Where's that 8 year old little girl?

Annie the movie was on tv this morning as I flipped through the channels and I just had to watch it. This was my favorite movie as a kid; I used to want to be Annie. Well minus the orphan thing and the big red afro!

When I turned the movie on it was the part when Daddy Warbuck's decides to take her to the movies. I never thought about it much as a kid but that guy rented out the whole 8'oclock show at Radio City Music Hall; that must've cost him a small fortune! Guess that's why they called him Mr. Warbuck's!

My absolute favorite character is Ms. Hannigan; Carol Burnette was hysterical in that part! I love that she was a drunk who was taking care of all these unfortuante orphans and she was IN LOVE with Mr. Bundles the drycleaning guy!

Anyways as I'm watching I can help but to start sobbing like a little girl! What the hell is this all about? It just brought back memories of childhood and my parents and stuff. I'm a bit sentimental with all that's going on with my dad losing his job. So there I am, 31 years old watching Annie and crying like a dope!

Why can't I be 8 years old again when everything was so much simplier? I appreciate the fact that my parents trust me enough and acknowledge that I'm an adult to tell me about the situation, but how I wish I could be their "little" naive girl again!

I know that somehow everything is going to work out for them and maybe it's truly a blessing in disguise, but I am scared. My parents have always been my pillar of security and I only wish that I could be theirs in return.

A Thanksgiving of Hope

I wanted to post about Thanksgiving of course but I had to do something different, so I choose this picture because it reminds me of family and growth and being grateful and life and other such thanksgiving themes.

I would like to say that I am so grateful to have grown up in a two-parent home where morals and values were bestowed upon me. My mother worked evenings as a waitress but always found the time to cook us dinner EVERYDAY. She packed school lunches, made us breakfast and also helped to support our family financially. My father worked during the day and when we he got home from work would heat up the home cooked meal my mother had worked so hard on before she had to leave for work. That is what a family means to me: everybody working together to get things done.

Growing up I was the only kid who's parents were married to eachother and lived in the same household. I couldn't understand why none of my friends were around on the weekends. I know it now but then it just didn't make sense to me. My parents are the two most important people in my life. They taught me that while life may and most of the time be unfair and grueling if you stick it out together, things can and will get better.

So on this day of Thanks I'd like to acknowledge my wonderful, supportive and still married parents who have shown me more love than anyone else in this world. I love both of you dearly.

Happy Thanksgiving Blogosphere!

Waitressing Flashbacks Part II

Here it is, drum roll please...

I wasn't going to name names but screw it. The restuarant that gave me most of my stories is one called EatnPark. This place is also where Moby Dick frequented. It is an establishment of crazies, both the employees and the customers. It's a chain similiar to Denny's or Perkin's and they have stores all over Pittsburgh and the surrounding area. I happened to work at the one in which Mayview state hospital must've had a prearranged agreement with because most of the customers there were certifiable-and that's no joke!

Getting down to business, here are just a couple of tidbits of what I and my fellow employees had to put up with everyday:

1. The Hamburgular

I was working the grave yard shift at the time and my store was known for battles ensuing throughout the dining area and parking lot as well, that's what happens when mental patients get drunk and then decide they need food at 2:30 in the morning. On this one occasion I was waiting on an enebriated man who slurred out his order to me; he wanted a Superburger. It's a double decker burger in between 3 buns. Like a Big Mac but substitute the 1000 island for tartar, ok so you know what I'm talking about. I proceed.

We had an extremely busy rush and happened to run out of superburger buns this night. I very nicely explained this to drunkie, and at the time he either didn't care or was to drunk to realize I was even talking to him. When I brought the burger out it was on a regular bun, it didnt have the classic middle bun. No big deal right? Wrong!

The guy started to freak out! He was screaming and crying and acting like a complete deranged idiot over a freakin bun, so what do I do? I dial #1 on speed dial: the local police precinct. We have them on speed dial because shit like this happens all the time.

The cops show up and I explain the situation, they seem amused by his reign of holy terror over a fucking hamburger. They go over and tell him he has 2 choices; he can either eat the burger or he can leave. He chooses neither option and starts to cuss the cops and damns me to eternal hell for conspiring agains Superburger Gods. The cops don't have time for his shit and are no longer amused.

The proceed to fight him to the ground and handcuff him. Before walking him out to their cruiser, they stop him at the register and the one cop reaches into the guys back pocket, pulls out a $20 and tells me to ring up the check and keep the change. I am delighted!

Guy really freaks out because he realizes that I am getting close to a $15 tip! What does a super waitress do in this position? I put the biggest smile on my face and say to the guy, "have a great night in the slammer Mr. Hamburgular and thanks for the awesome tip!

2. Toast

There is a group of women that I dreaded waiting on at the same restuarant mentioned above. They came in every weekday morning at 7:00 am and I swear to God they have the most difficult order I have ever taken in my whole 17 years of waiting on tables!

There are usually 3 of them, sometimes 4. Anyways they all order toast.

I know what you're thinking, what's so difficult about ordering toast? Let me explain...

Woman #1 ( and I am being gracious with the term) likes white toast, toasted only on the front side of the bread, not buttered, cut in 4's, butter packets on the side with strawberry jelly.

