my trouble, you'll leave me $7. I'm losing money. I have to tip out buss boys and the restaurant takes out a percentage of my sales to tip out the hostesses, breakers, bartenders, and kitchen staff. That is what the bar or even the patio is for. You may be low maintenance, but I'd take a high-maintenance high-tipper any day.

4. Thou shalt not monopolize thy Hooters Girl. I have other tables, and while I love a good conversation, I'm here to do my job. Fit in what ever you can into a minute or two, but when I have a full section, that is about all I can spare. It's rude to keep me there, and I'll have to seem rude to leave and tend to my other tables. It's also rude to complain about the amount of time I spend at other tables. I'll be honest with you. They're actually ordering food and drinks, which usually ends in a better tip.

5. Thou shalt not block thy Hooters Girl. Some people need help with basic navigating through the restaurant. Your Hooters Girl always has the right of way. Always. (ok, maybe not always, but if she's headed straight for you with 2 plates of 50 wings each, it's your funeral.) Hooters girls aren't waitresses. They're Hooters Girls. If we were waitresses, we would be allowed to give you only the basic service. (Normal service.) So when you see me walking towards you with two pitchers of beer in one hand and five ice cold glasses in the other, MOVE! Step aside. I don't care if you're a chick either. I have a million other things to do, dances to dance, kids to entertain, and beer to pour. I have the right of way because I'm at work, and you're here because you have nothing better to do. (Thanks for coming in by the way!)

*Note: Because of the informality of the Hooters Restaurants Guests are literally EVERYWHERE. At my location, during any type of game or event, it can be like trying to move through the mosh pit at Warped Tour. Not fun when you're, as I said before, carting around platters of wings and pitchers of beer.

6. Thou shalt not whine. Up-selling. I have to do this. It's part of the "16-steps" I've had memorized from day one. Also, the more you spend, the more I can potentially make. I know that makes me sound like a gold-digging hussy, but this is a business, and that is how we make our money. Did you really think we had "hooters girl" at the top of our "What I want to be when I grow up" lists? I didn't, so shut up and smile while I tell you how good our chocolate mousse cake is or about our awesome t-shirt deal going on. If you really don't give a damn, tell me straight up: "I am not a secret shopper. I do not intend to purchase anything other than what I will ask for." I will still make sure you receive good service because I am a good karma-fearing waitress.

7. Thou shalt not refuse to pay for a meal after it's been eaten. That makes sense, right? I don't need to explain this one, do I? If you don't like your food, for god sakes, tell me! I am required to check on you after "2-bites or 2-minutes!" and gosh darn it, I do it! Why? Because I should, and because it is something the secret shopper looks for. So, it is definitely not the time to whine to me about an entree, after dessert and coffee, when I drop off the check. That window of opportunity closed when I asked if everything was ok thirty minutes ago and you said YES.

8. Thou shalt not ask for separate checks after the meal. Need I say more? I always ask if I need to split checks if I'm serving a party of five or more. It's annoying and some people do look offended, but it's something I've learned I need to do. Occasionally I'll forget. So please, if you are not intelligent enough to add numbers and factor in tax, let me know that you'll need separate checks BEFORE you order. Things will flow much easier. (at hooters, we can put ANY amount you ask for on your card, and THEN we'll give you your receipt where you can add in the tip! You have 5 friends and 4 are paying with cards and 1 with cash? Perfect! Tell me how much to put on each card and if your friend is expecting change! Easy peasy!)

9. Thou shall keep a respectable distance between thyself and thy Hooters Girl. I cannot stress this one enough. I've been picked up, hugged, twirled...you name it. And that's fine. But this issue is about the message it sends to other, much more intoxicated guests. It is also the reason why the boyfriend does not receive a kiss (which would be unprofessional anyway) or anything more than a friendship hug when he comes to visit me. And he only gets a hug when he's near the door and out of sight. There is a reason why we ask you to put your hands in your pockets during our delightfully tacky Hooters Hokey Pokey.

10. Thou shall tip at least 15% That's a given, right? I hope so. After all we do for your care and amusement. Coupons? Bring em!! But please realize that the tip should be calculated before the discount. We did serve you the food. The kitchen did prepare it. The bus boy does have more mess to clean because of it. Common sense people.

And that's it for today. I don't mean to sound like I have to wait on complete idiots all the time. Many of my guests are wonderful and entertaining themselves. They're a pleasure to wait on. But I have seen my fair share of the dining-impaired, so pass this indispensable knowledge on to your friends and loved ones. Please, on behalf of your Hooters Girls and Servers.

Real Life Twitter

2009-09-10T22:43:00.001-07:00

Golf

2009-09-06T17:46:00.000-07:00

I am lucky enough to be able to live within walking distance of a (man made) lake where I may run the 6 mile course around it, picnic beside it, canoe through it, or visit one of the many softball/baseball games going on at the ball fields next to it. As a college student, I've learned that every penny counts (for example, that caramel frap at the bux is worth 30 minutes of my hourly wage), so in place of a trendy gym I prefer to make use of the many outdoor "playgrounds" San Diego has to offer. Elle and I used to frequent the lake a few years ago, waking up before my classes to get in a little morning cardio. Unfortunately, directly adjacent to the lake is a golf course. I say "unfortunately" because golfers are some of the worse people I've ever met. I use the term "met" very loosely, and I'm sure they're not all like that, but every morning we were cat-called and harassed by these golfers. It got to the point where we'd rather endure the scorching heat in sweats and long tees just to avoid feeling horribly objectified for that mile we were forced to be within their range of vision. Normally, I don't prefer to run with an Ipod when I have a running buddy, but that too became a necessity. Eventually we stopped running the lake in the morning and took to the nearby mountain trails instead. (They're much more invigorating anyways.)

I walked into work today for my "early" morning shift, poured myself some coffee, and sat through "jump start," ready for what every may lay ahead. Or so I thought. The manager finished his spiel and we wiped down our tables just as guests began trickling in the door.

I walked over to greet my first table of the day.

"Hey guys! How are you this morning?"

"Hey sugar, bring us a couple of beers! We just spent this whole morning golfin!"

fml.

Management

2009-08-28T10:34:00.000-07:00

I am so glad I have such an amazing support system at work. They have no idea how much I appreciate them.

Dr.

2009-08-26T15:52:00.000-07:00

"So what do you do."

I stare at him. Dumbfounded. Does this man not understand that I am carrying my body weight in dirty dishes? Is he trying to start small talk? And what kind of a vague, half-assed question is that?

"Well, I'm going to school to become an RN."

For fun, I also wait on inconsiderate pricks not intelligent enough to realize that I am at my place of employment.

"Why on earth would you choose that career." It was a statement. Clearly not a question. His friends stifled their laughter.

"It's easy." I replied, with a sarcasm he wasn't mentally advanced enough to catch on to.

"I know dozens of nurses that would shoot you for that one."

