Don’t tell me what to do (Unless I’m naked….)

Oh my God its been a whole month….I think I once mentioned that blogging for me is not like riding a bike. It gets harder the longer I wait and then it becomes this looming task like calling a relative you’ve been avoiding. Then suddenly you find out they died. NOW look what you’ve done!

So we are shooting for every other week.

Remember the fortune cookie game where you add “in bed” to the end of every fortune? Well I have my own version, except I add “unless I’m naked” to the end of every sentence.

It works just as well AND its true.

Try it.

You can’t talk to me that way! I’m a grown-ass woman! (Unless I’m naked….)

My feet hurt. I’m tired and I want to be alone (Unless I’m naked…..)

Ok. I probably am stating the obvious but unless you are a pig like me, DO NOT Google naked trash……

My point being that unless we are playing reindeer games, DO NOT tell me what to do. It is amazing that I have done the kind of work that I do for as long as I have with this attitude. At this point I actually have to pretend I’m naked sometimes just to get through. Picture this.

Sandy! Are you working or what? Bring me another beer!

With my clothes on you are in danger of losing a digit.

Naked? Sooo hot…….

Anyway after months of looking for work I have finally landed. This business and I are officially done with each other. The restaurant is a corporate chain. My favorite!

I have never done well at corporate. Because not only is everyone telling you what to do to your face, there are marketing people, accounting people and middle management drones trapped in cubicles who hate themselves and their sad little lives. They spend their days typing up memos full of useless bullshit that justifies their paychecks and validates their very existence.

Picture this…..A coupon for 50% off of everything. It will be good for the entire holiday season! We can dress the hostess up like a giant lobster! We’ll call it our “Red Hot Deal”

Yes I’m kidding but just barely.

Its okay. I am not invested. I am just going to show up. It reminds me everytime why am in school and living like a middle aged teenager right now.

And after the math test I took this morning I apparently need to be reminded.

The bartender that trained me is retiring after 27 years. She walks around hunched over and pushing a cart like its a walker. She is all of 58.

She lead me around the restaurant pushing her cart and telling me about the varicose vein in her foot that popped while she was in the shower that morning.

“There was blood everywhere!”

“So,  she asked me. “How long have you been in the business?”


Ok sister. Your cute as a bug’s ear, but you NEED to stop relating to me right now. You don’t seem to understand my core issues and if you don’t shut up I am going to go home and stab myself in the eye.

Right after I finish massaging the  the horrible knot I have on my on my back from carrying heavy trays.


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