<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280</id><updated>2011-10-11T15:06:15.842-04:00</updated><category term='child youth services'/><category term='education'/><category term='bad manners'/><category term='DESPAIR'/><category term='lunatics'/><category term='books'/><category term='loss'/><category term='customers'/><category term='bosses'/><category term='service'/><category term='hair'/><category term='tables'/><category term='medical'/><category term='cell phones'/><category term='emotion'/><category term='clothing'/><category term='tips'/><category term='pumpkins'/><category term='anger'/><category term='morning'/><category term='age'/><category term='frustration'/><category term='beauty'/><category term='fresh decaf'/><category term='kiss of death'/><category term='oral communications'/><category term='work'/><category term='irritating'/><category term='disgusted'/><category term='sharing'/><category term='revenge'/><category term='halloween'/><category term='women'/><category term='math'/><category term='waitress'/><category term='customize'/><category term='thanks'/><category term='communication'/><category term='fall'/><category term='school'/><category term='depression'/><category term='pizza'/><category term='fashion'/><category term='fight'/><category term='angry'/><category term='FEAR'/><category term='proud'/><category term='Jesus land'/><category term='food'/><category term='bologna'/><category term='smoking'/><category term='color'/><category term='coding'/><category term='speech'/><category term='welfare'/><category term='america'/><category term='design'/><category term='food stamps'/><category term='raving'/><category term='sick'/><category term='Grades'/><category term='ADDICTION'/><category term='finals'/><category term='swearing'/><category term='HOPELESSNESS'/><category term='love'/><category term='texting'/><category term='stupid'/><title type='text'>Confessions of ME</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>149</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-1958989115856068162</id><published>2011-03-07T18:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T19:13:40.646-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's been so long since I've been here that I honestly forgot how to log in to my blogger account! That's bad....bad blogger. But hey that's me...BAD. No I don't mean like Michael Jackson BAD, more like when some weirdo yells in the park, "BAD DOG".  No not really like that at all, I don't know what I'm trying to say here folks. Maybe I'm just trying to win some of your attention back or maybe I'm just trying to spew this crap that's swimming around in my too full brain and my too empty heart. So much has been happening but really nothing is happening. Isn't life funny that way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's been almost a year since I started my new job. I guess it's going ok. Somedays I don't feel quite as stupid as others so I guess we'll categorize that as progress. Office politics aren't all that different than restaurant politics... neither are fair and neither make much sense to me. I try and avoid all the backstabbing, gossipy, fat-ass women who are out to destroy everyone who comes in their path. I'm a loner and I somedays I'm proud of that and somedays not so much.  Thank God I only half a half hour lunch.  It's pretty difficult to pretend to talk on a cell phone for 30 minutes so nobody thinks you're a loser since you're sitting there all alone with your pb&amp;amp;j.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case you can't read between the lines here; I'm lonely. And bored. And lonely. So I did sign up for a noncredit writing class at the community college but it was canceled. That sucked, I was really looking forward to using my brain for good instead of for denying elderly people their right to medical care. But summer is just around the corner and I'm hoping the sunshine will not only brighten the days but my mood as well. I hate when I get like this but after all these years I'm tired of fighting it too. What's the point really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm down to 20mg of methadone and that probably has a pretty big effect on this dark mood of mine. But I'm happy to be almost done with that place. I've had the same therapist for almost 3 years there and I wasn't all that thrilled with her on day 1 so imagine how not thrilled I am with here on day 984! She's one of those "I'm gonna save every drug addict that walks through my door" superhero kind of rich upper class college girl. She needs some bitterness. A few of her clients need to overdose. Need to die. Need to be put in prison. Then she'll be a better therapist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not reading this before I hit the publish post button cause if I do I'm almost positive I'll edit the crap out of it. It's a whole lotta bitchin in one little post aint it? So anyways here goes....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-1958989115856068162?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/1958989115856068162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2011/03/its-been-so-long-since-ive-been-here.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1958989115856068162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1958989115856068162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2011/03/its-been-so-long-since-ive-been-here.html' title=''/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-5096089960325726545</id><published>2010-11-25T10:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-25T10:36:36.581-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I REFUSE to let myself get all fat and squishy</title><content type='html'>So as you all know I recently changed careers. I was a skinny little waitress for 20 years and now that I sit at a desk for 8 hours a day, 40 hours a week, let's just say the weight has caught up with me. I'm no porko, but seriously my jeans are a little too snug for my liking. Plus now that I can't bank on making $400 in CASH this week, who can afford a new wardrobe? Certainly not me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work for a health insurance company and they offer all kinds of discounts and reward programs for "living a healthy lifestyle".  Ok so I'm not stupid...their um discounts include making everyone succumb to these awful, embarrasing tests. I was cool with the blood work, checking my cholesterol and triglycerides but when the nurse pulled out a measuring tape, I got a little uncomfortable. "What's that for" I asked.  The nurse kinda chuckled and explained that my company, who's looking out for my best interest (actually they're looking for the loophole to legally charge overweight/obese people more for their insurance benefits) would like to know my waist measurements. What can you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways, I've "passed" 3 of the 5 required tests so that my premium won't increase by $600 this year, just $300 because I'm godforbid a smoker. Legal discrimination is what I call it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to take some action on my ever increasing waistband...I joined a gym. Gasp! I've never had to work out ever before in my life.  Work used to be a workout for me. I used to punch in and run my ass off for 8 or so hours. Now, I sit. And I sit. And then I sit some more.  So I did it, I actually got out of my comfort zone and admitted to another human (atleast I think he was human, his muscles were popping out all over the place, he actually looked a bit fake to me) that I am unhappy with my body and I'd like to do something about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, what the hell did I get myself into? I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing in this place. I don't have my official "assessment" till  tomorrow but I figured this morning that I could just go to said gym and start Thanksgiving off on a healthy note. So I walk in and go up to one of the treadmills. I don't know what all those buttons are for or what they do, I just starting pressing them and off I went. I'm walking somewhere close to snail speed and the woman next to me is running on this thing like the fucking cops are chasing her! I swear I felt like the biggest loser there ever was. It will get better...I hope anyway. I'm gonna do it, I'll stick with it and maybe someday I'll be runnin from the cops on a treadmill too!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-5096089960325726545?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/5096089960325726545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-refuse-to-let-myself-get-all-fat-and.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5096089960325726545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5096089960325726545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-refuse-to-let-myself-get-all-fat-and.html' title='I REFUSE to let myself get all fat and squishy'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-1603356098505345626</id><published>2010-11-07T07:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-07T07:49:35.963-05:00</updated><title type='text'>S.W.F.</title><content type='html'>I feel like a little school girl! I have a major crush on someone that I work with. She is my mentor; meaning she's a senior processor that I go to with questions about claims and things like that. Did you ever have a crush on someone you know you just can't have? Well if you've never been there; let me tell you, it is no fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this woman is in no way shape or form a lesbian but that doesn't make me want her any less. She's smart, she's funny, and she's really good at her job. She helps me everyday and always has a lot of great advise and is supportive of me in this new career.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is time; oh my God is it time! I've been single now for close to 3 years and I don't want to be alone anymore. So where do you meet people? Got me, I'm not really a drinker and the bar scene ain't for me.  I tried the free internet dating sites but nothing really has ever panned out. I was thinking about putting a personal ad in one of the city papers but that's kinda scary. I guess though if I want to find someone worth my time, I'm gonna have to get outside of my comfort zone to find her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where are all the good looking, smart, funny, hard-working, intelligent, soft, caring lesbians?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-1603356098505345626?