"Do you." I replied. It was a statement. Clearly not a question. I began to walk away, still weighted down with my spoils from the other tables that were beginning to look around the restaurant because they obviously needed me to, you know, continue to serve them.

"You know, I hire nurses based on how hot they are."

"I better hope I don't get sick then."

"Guys feel better when a hot nurse is looking after them."

"Does that mean I get a hot doctor."

"Am I hot."

"Scorching. Can I get you gentlemen anything." Clearly not a question.

"Sure."

I pause, waiting.

"How about your number. You can write it on the back of the check. You can let me know when you want that job."

That's when I started laughing.

My latest crush

2009-08-25T14:41:00.000-07:00

Tyler Shields. Check him out via YouTube. Some of his vids can be a little hipster, and I mean that in all the worst ways, but there is something raw about them that I love.

The Level

2009-08-24T22:10:00.000-07:00

When it comes to waiting on restaurant patrons, I think you either come to the table with it (no pun intended) or you begin to reach it after some time. It's this invisible line that, unless you have the patience of a kindergarten teacher, you eventually will cross over. It's the level. You no longer show up to every table, starry-eyed and smiling cheek to cheek. You understand that waiting tables isn't your career and that if this restaurant doesn't work out, you can walk right out and right back into the one next door. Your heart begins to harden as child after child drops crushed cheerios and squishes mayo packets onto the floor, into carpets, and in between bench seat cushions. Your faith in humanity falters as matured adults show less class than their cheerio crushing, mayo packed smushing offspring. A little crack appears your outer shell, threatening to splinter, and your eyes no longer retain their spark.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have reached this level.

Thunderstorm

2009-08-21T14:14:00.001-07:00

This is why september is one of my favorite months. I love the warm rain and the low growls and purrs of the thunder. The dry, dusty air smells clean and moist. It's my new year. It's my birthday month, starting a new year at school, and looking forward to the looming holidays.

It's after 2 pm and I'm still in bed. Thunderstorms justify this.

p.s.

i do realize it's still august :p

september is just arriving a little early in terms of weather.

"I'm deleting my myspace!"

2009-08-20T17:11:00.000-07:00

cry the alone and insignificant.

A wise manager once said to me, "Everything is what you make it." I believe that whole-heartedly. Sure, I have one, and although I rarely use that irritating social network, it does keep me in contact with those that are more difficult to keep in touch with. Then are they worth it? You might ask. I think so. I'm a busy person. I'm spontaneous. I've been known to cancel a plan or two for a sudden change of heart. You might call that flakey. I just call it life. And so I can relate.

Nothing peeves me more than to sign on with the intention of checking emails or visiting blogs and bulletins, only to be forced to scroll through the "trash," trying to sift out the obvious shouts for attention. Like the selfish toddler, there is little that can keep them quiet. Amused for a time, perhaps, but never silenced.

"Yeah, so this thing is bringing me, like, way too much drama. So I'm thinking of deleting it. SO if you want to talk to me do it now."

If that doesn't scream loneliness and desperation I don't know what does.

With the intention of checking out my best friend's recent trip to Las Vegas, I again pass over another post by the desperado.

"I'm deleting my myspace in 24 hours."

Of course, this time constraint is part of the protocol. The dramatic love the ticking time bomb scenario. Irritated with my speed reading skills I am forced to realize that those post titles were written over a week ago. So much for commitment these days.

I am wasted right now

2009-08-19T00:41:00.000-07:00

I just wanted you all to know that. I love your comments and emails. I'm trying to hit every spot in San Francisco that you mentioned. I am so proud of myself for typing this entire paragraph sans typos. Success.

Last night in San Francisco. Making it worth while. Quick! Tell me what I absolutely have to do before I leave tomorrow afternoon!!

I love my boyfriend, and San Francisco

2009-08-17T23:31:00.000-07:00

I forgot my pay stub. The first time I ever take it out of my purse in an effort to "de-clutter" and I realize too late that we are staying at a hotel minutes away from a Hooters in a major city. So much for getting my San Francisco uniform top. I am very disappointed.

Summer vacation. The big getaway. It's what you look forward to when Christmas is over. The first half was ruined when my dad's girlfriend realized he was cheating on her after the first day at our beach house. That's fine. I told myself. We're only weeks away from THE LAKE HOUSE. The Lake House. It was the second part of our summer getaway and I had been looking forward to this for years. My aunt's husband recently inherited a mansion on a very popular lake north of San Francisco, complete with speed boats and jet skis, and finally after being unable to attend many an invite, we were going. Every day I'd ask my dad, the fifteenth right? In confirmation of our plans. My boyfriend and I had requested the necessary five days off that the trip required. Five lazy, sunny, beautiful days. It was just around the corner now, and I could hardly contain myself.

It was the fourteenth of August and I was packing. Excitement ran through my veins. As I walked downstairs I ran into my father.

"What time do you want to leave tomorrow?" I asked him, while an involuntary smile broke across my face.

"Yeah, about that.." he began.

We weren't going. Something came up. My dad had never actually confirmed the dates with them. I was pissed.

"But we'll make it work." He said.

I sat him down, and went over a brief itinerary.

"San Francisco it is."

The boyfriend had never been to San Francisco. Actually, he had never been to any major city outside of San Diego before, and seeing as we're going backpacking across Europe next summer, I figured this would be the perfect destination to whet his cultural appetite.

And so here we are. Hence my lack of posting recently. We had originally planned to head up to see some friends in Rescue, California to do some white water rafting but apparently my little sister has an aversion to anything that includes the words "water" and "rafting." No big deal really. We can do that near home anyways. That only means we have an additional day in San Francisco. And we plan to make the most out of it.

Cutsey barf alert!!! I am slightly jazzed to be able to state that San Francisco is where the boyfriend and I have booked our first Hotel room together.

I hope everyone is having an amazing summer! I know it can be difficult this time of the year, but don't forget to update your posts! And I love getting your comments and emails! I'll write back soon!

xoxoxo,

your brit

Nice To Meet You, Mr. GM

2009-08-11T14:26:00.001-07:00

It was all you can eat wing night and I was breaker. My favorite blog reader came in to visit me again, but unfortunately was unable to sit in my section since I didn't have one, and I didn't get to break her section before she and her bunch of friends she brought in left. D: Maybe next Tuesday!

But do you remember how my boyfriend doesn't exactly jump for joy at the idea of me waitressing at Hooters...? Well I felt that maaaaybe if I actually had him come in and see me more often, he may have a change of heart, seeing as he had only really been in twice before and he was with his buddies. So, I sent him a text, telling him that I would probably be off around 10-10:30 if he wanted to come in and get dinner with me after my shift. Well, he ended up having a wonderful time. I set him up with all you can eat wings and we sat in my friend's section. My General Manager actually came over and introduced himself to the boyfriend, telling him that it was awesome to meet him and that he should come in more often.

