Super Witty Blog Title

Life, kind of.

Give A Damn.

I was driving in the car with a friend of mine when we came to a red light.  At this particular red light, a bunch of protesters were holding signs that said “OBAMA, PLEASE FREE TIBET.” My friend rolled her eyes and said, “Psh. What are those signs going to do?”

Well, considering Obama is currently across the country, probably nothing.

But at least they care about SOMETHING.  I think so many people (myself included!) have become apathetic about things we used to care about.

So even though Obama will never see those posters, these people still took the time to stand up and give a shit about something.  I think it’s impeccably brave and somewhat of a lost art.  It didn’t need to be Occupy Wall Street status (if you had to google that one, shame on you!) but these citizens still went out and gave a damn.

When is the last time you did?

Weird Phobias

Spiders, snakes, the dark….bring it on.  None of those scare me or intimidate me.  In fact, I once owned a pet snake.  Whenever there’s a spider in the house, I’m the one that takes care of it (DIE BITCH!)

But what really scares the crap out of me are whales.  Watching Free Willy is my worst nightmare. 


It all started when I watched Pinocchio.  Monstro the Whale….are you kidding me Disney?? SO FREAKING SCARY. Then my fear progressed to all whales, dolphins, and porpoises.  The thought of being in the middle of the ocean in a tug boat and seeing a big black shadow of a whale underneath me as lead to many sleepless nights.  Not that something like this would never happen (where would I even get a tugboat?) it just gives me goosebumps.

So then I got to thinking.  I’m not the ONLY one out there with a weird phobia.  So I looked up some other bizarre phobias and decided to share a few of my favorites. 

Arachibutyrophobia- Fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of the mouth

Cathisophobia- Fear of sitting

Ereuthrophobia- Fear of blushing

Genuphobia- Fear of knees

Lachanophobia- Fear of vegetables (should have used that one when I was kid!)

Ombrophobia- Fear of rain or of being rained on

Papyrophobia- Fear of paper

Peladophobia- Fear of bald people

Sesquipedalophobia- Fear of long words (I find this one ironic)

Taurophobia- Fear of bulls

Theatrophobia- Fear of theatres

Xanthophobia- Fear of the color yellow or the word yellow


I mainly posted this to feel better about my own irrational fear. Enjoy :-)

redwineandthemuse asked: i just read your most recent post and i'm already in love with your blog. lol. just thought i'd let you know. :)

Thanks so much!! I look forward to following your blog too!

Screw Timelines

I have friends who I like to expertly label as “timeline slaves.”  These are the friends that like to pretend they have it together.  I’m sorry…you’re 22, you’re not SUPPOSED to have it together.

While I’m a sucker for order and organization, when it comes to life, there’s really no point.

Let me explain.  For many of the people in my life, this is how everything will pan out:

The Career by 25

Meet the One by 26

Married by 28

First Kid (and it will be a girl) by 29

Second and Third Kid (twins, obviously, one boy and one girl) by 30.

Are you as stressed as I am??

Let’s break down this timeline.  First, having a full fledged career by 25 is exceedingly rare.  Many people switch jobs, have to intern for years on end, or start a new job as the lowest ranked employee.  Rarely is a bright eyed college grad promoted to CEO on the first day (in fact, I can’t think of this happening, ever.)

A career takes time, patience, and experience.  What 25 year old has enough work place experience??? YOU’RE 25! Making partner at the law firm, or being head surgeon isn’t going to happen for a long, long time. So stop kidding yourself.

Let’s delve into meeting the “one” by 26.  This is what seriously stresses me out.  What if Mr. Right comes around when you’re 27? Is your life over?  Did you fail?

What if….god forbid….you didn’t even meet him until your……30’s??? *horror movie scream*

Why do people feel the need to place an age on love?  Who cares when you meet your soul mate??

Now the kids part is what actually makes me laugh.  Wanting to have you first child by a particular age can really get tricky.  First off, I’m assuming you have The Career by 25, therefore are financial stable to take care of another human.

Second, you’re also assuming your reproductive organs are able to produce a baby when you want.

