Noiiiiice

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

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

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

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

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

Monday

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!

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

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

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?

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.