We stayed until closing and the restaurant was almost empty. We watched as my GM pulled all of the girls together to tell them how well our restaurant was doing, and that if we boosted our sales just a little bit more, we'd be almost at the top. The way they sat together reminded me of a family, and the girls cheered when they heard the good news. It was sweet to watch the closeness and I could tell my boyfriend noticed. After wards, my boyfriend walked me out to my car and we passed my general manager who was just walking back from escorting another girl to hers. "It was really great to meet you!" He said again to my boyfriend. "Come back soon! And thanks for making sure our brit got to her car safely. It's great to have you back brit."

Needless to say, the boyfriend's opinions of Hooters have risen considerably.

Family Night

2009-08-09T20:32:00.000-07:00

Is occurring as I write this. Yes. I still have family night every Sunday night starting at six. The kids are grown up now so it's hard for my dad to see us all. We always seemed to be off work and not as busy with school Sunday evenings, and so family night was born. Occasionally it swells to include extended members of family, boyfriends, and girlfriends. With good reason. Tonight's movie is DEAD SNOW. This English dubbed treasure takes place high up in the mountains. The young protagonists must walk miles from their cars to reach the isolated cabin. You know where this is going. Only there is a twist. Zombies. But were you expecting them to be a zombie army of deceased Nazis?? I didn't think so.

P.S. My family is awesome.

Would you like some cheese with that wine?

2009-08-07T22:18:00.000-07:00

Is it asking too much when a person feels that they deserve someone that can understand and appreciate them? Like, really understand. And not push me when I'm down at my lowest. Why do I feel like I'm slipping, like I'm becoming a dull and lifeless being? When it's good it's great. Don't get me wrong. When things are good it can be such a great feeling. But is it worth it when the bad is so miserable? Or should I listen and believe that it's my fault that I feel this way, as if I have some sort of disorder. That I'm dramatic. So, expressing myself is dramatic. Explaining that I'm upset is dramatic. I've never been one for scenes. I'll wait until I'm home to cry. I'll wait for a private setting to argue. I've never thrown a heavy object at a male. Or any object for that matter without intending them to catch it. I've never screamed, yelled, or been physically abusive. Since when did expressing feelings in an adult manner become dramatic? I'm honestly curious at this point. I don't even want to begin on the double standards that occur weekly. Maybe I'll go back to the Apple store.

Funny thing. I'm painfully optimistic the majority of the time. I put my phone down and sat on my bed. Feeling incredibly alone. And then my phone rang. I looked at it, hopeful, but immediately disappointed when an unknown number stared up at me. I continued to stare back. Should I pick it up? What do I have to lose?

I answered.

"Hello, Brittany?" A man with a British accent said to me.

"Erm.. hi?" I stammered.

"It's Robert Pattinson... I'm back in town and I know I've been meaning to call. I'm terrible at it aren't I?"

Ok I'm kidding with the Robert Pattinson part. But it WAS actually an old high school buddy of mine whom I befriended when he was newly in from the British Isles. He had found me on facebook months earlier and we exchanged numbers.

"Will!" I nearly shrieked into the phone. "How ARE you??"

"I'm well! I just wanted to let you know that I'm in town and I'm having a party tomorrow night. Sort of a mixture of celebrations."

"Yes?"

"Well my brother was just signed to *record company* and it's a friend's birthday and I'm back, so we're going to invite every one we know! Are you in?"

"Definitely." I smiled.

Ding Ding Ding Ding!

2009-08-07T16:18:00.001-07:00

Less than 45 Hooters Waitresses at my location! Everybody is graduating college and going back home. An all time low since I've been hired. Strangely, while looking at this week's schedule, I realized we have approximately 25 Hostesses. Either our new Hostesses are very VERY slow with obtaining their proper paperwork needed for training, or they're very VERY slow in other areas if you know what I mean. Both are common at least 50% of the time. Hostesses can be the absolute worst. As opposed to the much more modestly behaved waitresses, the new hostess is EXCITED about her new job! Her ego is inflated day after day, watching hundreds of hopefuls come into the restaurant to apply every week, never to be heard from again. Because everyone in the restaurant must walk by her or be seated by her, she is constantly flirted with, inflating her ego further. Then one day a waitress will snap at her, for dropping off yet another party onto a dirty table and walking off, leaving a family of six looking around disgusted. The hostess doesn't understand. But I GAVE her a table! She whines to herself and to the other hostesses. And I'm so pretty and cute! All of the guys think so! She's just jealous! She will try and convince herself. Another waitress has a little chat with her after being triple sat for the third time that evening. I'm having such a bad day! Thinks the hostess. Folding shirts at Abercombie is so much less stressful! She thinks to herself nostalgically. The next day her friend will call and inform her of a swinging party last minute. But I have a shift tonight! She laments. As she weighs the pros and cons of each, she remembers her bad day yesterday and goes to the party instead. Heck, she doesn't even call to tell them she wont be coming in. Who's got the time for that when you're young and beautiful! The hostess is promptly fired. And I wonder why we only have 45 waitresses.

Music

2009-08-06T10:49:00.000-07:00

The last thing I want to do is force music and lifestyles upon you. My biggest pet peeve are people that have nothing better to do than to tell you how to live your life. That being said, I am a lover of almost all music out there. I love true punk and ska but I keep my hair at my natural shade of blonde. I like house but I'm not a slut. I enjoy reggae but I'm not a pot head. Basically I think I'm very good at being me and it pisses me off when I get "the glare" at shows because I'm not wearing the right clothes or that I don't have the right hair.

My sister is really big into surf rock and rockabilly, two of my most favorite styles of music. But

occasionally with the rockabilly crowd, comes the over-zealous psychobilly fan. This is one of my least favorite people besides the emo-hipster. This fan, who is indeed a specific person, states that the actually "psychobilly lifestyle" is in fact more important than the music itself. What this lifestyle actually entails, I have no idea, but my point is IT'S F***ING MUSIC! Sit down and enjoy it! That's what it's made for.

The whole reason why I started writing this post, is because I wanted to again mention the awesome Apple store dude that helped me out yesterday. During one of our random chats he decided to take me to one of the computers that had an awesome sound system to show me his buddy's local band. Because to most awesome nerds, and especially me, music is one of the deepest bonding levels. Well his buddy that he grew up with happens to be a kick ass musician, and when I went home to check out more of his stuff on my computer, I realized this guy is kind of a big deal. He writes all the music for his "band," records it all himself, and then puts it together. His music has also been featured on Grey's Anatomy and in the movie Confessions of a Shopaholic among other things. He's the very talented Greg Laswell. Check him out!