What if you try and try and try…but it’s just not happening?  Again…did you fail?

What if you keep trying and you finally get pregnant with Kid #1 when you’re 30…would you be any less happy?

Then, you have kid #1, and you’re assuming you will be ready for another round of spawn within a year. 

I think the kicker in all of this is people choosing the gender of their kids.  I cannot even tell you have many times I’ve heard “I have three girls and one boy” or “I want twin girls and a boy.”

Sorry sweetie, it doesn’t work like that.

What if you have all boys?  What if you didn’t have twins?  What if you could only have two children?

These time lines set people up for failure.  They are unrealistic and put a label on what a “happy family" should be.

And say for some reason, you ACTUALLY accomplished all these things in the timeline you wanted…are you any more or less happy then someone without a timeline?

Why not just screw the timeline and live the life you want?  Doesn’t that sound like more fun?

Food For Thought

As a bartender and cocktail waitress, part of my job is cutting people off.  If I think they have had one too many, it’s not only a moral obligation, but a legal one.  If I serve a beer to an obviously intoxicated individual and that person gets hit by a car walking home, or worse, gets behind the wheel of a car, the restaurant and myself could be be held legally accountable.

So why can I serve a bacon cheeseburger with extra ranch and mayo to a morbidly obese person without any repercussion?

Doesn’t that make me an enabler??

You may be thinking, well a drunk person poses a danger to himself and society, while the obese person doesn’t harm anyone.

Or do they?

What if I serve the bacon cheeseburger and this person has a heart attack?  Could I still be sued?

In addition, it’s my hard earned tax dollars** that will pay for this persons quadruple bypass surgery and diabetes medication.

People may say, “Refusing service to obese people is discrimination.”

Yeah….so is refusing to serve a drunk person.  I’m discriminating against drunk people.

So is refusing service to the guy not wearing shoes, even though he can’t afford them. I’m discriminating against the poor.

So is refusing service to the family whose kids are running around, screaming, and throwing things in the restaurant.  I’m discriminating against families who can’t handle their children.

But it’s a persons right to decide what they want to eat.

And I agree completely.  However, smoking was banned in most restaurants in the U.S. and Europe.  Smoking is a personal decision too.  When your personal decisions start to affect the people around you (**see MY TAX DOLLARS) it can be regulated.

As a bartender, I’m technically a drug dealer.  I make a living off selling a drug (alcohol) that could be lethal.  We’re taught how to regulate a persons alcohol intake and are prepped on obvious signs of intoxication (blood shot eyes, slurred speech, motor control problems, being a dumb ass.) 

But I have never been trained on a person’s food intake.  Food, just like alcohol, can be lethal.

But if you don’t serve them, they’ll just go somewhere else.

Fine. Go somewhere else.  Walk (if you can) down the street and eat a your bacon burger. 

This “they’ll just so somewhere else” argument is dumb.  If I cut someone off and they go to a bar across the street and get a drink, fine.  It’s out of my hands.

I did my job to the best of my ability.  If a person continues to make a bad decision after I’ve done my job, so be it.

What would the criteria be for refusing service?

I’m not a nutritionist, just a waitress tired of watching people kill themselves in front of me.  My guess would be some sort of BMI (body mass index) test. 

Yep.  If you look morbidly obese, you’ll get on a scale and have you’re height measured.

Sounds extreme?

So is dying at 35 from a heart attack because you’re morbidly obese.

Seriously, Stop With the Snapping Already

I think my two biggest pet peeves of as a cocktail waitress are the obnoxious people who think it’s appropriate to snap or wave their arms at me.  I think the arm waving is my favorite because you look utterly ridiculous, it doesn’t make me go to you any faster, and in fact, I’m going to just let you do that for a few more minutes.

But when I walk by and people snap their fingers at me….oh hell no.  If you think that will make me want to take your order, deliver your food and drinks, and clean up the mess you will inevitably leave behind, you are sadly mistaken.

I’m not a fucking puppy. Stop the snapping already.