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/1603356098505345626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/11/swf.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1603356098505345626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1603356098505345626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/11/swf.html' title='S.W.F.'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-1576458509556738466</id><published>2010-10-18T19:17:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-18T19:25:40.662-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shutup Shutup Shutup....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/TLzXL3jq-0I/AAAAAAAAARQ/baS9EizKNPE/s1600/crying-baby-cartoon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529531041396226882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/TLzXL3jq-0I/AAAAAAAAARQ/baS9EizKNPE/s320/crying-baby-cartoon.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok so a very good friend of mine, who just so happens to also be my hairdresser, had a beautiful baby girl 4 months ago. Now every single time I've seen this baby since her birth she has screamed and cried the whole time. I talked to the friend one day last week and she went on and on telling me how "good" the baby is now. How she can keep herself entertained for hours on end. How she "laughs" and "coos" and "goos" and makes cutsie faces. So I start thinking maybe it's time I have this friend and her baby-demon spawn over for a nice little visit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I take the initiative and invite friend over for dinner this evening. In comes baby. She is very cute. Very fat. Very chunky. Very baby skinned. Cute. Cute. Cute. And screaming her fucking head off. This baby did nothing but cry and cry and then scream. Awwww, ain't she cute!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love my friend and well I guess I love her baby (ok that's just a joke, don't anybody go calling the authorities) but man was I glad when they left! Props to all you mothers out there. That is some tough shit to swallow!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-1576458509556738466?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/1576458509556738466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/10/shutup-shutup-shutup.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1576458509556738466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1576458509556738466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/10/shutup-shutup-shutup.html' title='Shutup Shutup Shutup....'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/TLzXL3jq-0I/AAAAAAAAARQ/baS9EizKNPE/s72-c/crying-baby-cartoon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-5933467157399353699</id><published>2010-10-15T12:05:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-15T12:17:09.207-04:00</updated><title type='text'>No Title</title><content type='html'>Well...where to begin?&lt;br /&gt;There's a shit load of crap going on in my head right now but I just can't seem to focus on one or the other enough to get it into words. Lots of feelings goin on: loneliness, pride, happy, sad, frustrated. This annoying little blinking cursor is antagonizing me; it wants me to write something, feel something, say something...but what do I say? What do I allow myself to feel? What do I allow myself to put up on the shelf and deal with later? Will any of it make a difference? How bad to I make myself feel about things that are just not in my control before I say fuck it and move on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've been thinking about maybe putting a personal ad in one of those city paper things. I know, how pathetic is that? I never thought it would come down to this. I just don't know how I'm going to meet someone when I don't go anywhere. I tried the free on-line dating sites and nothing really panned out. I guess I could try one of those ones they advertize on t.v. but money is tight and I don't know if I can justify paying for that in my head. No. I can't. So what's a girl to do? I am sick of coming home to no one. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy being single sometimes. It's nice to not have to do things when really all you want to do is put on comfy sweats and sit down with a good book. But you know, it really is getting pretty boring and mundane around here. I just want someone to have a good time with and talk with and well of course.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone have any opinions out there? Where or how did you meet the person you're with? Suggestions would be welcomed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This burnedoutwaitress is in desperate need of some help!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-5933467157399353699?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/5933467157399353699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/10/no-title.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5933467157399353699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5933467157399353699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/10/no-title.html' title='No Title'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-8921388154357919015</id><published>2010-10-10T12:26:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-10T12:38:11.302-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Stealing from another fabulous Blogger</title><content type='html'>So I just finished reading a post from one of my favorite bloggers, Lora over at Fever. I'd give you a link but I have really no idea how to do that. Sorry Lora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, she was posting about Halloween and at first I just assumed it would be just another of her witty posts. But this one really got to me. She was talking about ghost babies. I won't try to describe it, she's a much better writer than I and I couldn't give it justice. But it got me thinking and feeling about the baby/ies that I so desperately want. It's tough being single still at 32 with absolutely no prospects out there. I want a family. I'd be a great mom, I know I would. See but I want to meet "her", you know the "one". And I'd want there to be an "us" first and then have the kid but who am I kidding? By the time all that happens I'll be way to old to have babies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I think, I'll just adopt one. But Pennsylvania is all about handing out babies to single, lesbians, who used to shoot dope. Then I think that maybe I can go to one of those sperm bank things but I don't even know if we have any of those in Pittsburgh and I would imagine if we did have one, it would be way out of my price range. And really I don't want to raise a baby all by myself. They're a lot of work. Plus I'd want someone else there to enjoy all the great things, first steps, first words, first poops in the potty with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to play along with that game, you know the one, "It will happen for you, she'll come along when you least expect it",  "you're time will come". I don't play along anymore. It's just not worth the heart crushing blows I take when it doesn't "happen" and she doesn't "show up".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't mean for this post to be so dramatic. I just really want babies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-8921388154357919015?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/8921388154357919015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/10/stealing-from-another-fabulous-blogger.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8921388154357919015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8921388154357919015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/10/stealing-from-another-fabulous-blogger.html' title='Stealing from another fabulous Blogger'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-216847324279787960</id><published>2010-09-26T10:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-26T10:20:41.014-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Changes</title><content type='html'>Today is a beautiful day... I love fall and it's starting to feel like my favorite season is approaching.  The air smells crisp and there's just a slight chill in the air.  The sun is out but it's not that scorching, blaring, blinding, suffocating heat that comes with summer. It's just.... perfect. Jeans and a light sweater or long sleeve t-shirt weather. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With fall comes my favorite holiday too:  Halloween.  I used to love to get all dressed up as a kid and go carousing the neighborhood for all that free candy!  This time of year is just the best. It's now that I am at my happiest. Now if only I had a someone special to share it with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking foward to spending the day out at my parent's house. Dad and I will watch the game and roll our eyes when mom turns away.  She hates, hates, hates, football.  She'll huff around and make under her breath comments about the game.  The time it takes to play, the extreme amount of money they earn and blah blah blah.  I will do my best to ignore it and dad will just be dad.  After 38 years of marriage he's learned to tune her out; wish I could do the same!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways hope all you folks out there enjoy whatever weather your city is having today!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-216847324279787960?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/216847324279787960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/09/changes.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/216847324279787960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/216847324279787960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/09/changes.html' title='Changes'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-5234482115099856495</id><published>2010-09-23T07:10:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-23T07:15:51.181-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Freebie</title><content type='html'>Ever since I had all my hair cut off I've had to get up at 3:30 in the morning to be able to get ready and leave for work on time.  I hate it, the hair cut and well having to get up that early, the style is just too much work for me and it doesn't ever look like it does when my hairdresser does it. But anyway, as I'm driving to work I notice alot of street lights are off and it's spooky dark.  