I'm a Mac :o)

2009-08-05T20:47:00.000-07:00

I can finally blog on my own time! I'm so excited! I received a little mac G4 for Christmas back in 2005, but after I let an ex take it with him to Europe for easy blog updating, it was never the same. Jerk. Anyway I just wanted to express what a great experience I had. I was greeted quickly by an employee and after I told him what I was looking for, he asked me a TON of questions about who I am and what I do and helped narrow down everything. Not only was he informed and personable, but after we got everything together, he actually took the time to show me all of the cool features that my old mac didn't have. I was in there for at least an hour, but he made sure to ask me if I had to be anywhere or if I was in a hurry. He also teaches classes to help people learn how to use their apple products, from the very basic to the advanced, and he invited me to come. I think I might go :o) He also told me you can schedule time to work on projects with a group at the apple store, privately on your own computer or on theirs, and they're available if you need any help! Super cool if I need to create a cool project or if I want to edit any videos! I'm so stoked! Go Mac!

Surgery

2009-08-05T19:17:00.003-07:00

You'd think being bedridden for five days would have generated a higher volume of posts, what with the inability to do nothing but lie down or crawl to the bathroom in a futile attempt to empty myself. (...i hate vicodin...) Well it did not. I did, however, manage to re-read the entire Stephanie Meyer Twilight series, plan my trip to Europe, and lose myself in three other very awesome books. I wish I could say the reason I was away was due to some spontaneously arranged adventure. But I'm saving that for the week after next ;o)

I'M BACK!

2009-08-05T19:11:00.000-07:00

And this time, I'm on a Mac... Pro. :o)

I am a very, very happy nerd right now.

Job Hunt

2009-07-27T13:32:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-07-23T00:44:00.000-07:00

I love summer.

The Slut Rule

2009-07-20T10:49:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-20T10:38:00.000-07:00

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)

Cranky Pants

2009-07-18T10:45:00.001-07:00

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)

xoxo

brit

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

I'm FAMOUS!

2009-07-16T12:31:00.000-07:00

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!"
"YEAH!"
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!"
"Alright!"
-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.
"NO."
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.
xoxo
brit

Europe!

2009-07-13T14:21:00.000-07:00

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!

xoxo

brit

Spaghetti

2009-07-09T15:58:00.000-07:00

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.

Miffed

2009-07-08T12:13:00.001-07:00

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!

Breaker

2009-07-07T13:50:00.000-07:00

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!"

"Huzzah!!"

Oh I adore being appreciated.

the sweetest thing

2009-07-07T09:41:00.000-07:00

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!"

The Truth Behind Stereotypes

2009-07-06T13:52:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-06T12:41:00.001-07:00

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)

The Down Side of Getting What You Want

2009-06-27T10:05:00.001-07:00

At work, we pretty much have all 80 numbers of the girls we work with. That, or they're just a text or call away from a girl that does have her number. With management moving around and taking on different duties, such as scheduling, communication between each other has been crucial for our work performance.
"Yesterday i saw a STACK of write-ups in the office for girls that didn't have perfect uniforms." OK, so now we all know to bleach our shoes, shirts, and socks before coming into work. Girls frantically ask each other if they think barely-there stains will cost them their job. They'll walk over to you and scrunch your socks if you forget, let you know about any runs in your pantyhose, and tuck the tag back into your shirt. Basically, we are a kick ass team. While we did receive a memo about our physical appearance, everyone knows it's practically impossible to keep our uniforms perfect when working with the types of food we serve and still keep up the fun vibe our restaurant trade marks. But we're doing the best we can. I have recently purchased a Tide Pen

We have one of our new managers doing the scheduling our old manager once did, and he hasn't yet figured out how to email us the schedules. So we fend for ourselves, asking girls that work the day they come out to text our schedules to us. Luckily I never seem to have the problem, as I'm almost always scheduled the day they come out, or the email actually gets through to me. This week everybody was holding their breath to see if they were able to get the 4th off, including me. My boyfriend is actually participating in an off-road race on Tuesday so I was angling to get that off as well. Once again, as I picked up my schedule, I received all of the days I wanted off, but I had actually put in a vacation request for the 4th. In the dressing room, everyone else moaned about having to work that holiday and that they never, ever worked Sundays. Dashing around to see who got it off, they spotted me.
"Do you want my shift??" they cried.
"Um, no I requested it off." I replied. Why would I want to work Saturday or Sunday when I had purposely requested them off WITH a vacation request. Later that evening I received a text from a girl asking what her schedule was.
"Are you serious?? They scheduled me for the 4th!?" She replied.
"Yeah I guess almost everybody got fucked over."
"Yeah, everyone except you"
How she knew that I have no idea. But it's starting to feel like there's some animosity growing towards me. We'll see. Maybe they'll schedule me on Sunday next time and I can join the pity party.

What is Ford Thinking??

2009-06-26T18:22:00.000-07:00

The other day my boyfriend and I had the displeasure of seeing the new Ford Mustang and we couldn't hold back the giggles. Why Ford?? You had such a good thing going! The new mustang looked pretty bad ass with it's fast back style and mean look. But you've taken that and smushed up the back to the point where I'd be fearful of being made fun of for driving the "stink bug car" if i ever purchased one. And I probably wont. Mustangs aren't my thing really. I hate to sound like a snob but I'd rather not drive around in the "poor man's" muscle car. If I was going to shell out some money for a car it would be something it would be either gas friendly or fun.

But really? When the new body style came out around my junior year of high school, about 5 or 6 years ago, I saw a completely new car. It brought back the mean, muscle look of the late 60's that I loved so much. But this new look just doesn't cut it for me. What do you think? Here's a yellow 2007 with the normal body style, and then we've got the red angled up rear. The advertisement photo obviously is marketing it to sell so they've got the best angle possible. It looks much worse in person.

**Not to piss off any of you ford people. I know there is a HUGE following. Half of you sit in my section at work a couple times a month!! xoxo

I Heart Craigslist

2009-06-24T11:15:00.000-07:00

THIS APPEARED ON CRAIG'S LIST (USA)

What am I doing wrong?

Okay, I'm tired of beating around the bush. I'm a beautiful (spectacularly beautiful) 25 year old girl. I'm articulate and classy. I'm not from New York. I'm looking to get married to a guy who makes at least half a million a year. I know how that sounds, but keep in mind that a million a year is middle class in New York City, so I don't think I'm overreaching at all.

Are there any guys who make 500K or more on this board? Any wives? Could you send me som

e tips? I dated a business man who makes average around 200 - 250. But that's where I seem to hit a roadblock. 250,000 won't get me to central park west. I know a woman in my yoga class who was married to an investment banker and lives in Tribeca, and she's not as pretty as I am, nor is she a great genius. So what is she doing right? How do I get to her level?

Here are my questions specifically:

-Where do you single rich men hang out? Give me specifics- bars, restaurants, gyms
-What are you looking for in a mate? Be honest guys, you won't hurt my feelings
-Is there an age range I should be targeting (I'm 25)?- Why are some of the women living lavish lifestyles on the upper east side so plain? I've seen really 'plain jane' boring types who have nothing to offer married to incredibly wealthy guys. I've seen drop dead gorgeous girls in singles bars in the east village. What's the story there?
- Jobs I should look out for? Everyone knows - lawyer, investment banker, doctor. How much do those guys really make? And where do they hang out? Where do the hedge fund guys hang out?
- How you decide marriage vs. just a girlfriend? I am looking for MARRIAGE ONLY
Please hold your insults - I'm putting myself out there in an honest way.