The arm waving, while extremely rude, does add a little humor to my day.  Sir, this is a restaurant, not a rock concert, put your hands down please.

No Hablo Deutsch!

On a particular sunny Saturday, as I was getting people drunk off mimosas and overpriced martinis, I came to a table of well worn travelers. As if their various maps, travel books, and huge ass backpacks didn’t tip me off, they kept repeating “Deutsch! Deutsch! Deutsch!”

Did I speak German?

I’ve been to Germany twice, can count to five, and ask where is the bus stop, but that’s the extent of it.

Oh and I’m like 1/8 German, if that counts for anything.

It didn’t.

They rambled off in their native tounge about God knows what for a few minutes while I stood and repeated “nein German” (HEY. It was as good as I could get!) over and over again.

Finally, I took a menu and instructed them to point to the items they would like to consume. I didn’t even say anything, just pointed by finger at a few dishes and did a thumbs up or thumbs down motion (genius, I know.) Apparently this proved to difficult a task and they started yelling louder and louder, like this whole debacle could be better understood just by the pitch of their voices.

So, I walked away.

One of the men in the group got up and followed me around the restaunt.


Finally they figured out the pointing game and after all that….just got a cheese plate. Just one. That is all.


But this got me thinking. When I travel, I attempt to learn enough of the native language to get me around. At a bare minimum I learn hello, goodbye, please, thank you, how much is this, I would like to order…., can you give me directions to…, and where the fuck am I?

Apparently I’m a minority in this. Apparently it’s socially acceptable to plop yourself in another country and walk around talking to people and expect everyone to understand you.

Do we really disrespect other cultures THAT much? Are people really that lazy?

I guess.

So when I brought the damn cheese plate to the Germans, I couldn’t help but notice a lack of a single language book. In all the eight travel books they had spread out over the tables, wouldn’t you think at least one of them would be “Learn the Native Language, Asshole!?”

So Much For Hope?

When I was in college, every single day at least one of my professors would mention the depressing job market.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, I thought.  I had a 3.5GPA, my own office in a research lab, plenty of experience working and volunteering.  The “economic crisis” was only attributed to the white collar folks pulling 10mil a year…or the construction worker who got laid off because no one will buy a house.  Not me.  I want to be a psychologists, and economic meltdown or not, there’s still a ton of crazy people out there.

Which is why I’m baffled that I’m currently a cocktail waitress.  What the hell was I thinking?  I want to be a marriage counselor and now I serve alcoholic beverages and calamari to hungry tourists?  While I can spin this oh shit moment into resume gold “enhanced customer service skills, sharpened interpersonal, communication and organizational skills, strong ability to stay calm and efficient under pressure” blah blah blah, I can safely say I never saw this one coming.

So while I’m stuck waiting tables until I start grad school in January (and probably throughout grad school so I can you know, pay rent and have running water***) I thought I would share some stories.

I guess a perk of the job is looking in awe at the stupidity of the human race.  Watching people lose their shit when I accidentally bring the wrong drink or forget a side of mayo actually makes me smile a little.  I was once yelled at by a customer because I brought a roasted turkey sandwich instead of the turkey club.  I put the dish in front of him asked if I could get him anything else.  I checked back a couple of minutes later to see him devouring his sandwich.  When I finally brought the check he screamed at me “YOU FUCKING BROUGHT ME THE WRONG SANDWICH!” Um…oops?? You didn’t think to tell me this before you ate every last bite? At least you liked it since your plate is literally licked clean?

Another time I gave a menu to this woman who was dining with her family.  I came back to take their drink orders and she said “I came here about a year ago and got a really great glass of wine.”

Um. Okay.

So I just stared at her ready to take her order.  In the middle of this awkward staring contest I realized I was expected to remember what this lady ordered a year ago.  I have three problems with this.

1. what the hell?

2. I didn’t work here a year ago because I was too busy doing keg stands in college

3. um…was it red or white?

She let me know how disappointed she was in my inability to remember a drink order from 12 months ago by leaving a 5% tip. Seriously??? (***see RUNNING WATER)

Can grad school start….now???