I think to myself that maybe, just maybe, we won't have any power at work and I can crawl back into bed.  Low and behold I pull into the parking lot and...... NO POWER! whoo hoo! freebie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now that I'm home, and wide awake, I have nothing to do.  Um, what can I do? I'm not used to being home this time of day.  There's nothing on tv, it's too early to go anywhere, man I never thought I'd say this but I wish I was at work!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-5234482115099856495?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/5234482115099856495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/09/freebie.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5234482115099856495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5234482115099856495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/09/freebie.html' title='Freebie'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-876462366821509947</id><published>2010-09-16T18:17:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T18:35:37.591-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Have you ever had to confront someone who's really important to you?  See there's this thing that happened many years ago that's been eating away at me.  I kinda stuffed it down and forgot about it until recently when some events happened and now that festering wound is bringing all that nasty bile up with it.  When I was using really heavily and my mom just couldn't take it anymore, she gave up.  She thought that if she gave me an ultimatum, her or dope, that I'd chose her.  That's not how drug addiction works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She shut off all communication with me.  We didn't talk at all.  Never.  Her and my father moved from the house I grew up in and I had no idea where they lived.  I didn't have their phone number.  I wasn't allowed to go to any family functions.  Not Easter, not Christmas, funerals, not birthdays, nothing. I guess she thought she was helping me. You know tough love and that.  But really it didn't help.  I'm not saying that what she did was wrong but I'm not saying it was right either. All I'm saying is that it hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to present day, that's all behind us and I've never really told her how that made me feel.  Like I said I just stuffed those feelings inside and tried to forget about them.  But now with my brother relapsing again, that abandoned feeling has come back up.  Why was it so easy to throw me away, forget that I existed?  Why was it so easy to say you didn't have a daughter, and why is it so hard for her to not do it to him?  He's always been her baby.  That I can live with.  But why can't she stop doing for him?  Why can't she see that she's not helping him?  She's enabling him.  He fucks up again, but he goes into rehab and all is forgotten?  Let's make sure he has cigarettes and spending money and rides to here and visits and telephone calls and and and.  What the fuck?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I bitter?  Yea I guess a little bit.  It's a fucked up feeling to wonder why you could be tossed away and forgotten but at the same time, your brother gets doted on.  Is it right?  Who knows.  I want to tell her how this all feels.  I don't want to hurt her feelings though.  My mother isn't one who can listen to critism or feelings for that matter.  She'll just get all upset and then I'll have to apologize and walk around on egg shells.  Augh! I just want her to know how bad she hurt me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll probably never tell her.  It's just how I am.  I don't like confrontation and I especially don't like to be hurtful to other people.  I just want her to get it.  I want her to help him, not hurt him.  He's never gonna get better if she continues to baby him.  As much as I don't ever want to go back to being a junkie, it sure was easier to not have to think about all this crap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just feeling a little lost and a little betrayed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-876462366821509947?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/876462366821509947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/09/have-you-ever-had-to-confront-someone.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/876462366821509947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/876462366821509947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/09/have-you-ever-had-to-confront-someone.html' title=''/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-8672817092968710392</id><published>2010-09-13T17:02:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T17:11:01.883-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh for the love of.........</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Maybe I am just a giant baby, but I'm telling you my tooth hurts. I just came back from the dentist/rapist/sadist/robber to have my permanent crown put on. I believed that the worst was all behind me...the drilling, the awful cauterizing, burning smell, and the dreaded root canal. I thought this would be a piece of cake. Just open my mouth and he puts that new shiny white fake toothy thing onto my de-rooted stub. So why oh why does it hurt?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm telling you that dentist is out to fucking get me! I hate hate hate the dentist. I hate the sounds, the smells and of course the cost. What in the world cost so damn much? Did I by chance order one of those Nelli grillz when I was all doped up on the novacaine/vicodan coctail? Really $1000.00? And it HURTS!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want my mommy......&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/TI6S4yckdTI/AAAAAAAAARI/3ar_tNAfCpA/s1600/grillz.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516508097887368498" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 202px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/TI6S4yckdTI/AAAAAAAAARI/3ar_tNAfCpA/s320/grillz.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-8672817092968710392?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/8672817092968710392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/09/oh-for-love-of.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8672817092968710392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8672817092968710392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/09/oh-for-love-of.html' title='Oh for the love of.........'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/TI6S4yckdTI/AAAAAAAAARI/3ar_tNAfCpA/s72-c/grillz.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-733350526224305980</id><published>2010-09-11T08:40:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T09:05:26.130-04:00</updated><title type='text'>There isn't a justifiable title for this</title><content type='html'>Today feels kinda strange.  It's of course September 11th and I'm remembering what it means to be an American.  I've gone through about 40 emails this morning that all tell me to make sure I have a flag out today.  Problem is, I don't own a flag.  How truly unamerican is that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know it funny, when I was a kid and all the adults were gathered around talking, they used to say things like, I remember exactly where I was when Kennedy was shot.  This day is like that now.  I remember where I was the day the towers fell, the day when our happy little bubble of ingnorance was busted.  I was sitting in a waiting room of yet another rehab center, waiting to be assessed by some undergrad who didn't have a clue as to what a junkie is.  I hadn't shot up yet and the withdrawal was starting to show it's ugly face.  My nose was running, my body was on fire, I was shivering and sweating, I was moments away from explosive diarrhea and then it happened.  Katie Couric and Matt Laur were stunned into silence as the second plane barreled it's way into the tower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For just a moment I forgot about me.  I let go of the selfish junkie monster and let myself feel human again.  We didn't know for sure what was going on but it was something.  This was no accident.  I was literally stunned into a stupor and just sat there watching the tv. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But life continues and today nine years later, I'm sitting in my apartment, miles away from the rehab center, that by the way I ran from, but the feelings and the emotions of that dreadful day are still with me.  My heart goes out to the people who lost their loved ones.  My heart goes out also to that preacher who thinks that burning Korans is going to somehow make up for the damage that the terrorists created.  It isn't the muslum religion that shattered our America, it was asshole terrorists.  Burning a holy book isn't going to change that, nor is it going to make any difference whatsoever.  All that's gonna do is start a fight that I don't think we're prepared for.  Can't we just stop killing and judging?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-733350526224305980?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/733350526224305980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/09/there-isnt-justifiable-title-for-this.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/733350526224305980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/733350526224305980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/09/there-isnt-justifiable-title-for-this.html' title='There isn&apos;t a justifiable title for this'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-8642856024053713222</id><published>2010-09-06T08:26:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-06T08:42:26.755-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Stair Master....</title><content type='html'>As you folks know, I've been a waitress for nearly 20 years.  I would consider myself to be a strong server, meaning I can handle a number of tables and give excellent service.  I take pride in doing a job well done, and it's rewarding to know you're good at something.  This skill runs in my family; almost all of the women have done this type of work, so it's "in my blood" so to speak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have lost the confidence I once had in being a good waitress.  I've lost my ability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few months ago, I finished school and was hired my an insurance company to process claims.  I had quit my job at the restaurant I had worked at, thinking my waitressing days were over.  