Most beautiful women are superficial; at least I'm being up front about it. I wouldn't be searching for these kind of guys if I wasn't able to match them - in looks, culture, sophistication, and keeping a nice home and hearth.

THE ANSWER
Dear Pers-431649184:
I read your posting with great interest and have thought meaningfully about your dilemma. I offer the following analysis of your predicament. Firstly, I'm not wasting your time, I qualify as a guy who fits your bill; that is I make more than $500K per year. That said here's how I see it.

Your offer, from the prospective of a guy like me, is plain and simple a crappy business deal. Here's why. Cutting through all the B.S., what you suggest is a simple trade: you bring your looks to the party and I bring my money. Fine, simple. But here's the rub, your looks will fade and my money will likely continue into perpetuity...in fact, it is very likely that my income increases but it is an absolute certainty that you won't be getting any more beautiful!

So, in economic terms you are a depreciating asset and I am an earning asset. Not only are you a depreciating asset, your depreciation accelerates! Let me explain, you're 25 now and will likely stay pretty hot for the next 5 years, but less so each year. Then the fade begins in earnest. By 35 stick a fork in you!

So in Wall Street terms, we would call you a trading position, not a buy and hold...hence the rub...marriage. It doesn't make good business sense to "buy you" (which is what you're asking) so I'd rather lease. In case you think I'm being cruel, I would say the following. If my money were to go away, so would you, so when your beauty fades I need an out. It's as simple as that. So a deal that makes sense is dating, not marriage.

Separately, I was taught early in my career about efficient markets. So, I wonder why a girl as "articulate, classy and spectacularly beautiful" as you has been unable to find your sugar daddy. I find it hard to believe that if you are as gorgeous as you say you are that the $500K hasn't found you, if not only for a tryout.

By the way, you could always find a way to make your own money and then we wouldn't need to have this difficult conversation.

With all that said, I must say you're going about it the right way. Classic "pump and dump."
I hope this is helpful, and if you want to enter into some sort of lease, let me know.

The Wave House

2009-06-21T20:29:00.001-07:00

Where have I been? No, seriously. I obviously need to get out more because I've apparently been missing out on quite a lot in my own city. I finished my breaker shift at work a little later than usual because I'm too nice and broke some girls that didn't really need to be. It was a slow shift, but I had the pleasure of waiting on a table where a young man sat (that required a double take to make sure he wasn't Jon Krasinski, or more commonly known as Jim Halpert, from The Office; a most beloved television show of mine), whose company I enjoyed immensely. After my shift I headed straight to the boyfriend's house, freshened up, and donned an outfit I hoped would keep me warm enough for hanging out by the beach but cool enough to dance my heart out at a concert.

We arrived early. It was not yet seven, but parking is terrible by the beach and I wanted to be positive I didn't have to walk back ten blocks in a drunken stupor. It was overcast. Typical June gloom. We walked up to receive our wristbands, stepped inside, and a smile immediately spread across my face. Heaven! I took a few more steps and felt my foot squish into some uneven terrain. My boyfriend tightened his grip on me and laughed. "Easy there, you haven't even had your first drink yet." Sand! They had sand inside! Well, the venue is basically on the beach so sand is probably a given, but they actually had dug out areas filled with sand and fire pits! Bars scattered the premises and surf boards were fabricated into awesome tables. I was in San Diego heaven. We walked up to the bar.
"Guinness please!" I happily exclaimed.
"Aw sorry doll, but we only serve Guinness on Fridays."
Ok, so maybe it's not exactly paradise. Not twenty minutes later, they turned the wave generator on. Yes. Wave Generator. Near the entrance, there is a large pool area complete with warming jacuzzis, showers, and a frickin wave. They actually had a few competitions going on as well. It was amazing to watch, and my boyfriend and I promised ourselves that we would be back for the next round. Not as observers, but as stoked out competitors!

I wasn't really an Unwritten Law fan before I arrived that night. But I sure as hell was one when I left. Maybe it was the five or six beers in me, I know I know lightweight, but those kids really know how to put on a show. I don't think I've ever had that much fun at a concert before, not counting that uncomfortable few minutes when my boyfriend went to the bathroom and some broseph felt that it was appropriate to take his place.

On our way home, I drunkenly demanded quesadillas, and to my surprise and delight, the boyfriend actually pulled into an unknown drive through! I was far too incoherent to pay attention to where we were, but dang, best quesadilla ever. Boyfriend agrees.

The 10 Weird and Bizarre Habits Hooters Girls form

2009-06-20T16:55:00.000-07:00

1. Lip gloss will become part of you. You won't even realize you're putting it on until your boyfriend starts complaining. Because nobody really wants to kiss a sticky, gooey mess.

2. You will instinctively put important loose cards, money, and paper into the sleeves of your tank tops. It just becomes second nature.

3. "Cover-ups" will slowly begin to consume your wardrobe. Because we can't leave the restaurant in our uniform and you have to look cute going into work. Of course, some girls look just as cute coming in with their sweats and Dunder Mifflin Tee shirts, i hope.

4. Shorts, dresses, and skirts will never, ever feel too short. Ever again.

5. Wearing said shorts, dresses, and skirts will begin to feel "drafty" without that thick, protective panty-hose layer.

6. You'll achieve wing expertise.

7. Rude and lecherous guys won't be as irritating, because you've already seen much, much worse.

8. You will be compelled to exclaim, in your most HOOTERIFFIC voice, "HI WELCOME TO HOOTERS!" when you see someone entering the restaurant. Even if you're off the clock. And donning your cover up. (see #3)

9. You will become very, very conscious of what you put into your body. Because it WILL be visible your next shift.

10. And finally, you will become the best, and I mean the BEST, tipper when dining out. Because you understand. You will also come to understand the difference between Hooters Tipping and the way to tip at every other restaurant.

xoxo,

brit

for more info please click here.

Passenger "Too Sexy" for Southwest Airlines

2009-06-20T16:43:00.001-07:00

>Does that headline ring a bell?

I remember when it was all over the news, and that was before my blogging days.

Well, guess who my newest coworker is :p

And, she's pretty cool.

Surprise Surprise

2009-06-19T12:52:00.000-07:00

The boyfriend showed up at my house last night with two concert tickets in hand! Have I ever mentioned how much I love live music? I am now very excited for this Saturday night at the Wave House!!

In the meantime I will be earning back what is rightfully mine tonight at the restaurant. Wish me luck!

Quite the opposite of decent.

