Entries from February 2006 ↓

• Free drinks. Man, I never bought anything to drink (excluding alcohol, of course). As a server and bartender I always had access to all kinds of beverages, and helped myself to them liberally. I’d snag Perriers behind the bar, or come in for free coffee fifteen minutes early in the morning. When I felt sick to my stomach I could choose from an assortment of herbal teas accompanied by fresh cut lemon to soothe my nausea. All without paying a penny.
• Good food all the time. It’s a good thing waiting tables requires an extended workout, because I was always surrounded by scrumptious food I eagerly partook in. Sure, much of the time I was starving and surrounded by beautiful dishes with no chance of eating for four more hours. But after work each night I’d end the shift with smoked salmon and goat cheese mousse or baked brie with crositini. After my lunch shift I’d splurge on hummus and feta salads or crispy fried green tomatoes–not exactly things I whip up regularly at home. These are foods a girl could get used to, and did. Now I have to pay full price plus tip for all that gourmet goodness, so I madly miss the daily meals out.
• Weekdays off. I never fully realized how glorious it was to go to the gym at 1 p.m. on a Tuesday when everyone was working. I always took for granted grocery trips in the middle of the day on a Monday, with their wide open aisles and short register waits.
• The server "tax break."
• Never having to decide what to wear to work. Strapping on an apron over all black for ten years left my wardrobe somewhat lacking. And tattered.
• Wine tastings.
• People who work in restaurants are often very funny. At least to me, anyway. I miss the laughing.
• Late night television.
• Drinking on Monday and Wednesday and Friday and Saturday. Then directly after Sunday brunch.
• The constant cursing.
• The customers. I got so used to interacting with a revolving assortment of freaks and fools that I took it for granted. In fact, I didn’t so much like the majority of them. That isn’t to say I would like them today, but I miss the fodder. I miss getting a glimpse of human nature for an hour or so–witnessing their joy over a new engagement or watching them struggle to choose a wine to impress a new date. I saw many tears and many missed chances. I miss peeking in on people at their most primal–eating–and investigating what I saw that day later in my writing. I think I miss that most of all.

I’ve seen an increase in traffic of late thanks to a spammer. I don’t catch all the comment spam that ends up at S&21, but this time I’m glad I overlooked it. The names that found are in this bit spam have been plugged into many a search engine, only to have the searcher end up at this blog.

Hey, since I quit updating every day* the numbers have plummeted. I’ll take traffic any way I can get it these days. Thanks, spammers.

*You’ll notice I’ve updated the last three days in a row, with two today. Apparently I’ve gotten my groove back.

Lady, them nails sure do look pretty. I also happen to find five inches of acryclic sharpened into lacquered talons flattering and attractive. I particularly enjoy the hot pink sunburst design that you have chosen for your manicure. The silver gem on each nail is a fine touch.

However, due to your giant fingernails you have taken five minutes to ring up an apple, a pear and a can of minestrone soup. You have also dropped my receipt, struggled to make change from the till and also nearly stabbed me in the wrist. I respect a certain amount of sacrifice for beauty’s sake, but you might ask your manicurist for something simple and shorter next time. Your work is suffering.

I drank the whole thing.

Last night my sister and her boyfriend came over. I whipped out the bottle of sparkling wine I’d bought the night before and popped its cork. No one wanted any but me.

It was very tasty. I spent a little more on this bottle than I typically do because it was Valentine’s Day. Not that that is really a reason. But the bubbly nectar was delicious on my tongue, and I couldn’t stop drinking it, even with the veggie pizza we ordered. Just after they left I drained the last of the dark glass bottle. I’ve never consumed an entire bottle of any wine or alcohol, except of course beer.

This morning I awoke to the boyfriend handing me a full tumbler of water. "Even your hair looks drunk," he told me. Two hours ago I think it still was.

Every breath I take is like inhaling a big glass of sand. I’m so tired I could sleep right here, sitting up, if I just closed my eyes and kept them shut. I considered calling in, but big girls don’t call in with champagne hangovers.

I will soldier on. But the blood in my veins feels carbonated.

I’ve done it.

While out walking Tootie this morning I saw a dog sitting contentedly at the front door of his home. The wooden door was slung open, but the glass screen door was closed, trapping the dog behind it. He just sat there, looking out the window, happy as a lark to be watching the cars drive by or the birds gather on his lawn.

Then it occured to me. I have a glass screen door. I can open the wooden door and allow Tootie a window to the world. This may seem like an obvious solution to you, but for whatever reason it never occured to me.

It never occured to me on all those mornings when I was trying to prepare for work at my computer with her paws digging into my back that she could be fully entertained by an open door. She is particularly wild in the AM, when we typically play the eternal game of In & Out, but now she is sitting at the door, peeking out, not barking or scratching at the pane or anything. Perfectly happy.

Like I said, I am a goddamn genius. Thank you doggie in the window on Thistlewood Lane. You’ve just saved my mornings.

Last night I dreamt that I gave my dog half a Benadryl to make her calm down.

I think this makes me a bad mommy on so many levels.