Entries from June 2004 ↓

So, some Craig went ego surfing and stumbled upon my post about Stinky Craig. Who! by the way, was recently hired back by the valet company. I think the one Stinky Craig works for has a monopoly on the industry in Nashville; I’ve never seen any valets anywhere who work for anyone else. They should have their pick of people…and they go and hire Craig back.

ANYWAY. Some Craig discovered the post, which led him to discover that I have a distaste for all things Craig, as is stated in the first few lines. You see, I don’t have an actual problem with the race of Craigs out there, it’s just that I don’t have a fondness for them either. I am more than certain there is a perfectly nice, totally charming Craig out there reading this right now. Well, reading the internet at least. And I’m sure he is nice to his pretty wife, and makes jokes everyone laughs at, but I’ve never met such a Craig.

And the Craig that found my site is no exception. Be sure to check out the comment by Craig in this post and then the comment following his by his buddy, scott. Who, apparently, lives with Craig since they share the same IP number. He uses the words “tird” and “fair dinkum” and “anal.” He says that one twice.

Anyway, I just wanted to thank Craig. For reaffirming my belief in my ridiculous claim that all Craigs are kind of special. You made my day.

P.S. Not into the anal.
P.P.S. Yet.

I was the “on-call” person for tonight, which meant if anyone was ill I had to fill in. I crossed my fingers and prayed and just knew no one would call out on me two times in a row.

I went in this morning happy as a lark. Just a few more hours then I was home free, sliding head first into my abbreviated weekend. I checked the chedule for the evening and noted the presence of M.’s name. One of two male servers that we have where I work. M. is a tall man in his 40s with a deep, radio-quality voice who has fooled us all when it comes to his sexuality. Our restaurant has a large gay clientele and one very queeny bartender, but no one–none of us know for sure whether M. prefers the girls or the boys or the both. M. also has a serious case of alcoholism. He has been drinking for two decades, every single day. Even at work. He keeps a styrofoam cup above the coat rack near the bathroom filled with who knows what, from which he liberally drinks all the evenings long. He is always calling in sick, because he’s hungover or because he’d rather get drunk. That, or he’s already wasted.

Who called minutes later, but M.? He has a “cyst in on his foot” and doesn’t think he can make it in. Oh, didn’t I mention? It’s always an illness. He threw his back out. He’s got a horrible fever. He is enabled by the people I work for because they pity him.

And so I was told that I might have to run food tonight. And I almost started to cry.

I was waiting my tables and trying to manage a grin. I decided to confess to my manager that I was exhausted and really, really hoping that I wouldn’t get called in again. Twice. By M. Who is NOTORIOUS for this shit. I reminded her of Sunday, when he called out. She said “consider yourself off.”

I thanked her and let her know that I couls stay as late today as she needed me to. She accepted my offer and I was relieved to be able to make some plans for later tonight. I was able to not stick a steak knife in my neck.

Until I learned that M. was phoned twice and did not bother to call back. My manager told him he’d have to wrap his wound and make it in anyway, but he hadn’t responded. They feared he’d already beguin drinking.

So, I finally tried getting all zen and shit and just accepting that this sucks, as does life. Tried not to wallow in it. Just a few more hours. Again. I’d volunteered to stay late and now I probably had to come back. I would just try to forget today existed.

I tried resting on my break. I had to call in at 4:30 to find out my fate. Would I be going to see Farenheit 9/11 or would I be plating pate all night? I tried to calm my anxiety by watching Dr. Phil, but he was helping an 11-year ephederine addict, which made me even more nervous and jittery.

So, I had some sake to calm my nerves. I’d gotten myself all worked up, only a bit of rice wine would melt my edge. I phoned, heart thumping, shot glass in hand to learn that M. never called back at all. Which means he never officially called out. And I am off the hook.

So, now I’m having the rest of the sake. Then a fat nap.

I’ll let you know what I think about the Michael Moore movie. It’ll be the first of his I’ve seen.

New York Times list of the Top 1,000 movies ever made.