Woman #2 wants italian toast but only if the bread isn't too large or too small, toasted dark but not burnt, buttered lightly, on a dinner plate not the little plate with grape jelly and orange marmalade, and don't cut the toast because 15 years ago someone in the kitchen cut her toast with the same knife used to cut onions and she can still to this day taste the onion!

Woman #3 likes rye but she asks every single fucking time if the rye has seeds and when she is told yes she sighs and huffs but orders it anyway and if she's feeling really bitchy will ask you to remove the seeds, NO I AM NOT KIDDING YOU! She wants her's toasted lightly, soft melted butter on the side, a package of cream cheese and could you microwave it a few seconds cause if it's too hard it'll rip the precious seeded rye toast.

I could go on to woman #4 but I think you get the picture. Just stay the fuck at home and make your own goddamned toast!

These heifers still come in everyday, I know because my aunt waits on them now, so sorry aunt M!

Stay tuned for parts III- XXX; I could go on with these forever!

Bookworm lost without a read

Ok I know that I just posted but I need some help.

I am an avid reader and at the moment can't find anything to read! So anyone have any suggestions?

I like to read biographies, memoirs, fiction and the classics as well. NO romance or sci-fi.

Ok thanks
burnedout with nothin to read!

Monday rocks

I am HaPpIeR than a pig in shit today!

I'm still on a high from my awesome weekend at work! This is a rare statement that I actually get to make about my job as a waitress, but no less true for today anyways. Business was BOOMING this whole weekend and it carried into Monday for me as well. Thank God; I was really starting to think about prostitution as a way to supplement my income!

I love when I am reminded of how good I am at what I do.

Last night was a flashback of sorts to when I first began this hectic career as a Super Waitress. We were busy but everything ran smoothly. Tables got sat at just the right times, food came out of the kitchen promptly and correctly and customers were NICE, APPRECIATIVE, and COMPENSATING APPROPRIATELY! Pardon me and my use of all caps, I don't know another way to express my happiness on this here internet!

My grand mood has carried over to today as well, boy I must be on a streak of good luck! I aced my sociology exam today, I finally understand how to add and subtract fractions (don't laugh, you try and do it without a calculator after 15 years!) and I am off work until Friday. What more can I ask for?

Waitressing Flashbacks Part I

I've spent this past week consulting my waitressing friends and family members about their most outlandish restaurant stories and these are a few that we've hashed out. I hope you enjoy them as much as we have had experiencing them. With no further ado:

1. The Crisco Fiasco

This one comes from my mother and really me typing it doesn't give it the justice that she could, but since she can't even work an ATM machine... anyways it goes like this:

At a restaurant she worked in 20 years ago they had a glass, refrigerated case where they would put the pies and deserts on display. One of the best selling deserts they made was a pecan ball. For those who have never had this frozen orgasmic treat, it is a ball of vanilla icecream rolled in chopped pecans and drizzled with hotfudge and whipped cream. Pay attention, I said ICECREAM. In order to display a pecan ball in the case the manager made one out of crisco and it looked exactly like the real thing.

So my mother is waiting on this woman. It comes to the end of the meal and my mom asks the woman if she'd like desert, the woman says no. So the next thing you know, out of the corner of her eye my mother catches a glimpse of the woman opening the desert case and selecting the "pecan ball". Sure my mom could have warned the woman that she was choosing a ball of crisco, but what fun would that be? The woman, who was too cheap to order a desert, decided to take it upon herself and steal one from the case. BIG mistake.

After consuming half of said pecan ball the fatass calls my mother to the table and says "um, there's something wrong with your icecream, it tastes spoiled". To my mother's delight she (and I don't know how she kept a straight face) says, "well ma'am that is because you are eating crisco, the case you stole that out of is a refrigerator not a freezer and we have no way of displaying icecream".

Long story short the woman felt like a jackass and my mother got the satisfaction she deserved!

2. My aunt and I used to work together at a family style restaurant similiar to Perkins or Denny's. We had a big fat guy that used to come in and demand extra extra cheese on everything he ate. He was disgusting and rude and all the waitresses HATED him. We nicknamed him Moby Dick.

On said night, Moby Dick ordered a grilled cheese with double cheese. Let me tell you that this restaurant already loaded thier grilled cheeses with 5 slices to begin with. My aunt tells the cook to make sure she puts double the amount of cheese on Moby Dick's sandwich. This is now 10 slices of American cheese between 2 slices of white bread mind you, enough cheese to constipate a horse.

Fatass Moby Dick is unsatisfied with the amount of dairy product, of course and demands more. Ok, my aunt takes it back and now the cook is pissed. She is one to not hold back so in her infinate wisdom she decides she will give this guy the largest amount of cheese she can find. When my aunt is paged to the kitchen for her order I am standing there laughing my ass off. In the pick up window is a block of cheese in between two slices of bread. Like the whole block, like in the deli! My aunt is so hysterical (she actually peed her pants!) she can't even serve Moby Dick. I taking after my mother can definately pull this stunt off.

You should have seen the look on Moby's face!

Moby Dick never did ask for extra extra anything, and a few years later when he passed away, us waitresses danced around the kitchen singing, Ding dong the dick is dead!

There are tons more stories like these but this post is getting way too long so I'll give you some more in the days to come. Please tell me some of your work stories, they don't have to be restaurant stories, anything to get even or laugh about will work!