I hung up my apron and threw away those god-awful, stinky black tennis shoes.  But to my surprize, I realized I missed waiting on assholes.  Believe it or not!  What I missed most of all was the cash.  It just so happended that the restaurant my mom works at needed a server for Saturday nights, so they hired me.  They didn't really even interview me.  I was hired based on my mother's performance.  She is one of the best servers I've ever worked with.  I'm not just saying that because she's my mom, I've seen her do some amazing things with just a tray and an order pad!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To get to the point of this blog....&lt;br /&gt;This restaurant I'm working at now, is by far the hardest job I've ever had.  Alot of things contribute to this but the number one thing is the steps.  I call them the stairs of death.  The kitchen is on the second floor.  So when you work in the dining room it's not too bad because it is on the second floor as well.  The bar though is downstairs and everything you need, you must hike yourself up about 20 rickety, crooked, slippery steps of terror to get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear to god, those steps are going to be the death of me!  They put me in the weeds and I can't ever seem to get out!  I run my ass off when I'm there.  Carrying trays of food up and down those steps for hours is no small feat.  By Sunday I am exhausted and worn out.  It feels like my body has been swapped with an 80 year old arthritic woman!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can't get the hang of it.  Every restaurant is the same, but each one is different too.  It usually takes me about a week or so to find my "groove" so to speak.  Well I've been there for over 2 months, and I am grooveless.  I make stupid mistakes, I forget orders, I spill things, I drop things.  I don't know what it is but I just can't get my ass in gear.  I am one of those waitresses you hate to have wait on you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will any of this change?  Probably not.  Maybe I can chalk it up to mental deficiency.  I don't want to be there and subconsciously it's showing itself in my abilities.  Just a few more months and I think my apron will go back in the closet.  For good this time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-8642856024053713222?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/8642856024053713222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/09/stair-master.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8642856024053713222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8642856024053713222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/09/stair-master.html' title='The Stair Master....'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-7769400582399479440</id><published>2010-09-02T17:13:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T17:30:19.524-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today is a lonely day. I'm sitting here patiently waiting for that someone special to just pop into my life. You know, "when you least expect it". I'm here but I guess the problem is, I'm expecting her to come knocking on the door with a bouquet of flowers and some Hershey kisses. Aha, hold on...is there someone at the door? No just wishful thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had a lot of time to get over my ex, something I never thought I'd be able to do. Time surely does heal all wounds. I'm so ready to have someone to share my life with again but I don't know where it is I'm suppose to meet her. I don't really go out much and I don't have alot of friends who could introduce me to people. What in the world am I suppose to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried the Internet, but I just don't feel all that comfortable with it. Maybe if I went to one of the sites where you have to pay, but money is tight and that's no guarantee. I never know how to "put myself out there" as the sites tell you to do. It just feels funny plus it's always the same people on these things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just in a rut and you know I'm not getting any younger. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy being single. I like not having to do anything when I don't feel like it. But really it's pretty boring and I'm too young to be this boring! Plus cooking for one is just a big fat pain in the ass!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although my last relationship ended very badly...she completely devasted me, we were very compatible. Or so I thought anyway. I wish I could find someone who has all the things I loved so much about her, minus of course the cheating thing. Can't go through that another time in my life. I mean that too! What is it with cheaters anyway? How can anyone cause another human being so much hurt? I've gotten off topic. Well not that there's really much of a point to this post anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know, I'm just feeling pretty alone and needed to share it. Isn't that what this blog thing is all about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for listening..........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-7769400582399479440?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/7769400582399479440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/09/today-is-lonely-day.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/7769400582399479440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/7769400582399479440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/09/today-is-lonely-day.html' title=''/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-1201692535601710995</id><published>2010-09-01T18:11:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T18:19:34.896-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Computer Geek ..... I am NOT</title><content type='html'>Ok so you know how your computer has that taskbar thingy at the bottom of your screen. It has those little pictures (excuse me ICONS) yea well I have a problem....my little speaker and the little computer with the globe that lets me know I'm connected to the internet have completely disappeared!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did this happen, where did they go, are they floating around somewhere in the control panel? Is my laptop just trying to piss me off? Well hey laptop..you succeeded! Just bring back my little pictures. I have tried going to that menu thing in the control center or whatever the fuck it's called but the little check boxes for my "icons" are turned off. You know how Windows does that: it greys out the things you want to check and now I can't hear any of my videos. Don't laugh, porn just isn't the same without the sound effects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But seriously if anyone can tell me in simple, clearcut, no geeksquad, plain english how to make these check boxes come back to life I'd be eternally grateful!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-1201692535601710995?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/1201692535601710995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/09/computer-geek-i-am-not.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1201692535601710995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1201692535601710995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/09/computer-geek-i-am-not.html' title='Computer Geek ..... I am NOT'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-2507771645744442847</id><published>2010-08-29T09:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-29T09:44:15.793-04:00</updated><title type='text'>TORN</title><content type='html'>What to write, what to write......seems as though lately I have all this "stuff" in my head but I can't figure out how to assemble it into something that makes sense. I guess it's the combination of all the things going on in my life right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I wrote in a previous post, my brother had relapsed and completely fucked himself yet again. I wrote him a letter and maybe I was too harsh, maybe not, but I haven't heard from him and I'm thinking he's probaby pissed off at me. But you know what, I don't really care if he's pissed, because well sometimes the truth hurts. As I was writing it, I kinda felt like a bit of a hypocrite. It took me many years, many stumbles, and many many fuckups before I finally got myself clean. In the same breath though, I have always been different from my brother. I've always been very independent and I've had a steady job since I was 13 years old. My brother can't seem to hold a job or take care of himself for more than 3 months at a time. He's a 29 year old man and it's time he grows up. He's one of the most unmotivated people I know. When I decided that I wanted to go back to school I looked into all these different technical schools here in Pittsburgh and I came across one called "Bidwell''. This place; although wasn't right for me, is 100% completely FREE if you live in Allegheny county. They have 100s of programs from medical coding to electrician to botany. I told my brother over and over to go down there and sign up. He's talked about construction since he was a little boy and they had a course he could take there to become certified, plus they help place you in a job when you graduate. Did he do it? Of course not, he made up excuses of why he couldn't do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am just about ready to give up on this boy. He's not gonna make it. Some people are just incapable of getting honest with themselves and change their lifestyle. I hate to say this but it's what I feel in my heart; he is just not gonna ever do what he needs to do and he will end up dying a drawn out and painful death. It doesn't have to be this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some reading this may think that wow, she's a cold hearted bitch who has no faith in her own family. This is not the case. Take it from me, a recovering person, it takes a shit load of hard work to get clean. As hard as it is, it's also a very simple thing. Life comes down to choices and whether or not you chose to drink or shoot a bag of dope is all up to you; chose to or chose not to but don't you dare make excuses. Live or die.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-2507771645744442847?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/2507771645744442847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/08/torn.