did that really happen?

no. it did not. it was a dream.

a fucking work dream.

being partially employed i spend just enough time at work to have it stalk and harass me while i'm unconscious.

in my dream i was taking the closing shift and instead of slowing down for the night the restaurant got steady business with the occasional large party until the sun had come up the next day.

we had run out of plates and glasses since the dish washer had gotten off at an appropriate time. they was no busser. we were running out of food and at some point my boss presented me with a hi-tech gizmo (for god knows what reason) that looked like a food processor, but when i turned it on it shot cheerio-sized copper rings into all the food i was just about to serve. tracy, my co-worker appeared and we started pulling these metal rings out of a large baking sheets worth of linguine pomodoro con cozze e vongole with our bare hands

i would try to tell people they couldn't sit and that we were done serving and they would tell me that they were hungry so i could go fuck off. they would order drinks that i had never heard of with ingredients i didn't have (or had just sold the last of)

there was a brief segue where i was trying to wash my hands in the bathroom at my elementary school but the sinks had been removed.

just as i was getting that overwhelming sense of failure. i woke up.

i either need a new job or a fucking vacation.

golden

today was the day i broke out of the winter funk.

it's been an entire winters coming. i get very hobbity and secluded when the days get short and dark, but not today.

today i skipped, i pranced, i sang, i played games with my sister, admired tulips for sale by the waterfront, talked san francisco politics with my favorite local journalist, made fun of really good-looking actors filming a really crappy t.v. show, saw a bollywood motorcycle scene shot on the same street as an episode of myth busters (apparently everybody got film clearance on the same day) and ventured through chinatown to pick up fresh bathroom accessories. i even stopped to compliment strangers on their choice of strange small dogs

i went with my manfriend to the ferry building to get lunch. i ate a hot dog--the best fucking hot dog i have ever had. 3inches of bun and 8inches of wiener. handmade saurkraut with caraway seeds. rough chopped dill relish. spicy stone ground dijon mustard.

manfriend had a burger. he is not in the habit of specifying doneness when ordering his meat. his burger was rare. he said it was the most delicious burger he had ever had. he just woke from a dead sleep to vomit. profusely.

apparently it is just not his day.

take flight

i recently took a trip to new hampshire...or what the locals call "the seacoast".

my flight left a few days after christmas. i packed one large suitcase because i really hate carry-ons since it means there's shit i have to carry. i usually pack one suitcase and just my purse.

i arrived early and while printing my boarding pass the attendant informed me that my bag was six pounds overweight. i could either take out six pounds or pay 50$. so i pulled my bag aside and opened 'er up.

i was in the middle of the airport struggling with my suitcase zipper in which a brand new pair of blue lace panties had become lodged. i was trying to be delicate but my pretty striped scarf had slipped and was now stuck in the zipper as well. flustered and pissed i finally ripped 'em out, cursing the airlines stupid bag/weight requirment and scaring an elderly asian couple.

once open i had some options. six pounds...well, a few things were for certain...the 2ft long 3lbs molinari salami was just gonna have to stay in the bag...and the 2lbs of brussels sprouts i was smuggling, well they would have to stay too.

the 2lbs of hiking boots...on my feet they went. favorite black cardigan went on over my t-shirt. then the knit duster over the cardigan. then giant puffy blue down jacket over duster. pink and yellow snow gloves i borrowed from my sister went onto my hands. mustard crochet hat upon my head and my purse stuffed to the brim with socks, books, tampons and fudge...i zipped the bag back up.

it was still a 1lb over, but i looked so fucking ridiculous she let it slide.

and...

im pretty sure the couple behind me in security hated my guts.

HA

dear old bitch at table 13,

remember when you walked into the restaurant at 5:30 and demanded a table for eight people? how the rest of your party finally arrived at 7:00? and how, despite the fact that we don't take reservations, we held the table for you?

remember how you mentioned to the three ladies you were waiting with that you wanted to order an appetizer and how i overheard you and brought a complimentary bruschetta?

remember how all of your food came out perfectly timed; how each item (with some sort of fucking addendum attached) was served as specified?

remember how nice the evening was and how polite i was towards you and your party?

and then remember how your friend asked for dessert and i kindly noted that we did not serve dessert? did you notice the window when you walked in that said the restaurant was over a hundred years old and has never served dessert?

did you bother to look at the menu that kindly asked patrons to limit the number of credit cards to two per check?

did you think i was out to get you when you screamed at me "WELL THEN YOU HAVE TO BRING US TWO CHECKS I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU HAVE ALL THESE RULES!! WHAT KIND OF RESTAURANT IS THIS!!!!!!"?

...i just asked if it was possible to not split the bill on four separate cards. my mistake, see, i had assumed that you were dining with friends. apparently that was not the case. whoops.

i have never spoken to anyone with the amount of disrespect you showed me.

were you having a hot flash?

seeing as you took up half of my section the entire night the 14% tip you left on $300 would have seemed paltry and i suppose it's your own fault that you didn't look at the bill and see the large disclaimer

"17% GRATUITY (already) INCLUDED" with a big arrow pointing to the total and a smiley face

:)

thanks for making my night, cunt.

sincerely,

your waitress

alive

yes i am.

sorta.

4:40am is not a bedtime.

this is a time when santa comes.

ha.

panocha

i speak three languages, one properly and two quite badly.

in fact, you could say i only speak one language.

the other two i mime and punctuate with dirty words and hand gestures.

there is one word ive embraced lately and that word is "panocha"

it means pussy in spanish slang

the reason is has become so pervasive in my lexicon is that i work with a lot of fungi

predominately porcini mushrooms and truffle oil.

todays appetizer smelled like underwear, clean and fresh at first

then, as the day wore on, it became increasingly pungent and heavy

combine that with an anchovy pizza and you've got the equivalent of a private room at the o'farrell theater dancing in you nostrils.

i wanna work at jamba juice

.

plated

so the other day i had a table of regulars who come in about twice a week for my super awesome roman style pizza at my slow food day job.

have you ever seen that bone china that is slanted and you can't quite tell is its a diamond shape or and fucked up square? well those are the plates i have at work.

these particular plates are rather difficult to get onto a square table unless you know how to line them up just right.

so i managed to get four plates and two round pizzas on one table and my regulars were impressed.

i responded to their compliments by commenting that "my attention to symmetry is unparalleled"

hahahahahahahahahaha

no one appreciates puns anymore