So this is the start.
Kindof dreary huh?
Anyways, its new years eve, 5:05 pm to be exact, and I'm curled up in a big easy chair at the starbucks down the road from The Boyfriend's house, typing up this little diddy for all of you. Ive got a nice warm cup of coffee on the table next to me, whipped cream and crushed peppermints sprinkled atop and the whole shop echoes of cheery smiles and exclamations of "Happy New Years Eve!"
HAHAHA, gotcha. There you go, assuming my life was simple. oh boy, have you got a HELL of a lot to learn. I am not, in fact "curled up" in anything. I'm actually wearing a pen skirt dress (that I just bought today. hoo ah!) and sitting rather uncomfortably, crossing my knees so none of the 21 and under baristas can catch a glimpse of my yoohoo. Practically impossible to curl up in one of these suckers. The "easy chair" is actually a stiff, leather carcass of a chair that keeps making profane noises everytime I move to pull my skirt down (sorry, 30-something reese witherspoon knock off next to me. I promise, its just the chair) and I am in fact wearing my coffee money as we speak, so no peppermint sprinkles for me. BUT, it is in fact New Years Eve. So see, i didn't lie the entire time. Counts for something right?
Ah, Onwards. This new years is going to basically uneventful. The Boyfriend and I may head to a bar about an hour away with a good friend of his, who is actually playing a gig there. For The Boyfriend, it means "beer, weed, and a sexy thang by his side at midnight." For me it means somewhat along the line of "I'm going to end up driving home aren't I?" Not too thrilled, but then I'm never much of a fan of New Years. One year down and lets bring in the next one with a little bit less noise this time, okay? My other choice of venue would be to head to The Ville. The Ville is about an hour from me, give or take depending on my hurry and the traffic, and happens to be the town my family and I moved to when we left California 4 years ago. The entire drive is a whole lot of nothing, but I drove it every day for 4 months just to see The Boyfriend, so it's not too bad for me. Gimme a good radio station and a clear road and WHAM! I'll be there in no time. My parents both live there, as well as a few of my good friends and my brother. Its a cute little town, although I'm sure it will still be covered in christmas lights and prancing wire reindeer covered in painted on snow. Not entirely in the mood for that. (It did, however, actually snow here this year! Not so much at The Ville, but Atlanta recieved some notable inches. Happened to be the first time in 60-some years that Atlanta had a white christmas. You go Atlanta.) Anyways, I havent quite decided if I want to head that direction. I'm sure I'll update you and just how noisy and hammered my new years ends up.
Onto Another subject; Yesterday, I applied at Hooters.
Yeah yeah yeah, que the disgruntled and shocked looks from everyone I know. Shut up, I'm not listening.
My experience there was not unlike my experience at any other restaurant, if all of those other restaurants happened to include orange dolphin shorts and 6 pairs of obviously fake boobs shoved within eye level. No i'm not complainging, hear me out!
I am actually looking forward to possibly working there! if someone like me, someone who is so obviously not a size double zero and has thighs bigger than a pixie stick, can get hired at an establishment such as hooters, than i can conquer anything! Anything i tell you! You think I'm making a joke? well here, let me review my entire experience for you right here, in this very blog.
It was a nice day out, not too cold and not too warm, but georgia weather constantly fucks with everyone in the state so I was bundled up expecting a snowstorm. I'd lost my job at Target the day before and was utterly dismayed. I would have three days to find a job and I had very little gas to do it with. However, out of the corner of my eye, I saw that ever welcoming orange haze: the Hooters sign. i thought it would be a joke, that no girl such as me could possibly work at Hooters. I mean, its named after breasts for God's sake and i have no more than a handful on each side. (Yeah, not so blessed, unlike the rest of my family) But...i couldnt help myself. I just HAD to. So i pulled into the parking lot, slabbered some lip gloss on and allowed myself to show a bit more cleavage (If it can be considered that. Think needle in a haystack) than I normally do. I sat for a second, catching my breath and soothing the butterflies and finally, I forced myself to go inside.
it actually wasn't too bad. The entire kitchen is visible from the entrance and back and forth pranced a couple of booby queens. They all pretty much ignored me, pretending to tally up tickets and count change (yeah, 'cuz you can count, right big Blondie?) A trio of blondes sitting directly to my left looked me up and down before briefly connecting eyes with me and turning away. Finally, an obviously younger girl approached me and stared me down. Obviously, I was supposed to speak right? Right?! Speak damn you!
"Ahh *cough* are y'all hiring?"
She merely looked at me for a second. She didnt have big breasts, actually hers weren't much bigger than mine and her hair was slicked back in a weird but distinguishing way. I think she must have been somewhere between 16 or 18, not much younger than me but definitely not older. We'll call her Miss Slick. Eventually, Miss Slick grabbed me an application and a pen and I seated myself across from the trio of blondes. They paid me no noticed, so I paid them very little as well. After filling out the application I flipped it over a few times, seeing if I'd missed anything. No references? No availability section? And good God, not even a mention of "why are you good for this job." Nothing. Sigh. I handed Miss Slick her pen and followed her to a counter, where a manager was waiting. The Manager was not at ALL what I expected. he quickly grabbed my application, scanned it quickly, asked if I had reliable transportation and what my schedule was like. I answered, with a smile and a slight laugh. I checked him out: No earing, no sleazy tattoos, no airhead comments about womans place in the kitchen. whodda thunk? Finally Mr. Not So Sleazy nodded and smiled.
"can you come buy to meet my general manager tomorrow at 4 pm?"
i could have hit the ceiling! I actually got an interview? holy crap on a toadstool! blah blah blah, picture me all excited, shaking Mr. Not So Sleazy's hand, thanking him and rushing to my car, among looks of obvious disdain from the trio of blondes in the corner. watch out bitches, EB is coming to town.
earlier today I got a call from The general manager saying my interview would have to be rescheduled for 3:30 tomorrow. Ive already got my interview clothes laid out and a nice big double push up bra. wish me luck!
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