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/2507771645744442847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/2507771645744442847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/08/torn.html' title='TORN'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-8815509293602399191</id><published>2010-08-26T11:33:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-26T11:54:28.145-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sadistic Dentist</title><content type='html'>I had my first-ever Root canal last night. In all honesty it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. That's not to say that I'd like to have another one done anytime soon! The thing is, how can I put this without making myself sound like a total infant?.........I am a big weinee. I don't like the dentist and I was pretty much panic-striken on my way there. I made it out to be the worst thing that could ever happen, and really it wasn't all that bad. I have to backup a little bit though and explain where this fear stems from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok so I hadn't been to the dentist in about 15 years. Don't give me that look, I was UNINSURED and couldn't justify selling my body for a floride treatment. Anyway, along with my "new" career comes benefits, so I did the adult thing to do: I made an appoinment for a cleaning. I knew the one of my back molars had a huge gaping hole in it but really as long as I made sure to chew on the right side of my mouth it didn't really cause too much trouble. I was hoping that the dentist would just rip it out and all would be well. Yea well who knew that dentists don't like to pull teeth?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Dunn tells me that "oh, no you are way too young for me to start pulling out teeth; they'll shift and you'll have other problems, overbite...periodontal disease, blah, blah...... I stopped listening after he said the words possible root canal. Oh crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He takes an xray and tells me he doesnt think it's that bad, he can save it with a little cleanup and a crown. Yea whatever, can I have my vicoden now? I had to go back this past Monday for him to "clean-it-up".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I sit down in the chair and look over, there it is........the giant novacaine needle. Yep the one I've been having nightmares of since last week. He gives me the shot on the side of the cheek, it pinched and burned but was over shortly..not too bad. Then he comes in my mouth again and I'm prepared for another cheek shot; oh no this sadist drives this 4 foot needle into the roof of my mouth! OMFG! Tears immediately welled in my eyes and my whole entire body was tensed up, I swear if I wasn't stiff as a board I would've reached over and fucking kicked him, that hurt so bad!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He starts his drilling and whatever and then breaks the news: "well it's all the way down to the root, you need a root canal". WTF?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I go see his associate, Heather, who was the most gentle creature alive. I get in the chair and immediately I go into panic mode, I just know that damn needle is going to rip into the roof of my mouth and I'm scared. I must have looked pretty pathetic. I'm a grown woman but I'm telling you I was so anxious I was in tears. I asked her if she was gonna do that roof of the mouth shot and the angel says to me:  "oh i only do that if it is absolutely necessary, I'm going to numb your cheek first and then give you the novacaine and if that doesn't work I'll try other spots before I resort to the palette". I instanly fell in love with this woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, Dr. Heather did not have to do the roof of my mouth and I am forever grateful to her for that! Also I am changing dentists, Dr. Dunn is a fucking sadist!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-8815509293602399191?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/8815509293602399191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/08/sadistic-dentist.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8815509293602399191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8815509293602399191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/08/sadistic-dentist.html' title='Sadistic Dentist'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-8498238476100484440</id><published>2010-08-25T10:36:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T10:54:51.543-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Brain Trash</title><content type='html'>Wow, it's been way too long since I've posted anything on here. I apologize for that...I really did enjoy blogging but don't really have a reason why I stopped. I'd like to say it's just life; you know we all get busy and let things fall by the way side. Oh well it is what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So alot has changed in the last few months. I started my very first "professional" job, I am now a CLAIMS BENEFIT SPECIALIST. In short I'm a claims processor for a health insurance company. I process claims for Medicare. Yep, government. It is frustrating at times and really I kinda feel like the enemy but I do enjoy it. It is definately challenging and makes me use my noodle. Not to worry though, I still wait tables on Saturday nights! I couldn't just give up that oh so rewarding job of serving the public! Well let me be honest; I couldn't just give up the cold hard cash!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did finally get the hell outta the restaurant I was at. Not that this one is much different, just new faces. Restaurants are all pretty much the same. One huge difference though is that my new bosses don't call me a C_ _ _  when I make a mistake. I don't need to fill in the blanks do I? I'm sure you folks out there who've read this blog in the past will be able to catch on to that awful word I'm referring to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life sure has been different. Gone are the days when I could stay up to watch the 11:00 news! I feel like an old lady, in bed by 9:30, I'm a little embarrassed to admit that. But when you have to get up at 4 am it's next to impossible to keep awake past 9.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family struggles are going on right now and I'm wading through as best I can. My mom is a different story. My brother has recently relapsed. He had close to 3 years sober and went out last week and threw it all away again.  Boy he doesn't fuck around when it comes to destroying his life. In 2 short days he completely threw away a good job, a place to live, and the little bit of money he had saved. He's in a rehab now, so atleast we know he is safe. My mom has absolutely no idea how to stop babying him. He will be 29 years old next month and has absolutely nothing to show for his life.  He's never grown up, never really supported himself and why would he, he's got mommy to do all that for him. Am I bitter? Yea maybe a little. Most of the frustration is actually geared toward the fact that he will never get better if he has someone to enable him to do the things he does. He will die if she doesn't stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try telling this to her.  You may as well beat your head off a rock. She is one of the most stubborn people in the world and that's her baby boy. I can only hope that she'll come to her senses and see that she is part of the problem but it probably won't happen. Until then I can only take care of myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which by the way, I've been doing a pretty good job of.  Well now that Ive gotten some of the garbage that has been swimming around in my head down here on electronic "paper" I feel a little less fucked up. Guess that's the reason I started blogging in the first place. Maybe I'll be good to myself and let some more of this trash outta my brain. Until next time.........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-8498238476100484440?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/8498238476100484440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/08/brain-trash.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8498238476100484440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8498238476100484440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/08/brain-trash.html' title='Brain Trash'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-3194277384804540928</id><published>2010-05-02T10:40:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-02T10:47:11.553-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye Sam</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S92QZyRoDhI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/FoLXgeyDyik/s1600/sammy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466684295364480530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S92QZyRoDhI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/FoLXgeyDyik/s320/sammy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Isn't it funny how attached we become to our family pets? My parents have had Sammy and Kiki for as long as I can remember. They were 2 of the nicest cats; a little shy but loving and finnicky as hell. They're old, atleast 15 and it seems as though Sammy has seen better days. She's stopped eating and is laying lifeless in the kitchen. Her breathing is labored and she starting to drool on herself. It's time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My father just called me, and I can tell from his shaky voice that he's trying to hold back the tears; it didn't work. I feel so awful for them, my parents, this is never an easy decision to make but we all know it is the right one. I cannot stand to see a helpless little animal suffering. Sammy will have peace now, she will be missed and will always hold a special place in my heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Goodbye Sammy, thank you for adoring our family and showing us the unconditional love of a cherished family pet. We love you girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-3194277384804540928?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/3194277384804540928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/05/goodbye-sam.