So, I AM PISSED. I wrote a huge entry. The fucker didn�t post and I got kicked off. WHATEVER. Here is what I posted earlier� only not as interesting * ahem *:
I wanted to throw myself off the fucking platform. Some genius decided he was going to peruse and listen to every single ring tone on his phone yesterday at the train station. WTF. I mean he went through ALL of them. At first you hear a phone ring and figure someone is receiving a call and they are about to answer it. The wonderment as to why the phone is playing Auld Lang Syne is diminished swiftly by the Can Can song. Not to mention these other piercing, beepy-fuck tunes: Oh Tannenbaum, Star Spangled Banner, the Cingular ring, Pachebel�s cannon, and many, many more. Oh joy above joys.* cough � sarcasm * It was annoying. I know this because the girl sitting next to me on the bench looks at me and tells me how much she thinks phone-man sucks. I told her that I was just about to jump off the platform. Her face got wide and she exclaimed to me, �Oh! That happened this morning. I don�t know if someone jumped or if they fell, but the R5 wasn�t operating today because someone was on the track.� I am an asshole. What are the chances!? I felt like crap and wanted to puke. I�m thinking I�m being funny in wanting to injure myself from the annoyance of the phone-commando and I wind up being morbidly ironic. Ugh. I�ll tell you of another time I was a victim of coincidental circumstance�
~~~~~~DREAM SEQUENCE/FLASHBACK~~~~~~
I was working at a micro-brewery/restaurant a few years ago right when I was turning 21. I am now 25, my birthday is December 8th, do your own fucking math and send me the answer � I�ll give you a bright shiny star. Anyway, I was a terrible waitress for the main-line area. Totally snobbish and wanted you to constantly fetch them things like refills and mustard. I hate getting people things. I am ALSO comforted by the fact that I am not a natural born waitress. I hated the politics of the restaurant business. Any wait staff employees out there? You get my kudos. It�s another world, I�m telling you. I had NO problem bartending at the biker bar though. They adored me. Apparently I make the perfect bitch. A bitch is the chick riding on the back of the Harley � the Lady of the Bike, if you will. Them telling me I make the perfect bitch = them worshipping me like a goddess. Bikers are VERY loyal to each other and are a difficult crowd to break into. Their compliment truly made me feel honored. But that�s a whole different story. Back to the Brew Pub! SO. I used to work double shifts all the time (lunch then dinner). But in between lunch and dinner, the place would be completely empty and we would finish up our side work at that time. The whole reason I stayed a waitress as long as I did was because I loved the people I worked for and the group of folks I worked with. They were AWESOME. One day I was explaining to my co-workers one of my many strange theories. The theory of the day was that ALL Peter Gabriel songs sound better being belted octaves higher by an Asian woman. I decided to back my theory up with an example. I proceeded to sing: �Beeg time, my head getting bigga. Beeg time, my eyes getting biggah.� We were all giggling when Ashley said I should try to be a tiny bit more quiet and pointed to one of the tables in the dining room. I said, �Oh, are there still customers here?� OF COURSE THERE WAS. One fucking table. Three people. Two men. One woman� and she was ASIAN. True story, but what are the fucking chances?!!
2:45 PM - Tuesday, Jun. 08, 2004
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