2009-06-18T09:41:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was quite the opposite of decent. I woke up at the ass-crack of dawn to take my father to the air port, which ended up making me very late to the office. After eight frustrating hours, I clocked out and drove straight to Hooters to get ready there. Apparently I've gained a couple of pounds, which is the equivalent of 10-15 Hooters pounds. Throughout that evening I had to put up with a lingering table that thought it was hilarious to tell me I should work at "Booties." Haha guys...never heard that one before. I proceeded to mysteriously loose $100 from my money book and was walked out on by two guys I was horribly attentive and nice to. I didn't receive a break that night because it was assumed that I would be cut early, so Head Wait and my manager nearly flipped out when they realized I was about to cross into the 6 hour-you-must-have-a-break-to-work-any-longer time limit. On top of that I lost my voice and I still can't hear very well out of my left ear. "I'm almost afraid to get in my car and drive home." I said to my sympathetic manager. After cashing out, I walked away with negative 37 dollars.

But I received no write up and I still have my job. And I'm thankful for that.

I sent a text to my boyfriend about my not so very good night and drove home in silence, trying to clear my thoughts. "GOOSFABA" I thought to myself, quoting Jack Nicholson from Anger Management. At home I tried releasing some stress on the piano, but as it was well past midnight and my motor skills weren't functioning properly, I began to get ready for bed, impatiently looking to my phone every few minutes to see if my boyfriend had written me back. He did. Sort of. But he was preoccupied with some friends I guess. The final slap in the face. I turned on the soundtrack to twilight and begged my body to sleep, hoping that forgoing dinner would help slim me up for my next shift.

I can't wait until I am in a professional career. I am counting down the days.

How

2009-06-18T09:05:00.000-07:00

What type of software do you use to create this type of art??

Have I mentioned that Beer commercials are my absolute favorite?

2009-06-17T12:15:00.000-07:00

(I couldn't locate the English version. But the actual words aren't even necessary :p)

Always the Bridesmaid...

2009-06-17T10:36:00.000-07:00

Before Hooters, I had never been exposed to so much girlishness. I'm sure it's been good for me. I am now pro at stopping nylons snags from becoming full blown tears. I can actually get my hair to hold a curl for hours on end. I'm comfortable openly talking about male society taboo topics such as menstruation, feminine body hair, and other aches and pains that come with being a woman. But what REALLY surprises me are the relationships. EVERYONE talks about marriage. I'm finding out the women I work with are much older or younger than I originally thought. A girl I figured was MAYBE 19 is at least 26 with children. Yep that was a children. While most of our girls are in college and working towards impressive degrees, there is a romantic air about them that one would not find in a predominantly male work force. On average, I've been finding out that a girl has either become engaged or married about once every couple of weeks. Pregnancy conversations are common. And with only a number of Hooters Girls somewhere in the mid 60s low 70s, I think that's a huge percentage. But this is entirely dependent on the types of girls that are working with me during a shift. Some days I'll feel like I'm working in an urban city. Some days, down by the beach. But more and more recently, it's definitely been that small town feel. It's kind of cute actually. But I think I'm gonna wait a while.

Butts

2009-06-17T10:35:00.000-07:00

Until I became a Hooters Girl, I had never noticed how many types of BUTTS there are. I just assumed you had one or you didn't. But thanks to those fabulously famous orange shorts, my opinion of the matter has changed entirely. And I'm kinda starting to like mine :o)

Where have all the men gone??

2009-06-16T11:48:00.000-07:00

Just for the record, this isn't an excuse to vent about my boyfriend at all. He's amazing and a half. It is a genuine concern for the future of females everywhere. I understand that women aren't perfect, that equal rights happened, and that some women are fem-nazi bitches. But I'm so tired of being teased by on-camera hotties. It's natural for a woman to want a man that makes her feel secure. Yes, I like my men taller than me. I like to know that I can walk down town with him and feel safe from the lecherous, leering men that seem to appear out of the wood work when a female is by herself. Who are all these boys, wearing pants tighter than mine, emitting cologne into the atmosphere at unsafe levels, and spending twice as long as me in the bathroom getting ready? And Hollywood, you're making things worse. You feed cute pretty boys to the PG crowd through Disney, creating even more pretty boy lemmings, and then by the time these boys are old enough for the decent PG13 and R movies, it's too late. They're already on their way to Portland and art school. Not that I have a problem with that.

This is for you Ironman, Wolverine, and Marcus Wright from Terminator SALVATION. Nobody likes a tease.

Washing Your Hands 101

2009-06-15T13:13:00.001-07:00

It may or may not be a coincidence that my new GM discussed hand washing during my most recent "jump start" before the start of our shift soon after the lovely KH of THE HOOTERS GIRL posted her few blogs on the importance of washing hands. I understand that Kat Cole, Vice President of the Hooters Company, follows her blog and corporate has been keeping in close contact with our restaurant lately. Could these two events be related? Maybe.

The Times They Are a Changin'

2009-06-15T11:38:00.000-07:00

Along with a few changes and additions to the management team, we received a particularly informative memo on the back of this week's schedule.

Hooters has always been a very image-based company, requiring their employees to follow reasonably strict dress codes and other codes of conduct.

Well friends, it's gotten even worse, er, better.

We were asked to read the memo with an open mind and to consider the motivation behind the changes that are being made. "We are aiming to focus a bit more on the 'girl next door, all American cheerleader, athletic, healthy, friendly, outgoing, happy' aspects of the ideal Hooters Girl image." That I completely understand. During times like these, we cant afford to lose any business, and chubby antisocial Hooters Girls are definitely a no-no. (Notice the HUGE drop in currently employed Hooters Girls at my location.)

I'm not sure if these changes are being made in every location. (Sauce? KH? A. Robb? Mayor? Thoughts?)

1. We are now no longer allowed to wear white bras under our white uniform tank tops. I completely understand this. Our uniform tank tops are very much like snowflakes. They are all completely different and unique. Because of this, I dread purchasing new uniforms. Although I always buy the size XXS, they all seem to be of different material thicknesses and shapes. Some tank tops squeeze my armpits. Some necklines are higher or lower, which can make your C look like a D, or the other way around. Occasionally you'll get a shirt that requires a "trim." Which is why we always have a pair of sizzors in the break room, so the shirt doesn't bunch up underneath our ever-smooth shorts. Some are so thin, that while wearing a white bra, it looks as if you just participated in a wet tee-shirt contest. Hense the illegalization of the white bra.

2. Bras continued... Bras may not be of a lace fabric or have lace edges. No designes are allowed, including scalloped edges. No crossing back straps. Clear straps are suggested. Basically no straps showing. Ever. Again, completely understandable.

3. Light pink is now the darkest nail color allowed. We used to be allowed to wear any shade of red, but not anymore. Besides the light shades of pink, french & american style manicures are acceptable. Again, I completely agree. The red nail polish just clashed with the whole "orange" theme of the restaurant. We're even receiving a sample from corporate, which leads me to believe that this isn't just occuring at my location.

4. Once again, jewelry is limited to wedding/engagement rings, and a small stud earring in each ear. We also allow required medical identification tag or bracelet or necklace. Anything else is not allowed. *They went into great detail about what isn't allowed, just incase of course.

