Drunken Sluts
Did I get your attention? Good. In my defense, I’m drinking Chambord and champagne and I’m a bit loopy. I’m not quite sure how this ever became popular because I don’t think it tastes all that good. Come to think of it, I don’t like Chambord much at all and have no idea why I even have it in the house. I think I probably purchased a box set because it came with some pretty glasses - I’m a glass whore. Hrm. That doesn’t sound so nice. Rather, I should say, I love to have the proper glasses for the drink at hand. And no, it’s not because my gig at the bar - I’ve been this way for a while.
White wine glasses? Check.
Red wine glasses? Check.
Martini glasses? Check.
Chimneys? Check.
Champagne flutes? Check. (Actually, I only have 1. Don’t ask, long story.)
Highballs? Check.
Sherry glasses? Check.
I don’t nor do I know anyone who drinks Sherry but I have the glassware so if you like Sherry, please bring a bottle to my house and drink some so I can finally use these itty bitty cutesy glasses. *takes another sip of C&C* Yeah. Still not feeling the taste. Maybe I didn’t get the parts right. Speaking of getting the parts right, I bartended on Sunday in addition to cocktail waitressing on Friday and Saturday.
*pause*
Ya know, I’m really not happy about that at all. I was mad about it, mostly got over it - R got wind of it, gets more pissed than I was and got me fired up again. I love that about relationships: you get pissed for your partner. It’s definitely a 2 way street because I most assuredly get way more heated when I feel R has been slighted than he ever does on his own. R has an uncanny knack of not giving one shit about what people think when he doesn’t like them to begin with, I really need to learn to be more like that. P.S. If you think I’m talking about you or someone you know then, well, I probably am.
Where was I? Oh yeah, so I got tricked into working on Sunday and I’d be even more pissed about working New Year’s Eve and Day if not for pretty much everyone being pissed off at the bar for various grievances, including the owner’s daughters. The owner is nice enough, she is, but she knows not one thing about running the joint despite her emphatic mindset that she’s SO on top of things. Yeah, one of those.
What I said in the earlier post about working on New Year’s Eve being depressing - so very true. We had a complimentary champagne toast that night so the other waitress and I hustled to get everyone a plastic flute - no fun with the dance floor packed and a bunch of sweaty bodies clamoring for a glass. Once we got those passed out, we walked around with the bottles, filling ‘er up for everyone. It worked a lot better that way than carrying a tray full of filled glasses. Despite being one clumsy momma, I’ll have you know I’m pretty steady with the tray - it’s the drunk asses stumbling around me acting like I’m not working here, bitch! - that can make things interesting.
I got back to the server well right when the countdown to midnight had begun: hot, tired and extremely irritated. I look up to see all these happy faces, dressed up, counting all excitedly, hugging each other, laughing, smiling, kissing and I said to myself right then: Never am I doing this again. Ever. And yes, I’m one of those people that actually does say “never” and mean it because when I make up my mind about something, it’s a sealed deal. Ask R. Never say never, my ass.
I didn’t carry my shitty attitude over to any of the patrons, I really didn’t. Every table I had that night was pleasant and surprisingly gracious in regard to the $2 hike in drink prices. You heard me. I thought a lot more people would bitch to at me about it but when they would question why their Long Island was $8 or the Tanqueray and tonic was NINE - and I informed them it was only that price for New Year’s night - they really seemed okay with it. I don’t know if that big of a hike is standard practice, maybe it is since people acted cool about it but it exacerbated my bad mood nonetheless.
Why? People don’t tip as much, understandably, and they don’t order nearly as many drinks as they would normally. Less rounds=less tips. I won’t bore you with the pitiful amount I ended up making but let’s just say I made almost three times as much the night following, with 1/5 as many customers. *eyebrow raise* Oh, and all that cash made in 3 days of busting my ass? It is safely tucked away in the cash registers at Target and IKEA. What’s the point of all this working again?
I’m done bitching about it now. That portion of my post was really more for me than you, sometimes it’s nice to blog about something and say: OKAY, I’M OVER IT instead of recounting the bitch fest to all my friends, family, passerby and Lionel. Lionel hears it all. R, too. But mostly Lionel. I’m joking. R would really want you to know I’m joking. Not that he’d fear people thinking I carry a full-on conversation with my son’s hamster but more so he not getting the full credit due for listening to me complain when I’m in a shitty mood.
Like I am now. I’m so sleepy, y’all. Go to bed, you might say. But no, what am feeling transcends mere sleepiness and floats up near exhaustion. It doesn’t help that Aunt Dot is in town. The whore.
