dragonlady7

Hurgh. Got interested in something after the Cold Medicine from Hell wore off, and wound up not going to bed until midnightish. Hm, apparently I didn't post anything to lj; not like that's a bad thing, as I've been posting rather too much of late and am doubtless at risk of getting filtered... Woke up coughing violently, the kind where you can *feel* that you're hurting yourself as you do it. Stumbled out of bed, refilled humidifier, did a shot of Buckley's (vile, vile, and it burns, and it's only short-term effective, but it's damn effective for that short and immediate time), stumbled back into bed, checked the time-- surely it must be at least 5-- but it wasn't even 2 yet. Yeah.
Ugh.
So my neck and head hurt from coughing. I dunno... seems weird. I used to cough a lot as a kid but I don't remember that side effect.

Last night the Club was, as expected, ridiculously unbusy. Which is a damn good thing. I took generic Rite-Aid's version of Tylenol Sinus, which I've been taking all winter (because it's a dollar cheaper than generic Rite-Aid Sudafed Sinus but contains identical ingredients), and for some reason, this time it totally fucked me up. I was vaguely nauseated, dizzy, light-headed, confused, and unsteady on my feet. (Of course, when that kicked in, all the US Air gate employees were in the break room taking up all the chairs and loudly talking about wildly inappropriate things like boobs and asses and belly fat-- thanks, Louie, all my customers heard that-- so I had to lean on the bar and try to hold coherent conversation with the three people in the Club, who wound up watching golf on TV really loud to drown out Louie. Not that any of them were paying customers, by the way.)

I made $6, and then nobody came in for about two hours and I sat in the back room (once the US Air employees decided they had actual work to do) and leaned my head on the ice machine and put a paper towel over my eyes. And I thought to myself, "they fired the last guy for sleeping back here," and then I thought, "there's nobody in the Club", and I mentally prepared myself to, if woken, remove the paper towel, press my fingers to my temples, and say feebly "Oh pardon me, it's just this headache"-- but I didn't actually really truly sleep, though I was pretty close to it for probably 45 minutes.
Yeah, it was that dead.
I also had time to work through my pacing issues (and my sudden realization that what I was writing was crap) to get up to almost writing smut. Ha! I can only get the muse really going there right before I realize I have to get ready to leave. :p Not that I could bring myself to write smut at work. I don't think I could. I got a bit farther at home last night before I went to sleep, but still not to the juicy stuff. Smut is slow work. I'm getting faster at it, but not a great deal.

I managed to get out of work in a timely fashion, despite the fact that my brains were totally scrambled. (I seriously considered calling a supervisor and saying, "look, I'm really sick and have to go home," but I decided to tough it out and lo! I made it.) The Friday night Club girl, Cherrl, told me that the usual bartender there usually takes her bank out about 45 minutes early, goes and cashes out and puts it away, and then comes back to clean up so she can leave right on time. Thing is, a lot of other food locations in the airport close at 7:45-8:00ish, by coincidence (the flights leave, so they close because there are no customers), and so there's often an absolutely brutal line at the cash office, where only two people can go in and count their banks at once. And, the cashiers are a) less smart than the bartenders, usually [or at least less quick: bartenders make more money if they're faster so they get faster], and b) have bigger banks to count. This one girl takes an hour to count hers, and I am not kidding. (She also takes a full seven minutes to make a goddamn smoothie. I have waited in that line. She cannot multitask, this girl. Oh my god. Also, she counts her bank out loud.) So last night, i went over at 7:30 with my bank and waited for 3 minutes while a bartender put her bank away, and then did mine with no incident. At 8:10, when I breezed out to get my coat and clock out, there were four glum cashiers sitting in the hallway and another two inside.

So yes, Lucie is a genius, and I could've saved myself 5 hours that one week with this trick, but that's OK because I got paid overtime for them and it's the only goddamn money I made that week. (And yes, most of it got taken in taxes. Holy shit. The taxman loves overtime. Fuck you, Uncle Sam.)

Ugh, I feel like hell this morning, not just my head but my chest and also, inexplicably, my whole digestive system is in some sort of rebellion, which is why all this is behind a cut. Sometimes writing an lj entry will sort of collect me and help me get in the mood to survive the coming day, and I was sort of hoping things would come together here, but I'm only getting more confused, befuddled, and embittered as time goes by. So I'm gonna un-cut and attempt to be ... I don't know what I was going to attempt to be because I abandoned this sentence in the middle. Oh things are going very well indeed.

I have to work at 4. Which means I have to catch the bus at 3. Dave has to go to Rochester a bit before noon, and won't be back until 9. I don't know what time I'll get out of work. There's a bus at 7, a bus at 8:30, and then no more buses until morning, but Dave'll be by around 9, so I have to be absolutely sure I've got my cellphone and can keep in touch with him. I bet you anything I close the bar at 7 and miss the bus and have to sit there on my ass for an hour and a half and catch the 8:30 bus which takes so long to get home that Dave gets there before me. But that's just my prediction.

Well, i have until 2 to recover myself sufficiently to report to work.

Oh, I have St. Patrick's Day and the day after off. Who wants to go out?
*crickets chirp*
Man, I need me some friends that actually live in Buffalo.