Home at last, home at last. Thank Gawd Almighty, I'm home at last.

With apologies to MLK, again, of course.

My CHRIST, this day was just about too damned much, except I did manage to survive it.
So far.
(Which is gonna be more than can be said for the yapping fuckwad under the house. If that imbecilic twat doesn't STFU, I swear by all that is Holy, she WILL understand the phrase "duct tape" and all that that implies.)

It (the day) started out fine. Got to work on time, started slow, everything was copasetic.

Then, things got kinda... intense, for a while.

I was in my usual station. That's about nine tables. It's in smoking, too. Today, that didn't matter a damned bit. Not only was I getting "sat" by the hostesses, people were seating themselves in my station, damn it.
I could NOT catch up.

I wound up taking a few orders with eyes brimming and calling orders with a voice choked with unshed tears, but, God damn it, I made it. Only had to "lose" two tables to the chick on the other side of the room. (*snort* "Lose". Fuck LOSE. TAKE THE FUCKIN' THINGS, PLEASE!!! Just make it STOP for a minute! DAMN!)

The toast guy, who shall be known henceforth as "Barry", as in White, 'cause they're both cool, made me laugh at one critical point and made the difference.
Sure, I was still a little off center- I thought sure I'd maybe make it to my car before I really let go with the tears- but I ended up jeeest fine before I left.
Mostly.

After Hell Hour (or three) was over, I talked to the woman who so reminds me of my Aunt Carol and she clued me to a few things, so next time it happens (which is a matter of WHEN, not IF, unfortunately) I'll be able to handle it better. And, continue to NOT strangle either hostess.

I mean, really, I know it's not their fault... entirely... but for fuck's sake, ya know? Especially when the younger one giggles about it, like a weather forecaster grinning like the brainless dolts they are while discussing that foul, foul, four-lettered word I refuse to use.
One of these days... ugh, God. I am soooo gonna set her on fire, using only my eyeballs....
It could happen.
Believe me.

My hand to God, if looks could kill, I'd be handcuffed to a chair at the cop shop right about now.

I wound up bullshitting and joking with her, too, before I left.
Hell, I told the chick who took over my station at 4p that I loved her. Then, I started giggling like an unmedicated mental patient and left.

I only wished an immediate and incendiary death on about 4 cars being driven by what were obviously pod-people, as they didn't seem to understand the basics of "red light, brakes on... green light, brakes OFF and get the FUCK outta the way, Dillhole" at ALL.

Death Race 2000. (Or, whatever year they used.)
Know what I'm sayin'?
Does the name "Mad Max" mean anything to you (alleged) people "licensed" to drive by this Commonwealth?
I don't THINK so.
(Tim.)

*rolls eyes heavenward*

If I hadn'ta been talking to Eric on DirectConnect, I swear I'da been screaming out the window like De Niro in "Taxi Driver".

I just wanted to get home, peel off the uniform, throw it far, far away and be left ALONE.
Which I did.
So, world... HAH.

I made it.

Neener, neener, neener.

And, what's the best thing to do with a day like this one?
End it.

End it by returning to Utah, by way of Donny Osmond's autobiography.

Yeah, Donny Osmond.
So?

It's a good book.
And he's still cute, too.
He's no Tony De Franco, granted, but Tony hasn't written a book and Donny has, so I don't have much choice in the matter, now do I?

Right.

I'm gonna go now, BEFORE I end up in a fist fight with myself, which I will surely lose.

After this day, that's the LAST thing I need.

Peace, y'all.

Posted by: Stevie at 07:30 PM

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Posted by: AmyVegas at January 20, 2005 02:03 PM (iS3EV)

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