Let’s recap the Gauntlet 2, shall we? First off - am I the only one really trying to dig TJ and can’t? I think I miss Dave. Nothing against you, TJ, you just ain’t Dave. Sigh.
The episode opens with the kids at a club, shaking their asses. Note to Aneesa: Drop it like its hot all you want, it still won’t detract attention away from the fact that you have the most atrocious haircut I’ve seen this side of an A-Team reunion.
Jodi’s crying in her beer or whatever alcohol she’s obviously drinking way too much of, staring longingly at Mark and Robin. Jodi says Mark and she dated for a while and he told her he loved her. *bawl* Mark says they dated for three weeks but he decided Jodi wasn’t for him. Fair enough, I suppose, although I’m not sure who I’m more mad at: Jodi for saying “a while” in relation to a tryst that lasted 3 weeks or Mark telling Hilary Swank’s younger sister he loved her in the same amount of time. And you know he must have laid the three little bombs on her in as many weeks seeing how he never once denied it. Heard from the mouths of babes aka Susie: “Mark’s, like, 5000 years old.”
Actually, SUSIE, Mark was born two days after me but, whatever. Whore. The girls, including that bitch Susie, take Jodi in the bathroom because it’s so much more private to let her cry in the stall while MTV subtitles everything they’re saying at the bottom of the screen. Apparently Botox Beth stumbles in the bathroom and gets the scoop and excitedly races outside to tell Robin all about the goings on in the bathroom. We only know BB is excited since she’s talking rather loudly - her face? Not an ounce of emotion.
Robin’s not really stressing the whole Jodi thing, professing to know all about it, til BB fills her in on the L-Word. And not that show that R likes, but that part about Mark telling Jodi he l-l-l-loved her. The bus ride back to the casa? It is tense. They are all drunk. Robin seems pretty even keeled and we all know how Robin can act when she’s drunk, remember San Diego? Mark, not so much. He’s acting oh-so-dumb, making me double-y glad R calls it a night around 2, 2 1/2 cocktails - tops.
Robin or maybe Mark yells something about them living together which doesn’t make much sense considering they both denounce their “relationship” every chance they get. Hmm… Things escalate with Mark ultimately demanding to be let out of the bus. He says in a (sober) voice-over something about the Gauntlet 2 turning into the Jerry Springer show. Don’t fuck so much, whore. They get back to the house and Mark is getting advice from some of the guys. Is it just me or did Jamie’s, from RW New Orleans, head grow about 3 times its normal size?
The challenge? Oh God, do you seriously want to hear about the challenge with all this drama going on? Okay, fine. Sigh. It was called Spongebob something or other and the kids ran around with sponges strapped to their body parts, humping other castmates in order to fill buckets full of ocean water. It was looking pretty naughty there for a minute, to such a degree that MJ says that he thinks he and Ibis may have a baby on the way. Only, I saw a preview of next week’s show, with MJ in some Speedos, and I’m thinking Ibis could save her money on the pregnancy test. She’s safe.
Rookies win. Is that right? I think so. They all look the same to me, really. Jisela volunteers herself for reasons unknown. She loses in the Gauntlet to Ruthie, not trying very hard to win at all, which in light of Cam-girl’s forfeiture last week leads not-Dave to proclaim, “The girls are disgracing the Gauntlet.” As if! The least y’all can do is appear on ANTM and have Tyra yell at you for not taking Reality TV seriously, by God!
The episode closes like it opened, with the kids at a bar getting drunk. I gotta give it to Robin for handling the whole Jodi/Mark situation as well as she did. She called a truce with Jodi saying how dumb Mark is anyway. That didn’t stop Robin from grinding on Mark, but, still.
To alleviate my obvious bad mood, I shall leave you with a few things that filled me with glee this past weekend:
A belated Christmas gift from a co-worker at the bar. I’m in love. With the Cuisinart, not the girl who gave it to me. Although, she’s way cool, too.
My many Target purchases included many Christmas decorations, 75% off. I’m wondering if its normal to damn near tremble at the purchase of a $7 tree skirt and if its conceivable to have another “holiday spruce” in the house come July, as to not have to wait a whole other year to use all this shit.
It’s a New Year and that deliciously adore-able, bratty, understanding yet hard to understand, supportive, caring, not at all sensitive in spite of his claims to be on par with Ralph Tresvant yet I will admit, I feel his love all the same - R? That man is still mine. Love you, brat.
I’m going to bed. The champagne is going to my head. *hugs*