Those I’ve Seen plus Sporadic, Pithy Commentary:

About Schmidt (Really?)
Affliction
A.I. (Who’s been huffing what at the Times?)
Airplane! (If they insist.)
Aladdin (I saw this on a first real date with the first boy I ever fell in love with.)
Aliens (Sure, sure.)
Amelie
American Graffiti
Amores Perros (One of the most visceral films I’ve ever seen.)
Annie Hall (The masterwork from a master.)
The Apartment (On my top all-time top ten list every time.)
Apocalypse Now
Apollo 13
The Apostle (Highly recommended.)

Back to the Future
Bambi
Barfly (Thanks, Matthew. Word.)
Barton Fink
Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Beetlejuice
Ben-Hur (I would never watch this again.)
The Birds (Watched this at Jeremy’s place. That was the Night of the Fuckchair.)
Blue Velvet (YAYYY!)
Boogie Nights (I can’t watch that scene with Heather Graham and Julianne Moore where they are all GEEKED OUT OF THEIR MINDS and Roller Girl goes “Will you be my Mom?” and shit. Ugh. Gives me the heebie-jeebies.)
Boyz N the Hood
The Breakfast Club (My boyfriend showed me this movie.)
The Butcher Boy

Casablanca (Seriously. Between me and you. What a snore this movie is.)
Chicago (One of the few movies I’ve ever walked out of.)
Chicken Run
Chinatown
Chocolat
The Cider House Rules (Boo.)
Clueless
Cool Hand Luke (My boss at the video store played this all the time.)
Crumb (So fucking good.)

Dead Man Walking
The Deer Hunter
Deliverance
Desperately Seeking Susan (One of my Women in Film class’ screenings.)
Do the Right Thing
Dr. Strangelove
Double Indemnity (Also thanks Matthew. Word again.)
Duck Soup
Dumbo

The Elephant Man (Hooray!!)
The English Patient (I’m with Elaine on this one.)
E.T.
Europa, Europa
The Exorcist

Fantasia
Fargo
Full Metal Jacket

Gone with the Wind
Gosford Park
The Graduate
Groundhog Day (Sweet.)

Hannah and her Sisters
Happiness (Also in my top ten of all-time.)
Heathers (Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw.)
Henry Fool
High Art (This movie fucked with my soul.)
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These Gmail invites are like the herpes. They keep showing back up, being all, “No sex ’til we’re gone.”

Or something like that.

Anyway, if’n you want one, email me.

UPDATE: I’m now all out of invites. Thanks for playing, though.

One day last week I was totally slammed during my lunch shift. I had six tables, one of which was sitting dirty for several (or ten) minutes while I caught up on everything else. I finally get a chance to clear the large table when an onslaught of older, well-dressed women approached me. The ugliest one, in red, pulled out a chair and moved to sit down.

“We are going to go ahead and have a seat, is that okay, we’ve been sitting down there in the lobby a long time,” she asked in her sweetest Southern drawl. I immediately replied I’d need a chance to clean it off first before they sat down, at which time they turned and headed back to the foyer. I mouthed a big “WHAT THE FUCK?!” to the hostess Pam, whose last name is that of a famous, red swimsuit wearing actress.

Once they were properly seated I tried to forget all about the incident and make a fresh start with my table. I was going to anticipate their every whim and need to avoid having to hear their condecending voices.

Little did I know I would be totally unable to get away from their prattling, precious accents. These 60-something Southern belles were having lunch to talk important and pertinent issues. Politics.

Turns out they were in no real hurry to go anywhere or order anything or listen to me at all. Which makes me curious as to why they were in such a hurry initially to sit down at my still-dirty table. Anyway, the bits of conversation that I overheard were so incredibly sad but awesome that it totally made up for their high maintenance neediness.

I knew it was going to be good when refilling ice waters (half with ice, half of them without) I overheard the smallest woman say, “Why is Nancy for John Kerry? Can you tell me that?”

“Because she is so mad at Bush, I think,” said the woman who wore her sunglasses until the salad course arrived.

