tuesday averted
Oct. 14th, 2005 10:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7Tough to tell, when listening to music loudly on a laptop, what the difference is between distortion and just bad speakers. Eh. Also, amusingly easy to wildly misinterpret lyrics.
Today a coworker and I were crouching behind the bar whispering about how we didn't want it to be busy and please, we were tired and just wanted to go home. And I said, "We have to remember this in about two weeks when it gets dead and really slow and awful and we're so broke," and my coworker was like, "I know, I know," and it's kind of like praying for rain and then being ungrateful for the floods, but Christ, was I ever praying that the weather would just be decent in New York so the stupid fucking goddamn 7 and 8 and 9 and 10 pm JFK flights would just fucking go already and not come into our bar all at once and all demand fucking beers at the same fucking times GOD. (And be stroppy when 14 orders of wings take more than 7 minutes total! Jesus, I meant 7 minutes each!)
"Just letting you know," the coworker said, "around six I'm going to hurt my back and have to go home."
"I'd better come with you, make sure you make it home ok," I said.
"Oh, ow," the bartender said, only she was serious, and we about had to carry her out. (The daytime bartender has a seriously fux0red back and is like 60, so it was funny for about a second until we realized she meant it. Aw shit! "That's what you get for mocking me!" the cocktail waitress said, as we attempted to reattach the bartender's legs to her pelvis.)
So motivation was low. Actually she left at 6:30, because it would've been inhumane to leave me alone before the 6:30 server arrived, but we were never actually totally slammed like yesterday. And the incident with the broken glass and I still didn't have the nerve to say "At least it warn't yer face bitch!" got repeated and bandied about and was funny, and the bartender had a band-aid but was ok and had stopped making an issue out of it. It was OK. Still I'm way tired.
Z's all happy because it's a Friday night, but we're both too tired to go out and I have to be at work tomorrow morning. And he'd just eaten a sandwich before I got home, so he wasn't hungry, so we just had box macncheese for dinner, and are both a little peckish still, but don't feel like going out to get something, but there's nothing in the house that we want to eat. So instead, we're drinking.
Good idea, right?
I just made Singapore Slings, but I forgot to add the grenadine, so they're roughly the shade of iced tea, and are a bit less sweet than usual-- which really, just makes it easier to drink them. Whoops! They're triples, you realize. Right. So I shouldn't make another one. but they're so good.
I finally got my package with exchanges from Bravissimo. I now have two white work-safe bras that are actually sexy under shirts-- not an easy feat-- and a raspberry (mulberry? whatever) tanktop with bra built in. The straps are like spaghetti; I've never actually had a feasible shirt this scanty in the shoulders. But I swear I'm totally supported. It's nice.
I still want frivolous boots, though.
Muh, the verdict is that I'm hungry, but really I'm not at all inclined to leave the house. Either I will be eating crackers, or will become more ambitious.
Mmm.
Crackers.
Though the sheer quantity of gin I've consumed has ensured that my back doesn't hurt.
Today a coworker and I were crouching behind the bar whispering about how we didn't want it to be busy and please, we were tired and just wanted to go home. And I said, "We have to remember this in about two weeks when it gets dead and really slow and awful and we're so broke," and my coworker was like, "I know, I know," and it's kind of like praying for rain and then being ungrateful for the floods, but Christ, was I ever praying that the weather would just be decent in New York so the stupid fucking goddamn 7 and 8 and 9 and 10 pm JFK flights would just fucking go already and not come into our bar all at once and all demand fucking beers at the same fucking times GOD. (And be stroppy when 14 orders of wings take more than 7 minutes total! Jesus, I meant 7 minutes each!)
"Just letting you know," the coworker said, "around six I'm going to hurt my back and have to go home."
"I'd better come with you, make sure you make it home ok," I said.
"Oh, ow," the bartender said, only she was serious, and we about had to carry her out. (The daytime bartender has a seriously fux0red back and is like 60, so it was funny for about a second until we realized she meant it. Aw shit! "That's what you get for mocking me!" the cocktail waitress said, as we attempted to reattach the bartender's legs to her pelvis.)
So motivation was low. Actually she left at 6:30, because it would've been inhumane to leave me alone before the 6:30 server arrived, but we were never actually totally slammed like yesterday. And the incident with the broken glass and I still didn't have the nerve to say "At least it warn't yer face bitch!" got repeated and bandied about and was funny, and the bartender had a band-aid but was ok and had stopped making an issue out of it. It was OK. Still I'm way tired.
Z's all happy because it's a Friday night, but we're both too tired to go out and I have to be at work tomorrow morning. And he'd just eaten a sandwich before I got home, so he wasn't hungry, so we just had box macncheese for dinner, and are both a little peckish still, but don't feel like going out to get something, but there's nothing in the house that we want to eat. So instead, we're drinking.
Good idea, right?
I just made Singapore Slings, but I forgot to add the grenadine, so they're roughly the shade of iced tea, and are a bit less sweet than usual-- which really, just makes it easier to drink them. Whoops! They're triples, you realize. Right. So I shouldn't make another one. but they're so good.
I finally got my package with exchanges from Bravissimo. I now have two white work-safe bras that are actually sexy under shirts-- not an easy feat-- and a raspberry (mulberry? whatever) tanktop with bra built in. The straps are like spaghetti; I've never actually had a feasible shirt this scanty in the shoulders. But I swear I'm totally supported. It's nice.
I still want frivolous boots, though.
Muh, the verdict is that I'm hungry, but really I'm not at all inclined to leave the house. Either I will be eating crackers, or will become more ambitious.
Mmm.
Crackers.
Though the sheer quantity of gin I've consumed has ensured that my back doesn't hurt.