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/3194277384804540928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/3194277384804540928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/05/goodbye-sam.html' title='Goodbye Sam'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S92QZyRoDhI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/FoLXgeyDyik/s72-c/sammy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-2467859736381417056</id><published>2010-05-01T09:44:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-01T09:55:27.179-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a little catch up....</title><content type='html'>Well the cable guy just left, let's hope my phone is working again. The strangest thing has been going on with my phone the past month; sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. It is exremely frustrating to be talking to someone and boom just like that the phone goes kapuut, I can hear the other person or all I hear is my own echo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must have called Comcast, the provider about a million times and the technician always goes through the same song and dance, is it hooked up, plugged in, does it have a dial tone, stick a pen in the hole and reset it, I'm going to send a signal blah blah blah. It doesn't work and I want someone out here to fix it. For my own sanity and for the well being of comast workers everywhere, it better be fixed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I've mentioned my ex before, you know the one who ripped my heart out and stomped all over it, yea well I am finally 100% over her. I've decided it's time to meet someone. Gulp. I'm ready and sick of being alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to someone about my dating dilema and she suggested I try internet dating. I was all like "no way only losers do that". Then she said that's how she met her husband; directly placing my foot in my mouth. So I gave it a try and low and behold I got a "hit".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we exchanged a couple emails and she sounded normal and kinda cute so I suggested we exchange phone numbers. I was talking to her last night and thought maybe we'd get together soon for coffee or something and she throws me this curve ball: She has to go back to Wisconsin for an indetermined amount of time to take care of her mom. Oh. Okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't mean to sound like a heartless bitch, her mom is sick with cancer and I get that she needs to be with her, but then why would you go on a dating site and actively look for "the one"? I don't get people. I told her I wouldn't mind just talking on the phone but really I'd like more, you know like someone to hang out with and get to know and maybe just maybe possibly get laid!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well what can you do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-2467859736381417056?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/2467859736381417056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/05/just-little-catch-up.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/2467859736381417056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/2467859736381417056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/05/just-little-catch-up.html' title='Just a little catch up....'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-7217779454614923027</id><published>2010-04-24T08:00:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-24T08:09:33.758-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Vanity?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S9Lfbabh_pI/AAAAAAAAAQw/ijV46Id8pvo/s1600/bigass.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463674959998090898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S9Lfbabh_pI/AAAAAAAAAQw/ijV46Id8pvo/s320/bigass.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok so I really don't consider myself to be a vain person. With that said let me tell you my recent revelation. I started my new job about 3 weeks ago, and while everybody who works there is very nice, smart, and competent, most of them are huge people. I really am not trying to judge or make fun, just stating facts here. Even most of my training class is full of overweight people. This is my biggest fear; being fat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've always been on the smaller side. I've never been overweight, but then again I've always held a job where I run my ass off. I am now sitting at a computer for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. The most exercise I get is walking outside to the smoking patio! I am so afraid that if I dont start really watching what I'm shoving into my pie hole, my ass is gonna widen and my belly will start to fall out of my pants. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I noticed the first 2 weeks that I was bringing all kinds of little snacks with me to eat at my desk: twizzlers, m&amp;amp;m's, pretzels, etc. I'm not even hungry, I'm just eating because I can. At most of the restaurants I've worked at we weren't allowed to eat during a shift. Of course this isn't to say I didn't snatch a few fries off of customer plates but really I was too busy to even think about eating. I no longer have this rule. I can eat all day at my desk if I wanted to, I could even eat my lunch there if I so chose to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So what's a girl to do? I have vowed to stop bringing in the snacks and force myself to take a walk everyday to try and burn this excess energy I have stored up. I can't believe I'm gonna say this but I miss the running and constant motion of my waitressing days! I know. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-7217779454614923027?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/7217779454614923027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/04/vanity.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/7217779454614923027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/7217779454614923027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/04/vanity.html' title='Vanity?'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S9Lfbabh_pI/AAAAAAAAAQw/ijV46Id8pvo/s72-c/bigass.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-2475326073283557837</id><published>2010-04-17T14:53:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-17T14:57:44.368-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Holy crap it feels like I've been away from my blog forever! I'm just trying to get my feet wet and adjust to my "new" career and life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my new apartment and so does Mia. She has tons of room to run around and stuff to get into! I am having a hard time lately coming up with anything to say and that's the main reason I haven't found myself blogging. I got nothin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna take a nap, since I can do that on a saturday now, thats a real kick in the pants for me. I've worked every single weekend for about 19 years and it feels strange to not be putting on a apron and going to work. Don't get me wrong, I love it, it's just new and something I have to get used to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping all you fellow bloggers have something to say and aren't experiencing the writers block that I'm having. I'm going out right now to check you guys out. cya soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-2475326073283557837?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/2475326073283557837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/04/holy-crap-it-feels-like-ive-been-away.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/2475326073283557837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/2475326073283557837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/04/holy-crap-it-feels-like-ive-been-away.html' title=''/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-4237128923443044551</id><published>2010-04-10T06:43:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-10T06:48:19.908-04:00</updated><title type='text'>BIG CHANGES OVER HERE</title><content type='html'>No I'm not changing my blog template, god knows I don't have any idea how to go about doing such things! I am officially no longer a waitress, I am now a claims benefit specialist. A specialist. Um, think of the implications. I completed my first week of training and lived to tell. It wasn't so bad, a lot of reading and signing. Everyone seems to be nice enough. Of course there's always the weirdo of the group and this training class is no exception! And yes mom, I found some friends to eat lunch with! I swear my mother still thinks I'm 5 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is also moving day. That's why I'm up at 7 am on my very first Saturday off ever! I hate to move, it is such a pain in the ass. Well I figured I'd better update yinz. Gotta get back to packing! Enjoy the weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-4237128923443044551?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/4237128923443044551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/04/big-changes-over-here.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4237128923443044551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4237128923443044551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/04/big-changes-over-here.html' title='BIG CHANGES OVER HERE'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-578341488498195030</id><published>2010-04-04T08:04:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-04T08:11:50.869-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Where are all those chocolate bunnies?</title><content type='html'>I wish I was still a little girl, waking up on easter morning and looking all over the house for my easter basket full of chocolate. When I was really little my aunt used to paint bunny tracks all over the house and driveway, proving to us that the easter bunny was there and hid our treats somewhere. I loved that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I am no longer a little girl and the easter bunny doesn't bring me baskets full of sugar anymore so I guess I'll just have to settle for a good cup of joe. One thing is for sure, after doing some major shopping yesterday, I definately have a new easter outfit to wear (minus the bonnet of course).