“Tell me why. Why? I hear everybody say it, but no one can tell me why they are mad at George Bush.”

A bit later I heard the woman who was wearing sunglasses tell the other four Republican women at the table why she would be voting for John Kerry as well. The shocked small woman almost yelled, “WHY? Is it because he’s for abortion?”

“It’s because I don’t want to vote for anybody who tells a woman that she has to have a baby. Because he’s all but ruined our environment. I really care about that stuff! I do!,” Sunglasses Lady said frankly, “And you don’t even want to get me started on this stupid war.”

“That’s hogwash! President Bush gave one of the best speeches on Reagan I’ve ever seen,” countered Small Woman, who folded her arms across her chest in disgust.

At meal’s end I was sad to see the debate end, and gathered up all the credit card slips–seperate tickets, naturally. Then I noticed the tips. The die-hard Republican ladies left me $2 each. The more liberal lady left me $8.

Just sayin’, is all.

What people were looking for when they found me instead:

BUSH ! THE OLD MANS JUMP LOOK LIKE A MONKEY TRYING TO FUCK A FOOTBALL

jonmc asshole

jonmc hate

“had sex” Murfreesboro

prize winning skin mole removing creams

effeminate hair boi

granny panty sex

hog honies

nasty videos of little girls boogers

hyena fake penis

Jonmc, I suggest you watch your back, bro.

Sometimes, especially when taking a nap between a lunch and dinner shift, I’ll start to have a server dream. The kind where you are sorting silverware in your dream while taking special instruction orders from tables, all the while wearing no shoes.

But sometimes, like just now, I’ll remember that it’s just a dream, and in my dream slam down the silverware, pull up a chair and tell my table to SHUT THE FUCK UP!

I’m taking a nap.

The reason for the slow trickle of posts is my serious lack of days off. There is so much to be done around this place that I hardly find time for the interweb at all. At least I’m not bored.

Anyway, I managed to take a few pictures and finally upload them. These are of our place and each other and of some spots we’ve been around Nashville. Nothing exciting. Just some snapshots.

I have three more Gmail invitations. The only thing you have to do to get one from me is recommend a really spooky/creepy book (that you have read) in the comments.

Not horror, necessarily. Or even anything supernatural. It can be anything, really, so long as it is weird and chilling.

At about 7:15 this morning I heard the VCB* roll out of bed and the next thing I knew he was talking to someone at the back door. After what seemed like a couple of minutes he came back to say that the new window we’ve been waiting on since before we moved in is now ready to be installed. Thankfully, the VCB told them that it would have been helpful if they’d tried to contact us beforehand in some way. They then asked when it would be more convenient and the VCB told them his day off was Wednesday. He knew it would be a big job, and the window crew, I think, agreed to that time.

I mumbled something about “good job” and went right back to sleep. Until 45 minutes later when there was this pounding on the back door. Once again the VCB rose and dressed and was told, this time by the landlord, that the window should be put in as soon as possible. Somehow, they agreed on the window puter-inners coming back at 9 a.m. This morning.

This morning when I was the scheduled on-call person, which means in case someone is dead, missing or injured, I get to come to work. This never happens. Not to me anyway. Anyway, I got up and got dressed and waited for the window workers to arrive, praying I don’t have to go to work today. I don’t call work to find out if I’m needed until 10:30. So, I wait.

And wait, and by 10:30 there is still no window crew. I make what I think will be a brief call to work, only to discover that D. has just not shown up. And isn’t answering her phone. Which is very unlike her. She’s been out of town and was probably just confused about her schedule. So, now I have to redress and look presentable enough to wait on tables who are making plans for their upcoming CMT video.** In, like, 15 minutes. So, I call the VCB and ask him to please call the landlord to let the window crew know that no one will be at home to let them in when they (finally) arrive. The VCB calls me right back to say the landlord told him they wouldn’t be coming until tomorrow. Obviously, the VCB expressed his frustration that we had never once been contacted about any of this, especially the change in days.

Fuck me, was I hot.
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