5. OLD style shorts are not allowed to be modified in any way and must be worn up on the hip bone as designed. Hense the name OLD style shorts. Because we will be receiving the new style shorts in THREE WEEKS!! Woo! Hallaluja. Some of our trainers and promo girls already have them. My butt cheeks are very grateful.

6. Socks are now to be worn with the top edge on the lowest portion of the calf muscle. Still scrunchy of course. **This is a LITTLE lower than I like to wear mine.

7. "Pantyhose are no longer permitted to be pulled up past the waist band of your shorts."
THANK YOU! Finally. Because of the aforementioned snowflake tank tops, pantyhose was very visible when worn by some girls who liked to pull it up way past their bellybuttons. Occasionally, we'd get a nice shirt thick enough to hide this, and pulling up the pantyhose actually helped to smooth any appearance of the dreaded muffin top.

8. Tattoos are still to be covered and management will be enforcing ink on the back of the neck because girls have the tendency to lift their hair or pull it to the side, exposing said tattoo. This is going to be a big pain for A LOT of girls. I regularly see shoddily covered up tattoos. "As long as we make an effort to cover them up, it's ok!" a now EX Hooters Girl once told me. Not any more sister.

One Bagillion.

2009-06-11T14:56:00.000-07:00

I have about that many unpublished rough drafts of posts that I've got to start editing and attaching pretty pictures to. So tune in next time!!

(I want to try and attach MY OWN work to my posts so it is taking a considerable amount of time to post something that may have taken only minutes before.)

Miss you all.

your brit

p.s.

just in case you were curious, we're back up to 70 girls! With all of these new hires, there are BOUND to be some interesting stories. (foreshadowing ;p)

Eurika!

2009-06-11T14:54:00.000-07:00

I am finally the proud owner of a MILITARY MONDAY HOOTERS UNIFORM! How?? You might ask. But they no longer make them/issue them out to Hooters Girls! You may stammer. Well, thanks to EBAY, I now have one less day to wear those hideous orange shorts! Woo!

P.S.
I just found out my new GM is outlawing the Military Monday Hooters Uniform. Great. I think I'll wear mine next Monday and see what happens. It just looks so much better. According to the girl that burst my ecstatic bubble yesterday, he's getting rid of them because not enough girls have them. Maybe if he sees that we're trying to obtain these cuties he'll have a change of heart :o)

Play with our Wii!

2009-06-11T14:49:00.000-07:00

Mondays have been so slow lately that our managers have begun to allow us to text during our shift (within reason) in desperate attempts to get friends, boyfriends, or literally anyone we know to come in and "visit" us, hopefully ending up in some type of profit for our restaurant. We have also instituted game day. Last Monday our manager installed a rock band, wii, and play station in the less populated area of the restaurant that contains the larger flat screens to encourage patrons to come in and waste money while battling for their pride against one of our very talented Hooters Girls. Let's see how this works... I am VERY excited to show off my skillz. Thank you boyfriend :o)

P.S.
My mom recently purchased a Wii and a Wii Fit. We play every time I come over. Amazing. I"m actually sore.

Lucid

2009-06-08T15:43:00.000-07:00

I like going to work. It's a wonderful distraction. I am required to look conventionally attractive. I have regulars that come in specifically to have a good conversation with me. I receive a free meal during my shift. I feel taken care of. I work with hilarious and brilliant women. My managers care about my well being and give me wonderful hours. My hard work is appreciated. Everyone says thank you. I meet people from around the world. It fits in perfectly with my school hours. But then I come home alone and reality hits me. I can't keep running forever.

I am a mess

2009-06-08T10:40:00.000-07:00

As a naturally very healthy person, I've been a complete disaster lately. My previously twisted ankle is acting up again. I woke up last week with little to no hearing in my left ear. I'm congested and constantly sleepy. What is up with this?? I haven't worked at Hooters in a week now. A coworker offered to pick up my shift tonight and I gladly gave it to her. I called my manager and explained that I was still sick but had a replacement ready. "Well alright." He said "But you know I'd rather have you here. Get well and hurry back." Thank you so much for caring. I mean it.

Cutest Birthday

2009-06-04T15:56:00.000-07:00

At Hooters we have a few different options when it comes to dealing with birthdays. The easiest, and meanest, way is to just ignore them. Do nothing. But that's not going to earn you a very good tip. The half-assed/we're very busy/you're way too shy way is the birthday clap. And I'm not talking about Gonorrhea's street name. "HOOTERS HAS A BIRTHDAY SONG! AIN'T TO SHORT AND IT AIN'T TOO LONG! SING IT RIGHT GET YOUR WISHES! SING IT WRONG AND DO THE DISHES!..." So cheesy I know. But the even more cheesy, and most time consuming Hooters Birthday celebrations consist of dragging up the willing/not so willing and making fun of them in front of the whole restaurant on a microphone, giving them birthday spankings, and ending in either the dreaded chicken dance, the even more dreaded YMCA, or my personal favorite Hooters Hokey Pokey... "Put your right wing in! Put your right wing out! Put your right wing in and shake it all about!"

The other day we had a birthday on the patio. For some reason their Hooters Girl just wanted to do a birthday clap so we all went over and did our thing. But what touched me was the guy's girlfriend. They couldn't take their eyes off each other. As we sang out bit she was signing him the happy birthday song. She was deaf. They had the happiest expressions on their faces and the moment we finished with "Happy Birthday... TO YOU!!!" she reached over and gave him the biggest hug and gave him his gift to open. It was so touching. Their happiness was so pure and real. No one else compared to them that night. The other couples in the restaurant consisted of irritated girlfriends and drunk wives. This was real, unconditional love. The kind that doesn't really notice any other girl, the kind that lights up when their eyes meet, and the kind that takes their boyfriend to Hooters for his birthday because she wants him to have fun and be happy. Oh god, I think I'm overdosing on cuteness. I need to go lay down.

60

2009-06-03T10:18:00.000-07:00

Girls left now. Wow.

Depressed.

2009-06-01T14:10:00.000-07:00

When all of your efforts are ignored you can't help but begin to feel invisible.

Yes Man

2009-05-30T00:51:00.000-07:00

After seeing the film, my best friend and I left the drive in with open hearts and open minds, until the buzz wore off of course. I began to imagine the movie in my perspective as a Hooters girl. As a young woman in general. It could actually become quite dangerous. But imagine all of the crappy dates I'd be forced to go on. Sheesh.

Losses

2009-05-27T22:36:00.000-07:00

When I started at Hooters earlier this year, we had somewhere around 90-95 Hooters Girls on our team, including hosts, and certified trainers. Now our team has dwindled down into the low 70s, despite our many recent hires. Management is changing as well. Our GM, my favorite manager, has moved up to corporate and is going around to different locations, trying to help bring up sales at other stores because of his major success with us. But taking his place is the manager who seems to get on well with me, so I'm not going to complain. We've also had two additions to our management force; two newbies, both awesome dudes that regularly compliment my work ethic. Double score. Hopefully this edge keeps me afloat in this sea of chaos.