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, my cousin finally came through and took me on a shopping spree yesterday. I found some awesome new clothes to wear to work. I ended up getting like 15 outfits for around $300. I was shocked at all the sales going on. Bonus for me. It kinda felt like I was on that show "What Not to Wear" and I was waiting for Stacey London and Clinton to come popping out from behind some manequin! The shopping went really well when you have someone to tell you what will look good. There's not one thing that I bought that I don't like and that doesn't look great on me. For once in my life I feel age appropriate in my clothes. I have confidence now that I won't look like I'm "trying" too hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough about material things. Wishing everyone a happy easter and a great weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-578341488498195030?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/578341488498195030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/04/where-are-all-those-chocolate-bunnies.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/578341488498195030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/578341488498195030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/04/where-are-all-those-chocolate-bunnies.html' title='Where are all those chocolate bunnies?'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-4518456134509772648</id><published>2010-04-02T08:26:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-02T08:32:38.248-04:00</updated><title type='text'>baffled</title><content type='html'>Why do people always disappoint? I know that we're all human and things come up but I try my hardest to do the things I say I'm gonna do. I'm feeling a bit deflated and well kinda pissed off this morning. I had made plans with one of my cousins to go shopping for some new clothes to wear to my new job. This cousin of mine is one of those people who always look great no matter what she's wearing. She has a sense of style that I just don't possess. So I asked her to go with me for some professional causual clothes I can wear to work. We first agreed to yesterday morning, then she moved it to 3pm, then to 5pm, then moved it to this morning. I woke up and low and behold a text: Sorry can we do it tomorrow morning, I promise I'll be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yea I guess but I won't be holding my breath. So those of you reading this who're thinking, god give this girl some cheese with her wine, I understand. It may not seem to be a big deal to most. Most women would just go shopping by themselves and not really think twice. I am unfortunatley unlike most women; I don't like to shop. I never know what looks good on me. I'm at a stupid in-between age, too young for juniors but too old for misses. What's a girl to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes I'll get over it and I may even grow a set and go to the mall by myself today and see what i can find. I'm still hurt though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-4518456134509772648?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/4518456134509772648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/04/baffled.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4518456134509772648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4518456134509772648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/04/baffled.html' title='baffled'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-8932873261858881743</id><published>2010-04-01T09:15:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T09:19:44.832-04:00</updated><title type='text'>PROMO</title><content type='html'>hello all,&lt;br /&gt;if anyone is feeling like they don't do enough to help out the community here's a great chance to do something good for the world and the people that live in it. Go over to Lora's blog &lt;a href="http://www.afever.com/2010/03/community-service-project.html"&gt;FEVER &lt;/a&gt;and click on the baby pic. Also if you're not already a follower, you should do that too while you're there cause this chick is Aces.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-8932873261858881743?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/8932873261858881743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/04/promo.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8932873261858881743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8932873261858881743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/04/promo.html' title='PROMO'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-1124446025910825284</id><published>2010-03-31T08:04:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T08:12:26.380-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ramblings</title><content type='html'>I took my Mia to the vet yesterday for her check up and shots. I asked the vet about the crying thing and he did a whole look over and said that he can't find any medical reason of why she's crying. He said that most cats that start crying are older and have lost their eyesight or have arthritis or something like that. She's only 3 so he said if I wanted to spend like $300 on blood work, he'd do it but doesn't think it necessary. I felt better about it and we both figure she's just "talking". Well I wish she shut the hell up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He gave me some medicine for her watery eye, 2 shots, a supplement to put on her food to help control her shedding and get this, some kitty antidepresants for the crying. Their called Clomicalm. I googled the drug and it says that it used on animals for "seperation anxiety". WTF? I'm not gonna give them to her. The website also said that along with dogs and cats, people can take this drug too. Um, ok, now I'm definately not giving it to her; I'm taking that shit myself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm starting to get a bit nervous about starting this new job on Monday. I'm super excited though too and I kinda wish it'd start already. I hate waiting. I am a very impatient person. Well I guess I'd better enjoy my time off while it lasts, the first 4 months are training and I'm not alllowed to use any of my vacation days. Wow that is the coolest thing I've ever written: vacation days. I never had a sick day or vacation day ever! If I didn't go to work, I didn't make any money! This is gonna be so cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-1124446025910825284?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/1124446025910825284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/ramblings.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1124446025910825284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1124446025910825284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/ramblings.html' title='Ramblings'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-4135243822794730679</id><published>2010-03-29T11:28:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-29T11:38:21.979-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My week of personal time has begun! Yay, there's so much for me to do I don't even know where to start. I know I'll sit down in my favorite old worn out recliner and curl up with a new book. That is what I like doing the best...chilling out, reading a good book and having my little Mia jump up on my lap and start her manic purring. Pure joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to go down to my school today to "officially sign out". What is this all about anyway? That was so stupid. I had to meet with my externship coordinator/career placement advisor. No offense or anything but I really don't care much for the woman. She is a little fake for my liking. You know the kind, talks to you like you're a 2 year old with that fake smile plastered onto her face. So we sit down and she hands me this form to fill out, kinda like a student survey thing. It asked me about a million questions about what would I do to improve the curriculum and that sort of nonsense that nobody is actually going to read let alone take into consideration. So I just checked off all the "excellent" boxes and handed it back.  She pursed her little lips and sighed. Oh well. Then, and this part kinda ticked me off, she asks me to fill out info about the job I just got. I didn't really feel comfortable giving out the information but I filled it out anyways, I just wanted out of her office. The last question I came to said that I should turn the paper over and on the back write down the salary that I will be making. Whoa hold the phone, what is this all about? I left it blank and gave it back. The first thing she does is turn over the paper and sees that I left it blank. She's all like you have to put your salary on this. I said that I didn't really feel comfortable giving her that info seeing as my name is on the damn thing. She said that it's purely for statistical purposes. I didn't feel like getting into this big argument so i turned the stupid paper over and just to make my point wrote down this figure:  $100,000.00&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid and petty I know but whatever I'm entitled to keep some stuff to myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-4135243822794730679?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/4135243822794730679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-week-of-personal-time-has-begun-yay.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4135243822794730679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4135243822794730679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-week-of-personal-time-has-begun-yay.html' title=''/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-6496321469263456036</id><published>2010-03-28T10:43:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-28T10:52:37.047-04:00</updated><title type='text'>HaPpY BiRtHdAy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S69sqeieSoI/AAAAAAAAAQo/7alZlqco47I/s1600/daddy%27s+girl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453697150776920706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 249px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S69sqeieSoI/AAAAAAAAAQo/7alZlqco47I/s320/daddy%27s+girl.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today is my father's birthday. Although he doesn't read my blog I'd like to wish him a happy birthday. Maybe by posting this, I'll be able to show you how wonderful of a man he is and how much I love him. I had written an essay for my English class about my dad. The assignment was to write about someone you admire. For me that is my daddy. He means the world to me. Of course I love my mom too, but there's just something special about the relationship between dads and daughters. My dad is my rock. He's the one I go to for advise or to just vent to. Anyways here's the essay I wrote for my dad, which he had framed and has setting on his desk at work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;There is a man that wakes up everyday unaware of how remarkable he truly is. He does not know how much he is admired and looked up to, what a special role hi plays in my life or to what degree his loved. On the outside this man is just like any other. He does not stand out in a crowd or draw any attention to himself. This man is the most compassionate, understanding and patient man that I know. This man, Thomas W. Fife, my father, my hero.