I finally had enough of the bartending gig... It sucked and I am just so not good at hiding my displeasure. I walked up to the annoying pretty boy owner and said, "I'm sorry, this isn't working out." and he said, "No." Those of you that know me know this one important thing about me, I dont take no well. Mr.Onion encouraged me to quit by carrying the 15 cases of wine that I was required to carry up into the attic weekly and instead carry it to the middle of the parking lot, tell them to fuck themselves and then leave. In that instant I was wondering why I insisted on doing the honorable thing. I was thinking, "NO?! NO! you stupid limp dick prick. I am quitting. The whole point is that YOU dont get to tell me what to do, so I can finish my shift and go on with our lives, or I can stab you with a fork and leave now." What I did was smile sweetly and say, "No, I'm not happy here and I need to be done." I think he must have seen that crazed look in my eye, because mr. I'm gonna bully you into staying backed down awfully quick. And I got on with the sleeping late and cheesecake consumption. Life's fine, thanks for asking.
Drive a stick in high heels? "Pretty Woman" a brownie at a selectmen? Whether that flaming item is underwear or a hot pocket I'm your girl. I call them moments of whimsy and this is the place where I take you along for the ride.
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