The Taming of the Cookie Monster

2009-05-26T14:03:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, not long after my hiring, I began to pick out the "usuals" in the restaurant. Among the many, The Cookie Monster stood out most to me. Maybe it was my resentment of being detested by another human by no fault of my own, but for some reason, I felt like I should say something to this guy.

It was late, and there were only four hooters girls left in the restaurant, including the bartender, when the "Cookie Monster" walked in. I'd seen him at the bar regularly, but still had yet to experience any reasoning behind his "name." The last of my tables was getting up to leave and I was finishing up my side work, when one task brought me dangerously close to this man. He looked over and our eyes met. I stopped. Do I say something? Or do I ignore him like he's been ignoring me for the past three months?

"Hey there." I smiled, trying to look occupied.
"Hi!" He smiled back.
I stopped. Was he really acknowledging me right now? His hard face turned soft, like a nostalgic old man. We exchanged pleasantries. He explained to me that he liked the first three letters of my name because they were the same as the first three letters of his name. Any time I'd walk by him, he's start on about the most random of topics. He could tell me a fact about any place. Specific dates. Important politicians. Animals. Weather. Everything. This guy was about as smart as he was socially inept.

One day he asked if I liked hot sauce, now every time I see him, he has a huge bottle of hot sauce waiting for me. Kind of weird but it beats the evil eye. I'm just glad I get escorted to my car after work every night.

Hooters Uniform

2009-05-21T22:07:00.000-07:00

Where might one find a Hooters Girl Military Monday uniform?? Seems like we poor Southern Californians are being deprived...

oh, hey there

2009-05-19T15:02:00.000-07:00

Yeah, it's been a while. Posts are becoming more infrequent. Moral seems low. Life is just a little on the busy side lately. Hopefully I'll have some interesting pictures and posts up here soon.

Love,
brit

Tuesdays can be horrible

2009-05-13T09:57:00.000-07:00

"Why?" You might naively ask. Well Tuesdays are all you can eat wing days at Hooters. As one of the busiest Hooters in the world, it's almost impossible to describe the chaos that ensues. Plates upon plates of all you can eat wings leave the kitchen in record numbers. Ranch dressings are consumed in artery-clogging quantities. We aren't paid nearly enough for the amount of work we do that night. Two "gentlemen" were sat in my section and informed me of an expected 8 people that were to join their party. It took at least an hour for the eight to finally get there, and I had to continually come back to take separate orders. Eventually there were at least 20 people crammed into two tables meant to hold a max of 7 people each. People were standing around eating wings. People who didn't order were eating wings. I had beer orders shouted at me from unknown locations. All in all they were taken care of, until the check came. "Can we all get separate checks?"

OK. For everyone who has never dined out before, if you're going out to dinner with 30 of your closest friends, bring cash. It really simplifies things. When the check comes, all you need to do is look at the price of what you ordered, and take that out of your wallet, plus a little extra for a tip of course, because you know your waitress went above and beyond her bullshit tolerance for the evening. Didn't think to bring cash? That's ok! You can always put a CERTAIN AMOUNT on a credit/debit card! Yep that's right folks! You don't HAVE to put the whole bill on one card! Then, when you get the receipt, you can add in the tip to the total and just sign away! It's THAT easy! But please don't expect me to remember all 30 of your orders when you must know I have at least three other tables to look after and you've ordered 5 different types of beer over the course of the evening. I hope you enjoyed my little dining out 101 course.

P.S.
If some of your "friends" leave the restaurant without paying their bill, you're stuck footing it. There is no get out of jail free card. If you don't pay for it, your lovely waitress pays for it on top of putting up with all of your shenanigans for the past three hours. So please, just pay the bill and maybe think about getting some new friends.

latest crush

2009-05-05T11:09:00.001-07:00

Beautiful and unique

Fired

2009-05-05T10:06:00.000-07:00

My close friend, who actually convinced me to apply at Hooters, was fired yesterday. She had received her final write up. The unfortunate thing about working at Hooters is that your write ups stay with you for the length of your employment at the restaurant. Even if you had been there for almost three years like she had. There is no renewal at the end of the year. Your slate is never wiped clean. I've been working at my location for little over three months and so far I've only heard good things. But there are circumstances that can occur that are out of my control. Like being walked out on for example. If that should happen, my options are: 1. keep it to myself and pay their bill or 2. the restaurant takes care of it and I receive a write up. Obviously I'd rather take the hit on my tips rather than receive a write up, but imagine being walked out on a $300 check? I think I'd still rather take the hit than receive a permanent write up. Her firing has reminded me of my mortality in a sense. I need to find some way to make myself more of an asset to the company. Like KH, I should probably let management know that I am interested in becoming a bartender. I should also aim to become a certified trainer, because although more is expected of you, I feel that they are also more likely to give you the benefit of the doubt in most situations. I don't want to lose this job. It's perfect for school. I work half the hours I used to for more pay. I need to be the best if I'm going to end up on top.
That's what she said.

Rude

2009-05-04T11:53:00.000-07:00

So maybe there's one girl I don't particularly like at work. Maybe. I mean, she's ok, but her complete disregard for any self-respect and intelligence just doesn't work with me. To me she's a poseur, completely infatuated with herself. The other day I brought some beers over to a table in the opposite side of the restaurant as my section. The two barnies sitting there did a double take and happily exclaimed, "wow! did you put some make up on and do your hair or something?"

"Excuse me..." I replied, rather confused at their statement. Was it a jab at my bad hair days or something? I mean I know I'm not perfect but jeeze...
"You're like, way hotter than our other waitress!" Idiot one giggled.
"Yeah more like ten times hotter!" Said idiot number two. They hi-fived. "Can you take her place or something?"
Wow. I looked around making sure nowbody was listening to this exchange. I politely smiled at them and quickly walked away. I had never heard a guy be that openly rude before. I was uncomfortable. Then curious. Soon I found myself at the host stand looking at the sections. It was her! The one girl I slightly don't like! It was her section. Gasp. The beezy in me doubled over in laughter.

Oh karma please don't bite me back.

2009-05-02T11:22:00.000-07:00

... she knew in her heart that to be without optimism, that core of reasonless hope in the spirit rather than the brain, was a fatal flaw, the seed of death.

-Anne Perry

silver lining

2009-04-29T13:22:00.000-07:00

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.

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

Photographer crush

2009-04-28T11:33:00.000-07:00

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.

Compliments

2009-04-27T15:36:00.000-07:00

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.
P.S.
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".

I love good reviews

2009-04-24T11:06:00.001-07:00

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...]

P.S.

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.

My creative side

2009-04-20T12:17:00.001-07:00

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

2009-04-20T10:52:00.000-07:00

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.

Italy

2009-04-20T10:45:00.001-07:00

Is where I am hopefully going this summer.

Last week my dad asked me where we should go for our next vacation.
"Italy."
"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."

Score.