&lt;br /&gt;In the fall of 1965, Thomas lost not only his father but also his innocence. When his father died, it left a void inside of him that could never be replaced. He became the man of the house, having to protect his two younger sisters. He was only a boy but the world around him demanded he mature and become an adult.&lt;br /&gt;Therefore, he grew up to fast. At 18 he joined the United States Army and was shipped thousands of miles away to the jungles of Vietnam. In that war ravaged country, my father experienced horrors that I cannot begin to imagine.&lt;br /&gt;The hardships of his life and the experiences of war molded him into the man he is today.&lt;br /&gt;When I was a young girl my daddy called me his “sugar bear”. As I grew up I pushed him away. He never said how much that must have hurt him. He let me go on to make my own mistakes, silently and in the background he was always there.&lt;br /&gt;My father never for one minute gave up on me. There were many years of my life that I poisoned myself with drugs. Even at my lowest point, my dad never stopped loving me. He hung on to the tiniest measure of hope that I would someday get better.&lt;br /&gt;To his relief and my own, that day came about three years ago. I have been moving past those dark days of addiction and I am beginning to see a light at the end of the tunnel.&lt;br /&gt;My father’s love and support has gotten me to the point I am at now. I’ve started my life over and I have begun schooling for medical coding.&lt;br /&gt;It is my father whom I can always depend on. The morals and values that he instilled in me all those years ago are starting to shine through. My hope is that one day I will be as good a parent as my dad has been to me.&lt;br /&gt;My father is my hero and he inspires me to do the best I can everyday to be a good person. Although I am 30 years old and all grown up, I still love it when he calls me his sugar bear.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-6496321469263456036?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/6496321469263456036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/happy-birthday.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6496321469263456036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6496321469263456036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/happy-birthday.html' title='HaPpY BiRtHdAy'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S69sqeieSoI/AAAAAAAAAQo/7alZlqco47I/s72-c/daddy%27s+girl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-3861408814154490636</id><published>2010-03-27T21:13:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T21:15:31.049-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Alice doesn't live here anymore</title><content type='html'>Well that's all folks; I am no longer a waitress! Hallelujah or however the hell you spell it! Sorry to report that my last day went pretty uneventfully. No funny or quirky stories to report. I got nothing here people...have a good night!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-3861408814154490636?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/3861408814154490636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/alice-doesnt-live-here-anymore.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/3861408814154490636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/3861408814154490636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/alice-doesnt-live-here-anymore.html' title='Alice doesn&apos;t live here anymore'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-4604200397164061673</id><published>2010-03-27T08:31:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T08:39:41.957-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Countdown</title><content type='html'>Well in about 12 hours I will no longer be a waitress. Today is my very last shift at the restaurant that I work at. The very last waitressing shift ever in any restaurant, I hope anyway. You know I post an awful lot about the stress and the crazy people I have encountered in my 19 years of serving, but when I look back on it; those were some of the best times I've had. The people that I've gotten to meet and work with have all touched me in some way. We, the restaurant people, are a special kind. Not everyone can do this job, it takes a lot of skill, multitasking abilities and of course patience. I will miss it. I will miss the money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaving this behind is a step into my new future but it's scary. I've never had to work for a paycheck. I just this week deposited 3 of my checks. I don't get to the bank very often, but anyways 3 checks still didn't amount to $100! Can you believe that? I will cope. I'll just learn how to budget. It will be different, but I'll manage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though none of the girls I work with know anything about this blog of mine I'd like to say goodbye to all of you. I hated you, I loved you, I worked with you, partied with you, went to your damn baby showers and birthday parties. I lived a lifetime with you and each and everyone of you shaped me into the person that I am. So for one last time I say to you:  86 the special!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-4604200397164061673?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/4604200397164061673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/countdown.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4604200397164061673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4604200397164061673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/countdown.html' title='The Countdown'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-1810536408546523007</id><published>2010-03-26T11:21:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-26T11:26:59.525-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Remember</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S6zSKR-Pq8I/AAAAAAAAAQg/YyaglHel4cg/s1600/cooking.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was rummaging through my old journals and I came across this entry. I don't remember the exact day I wrote it but I sure can feel the pain again. I've come so far from this that it almost seems like someone else must have written it. This is exactly why I've kept all these old journals...so that I won't ever forget where I came from and where I could go back to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;The flame dances underneath the dull, tarnished spoon creating a bubbling cauldron of poison. I drop the pillow of cotton into the hot liquid and as it absorbs the mixture my mouth waters and my body tingles. I draw my dose up into the needle, anticipating its numbing effects. The dull needle pierces my skin like a nail and I flinch in pain. I pull back on the plunger and watch the dark omniscient stream of hot red blood flow back into the syringe, and I push. The heroin slams into my vein like a roaring freight train, crossing over the synapses of my brain and washing my entire body in warmth, I am home, I am content. Smack is my lover, my friend, my medicine. I can no longer function without it. It is always there for me when I need it. It takes away the rawness of what my life has become; a constant search for nothingness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My body melts into the dirty chair, my breath catches in my throat; this is premo dope. I can barely open my eyes they are so heavy. My arms feel like lead as I try to extract the needle from my swollen vein. Blood runs down my arm, I lick it up like a dog. I can feel the nod coming on strong and heavy and I hold my breath waiting for it to take me to that place; the dark place where no light can enter, no thoughts can roam, and no feelings can be felt. Being on the nod is like being semiconscious. I can hear the others around me talking, but it’s just murmurs, nothing really makes sense but I don’t care. I am where I need to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I wake there is a long string of drool from the corner of my mouth and my body is no longer on the chair. I am lying face down on the filthy worn carpet and I am alone. They have all left to go score and left me here to die. This is happening more often, me falling out and not remembering what happened. It doesn’t frighten me like it should, it just is. I pull myself back onto the chair and rummage through my pockets for a cigarette. I pull out a little blue bag with the words Jaguar stamped on the front, and I remember that I had saved one bag just in case my body didn’t succumb to the shot I had just taken. I am playing Russian roulette with my life, waiting for the jolt that will end this misery. I light a cigarette and cook up my last bag of dope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a junkie. I am an animal. I do not bathe, I do not eat, I do not live; I scavenge. I am a lost soul. I am looking for death to release me from the pain that I am in. I did not start out like this. I was a smart, funny, and shy little girl who was loved and cared for. My parents raised me with morals and values and did right by me. I was not abused or neglected. I had everything I needed and most of what I wanted, so I cannot blame my upbringing on the monster that I have become. No, I am responsible for the decisions I made and the actions that I took. This hell that I live in is all my own doing. This is all that I know to do; use drugs and cover up the feelings and emotions that are dying to be felt. If I were to allow myself to feel these things I would surely kill myself.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-1810536408546523007?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/1810536408546523007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/remember.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1810536408546523007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1810536408546523007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/remember.html' title='Remember'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-3636661375089808646</id><published>2010-03-24T09:03:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T09:16:27.447-04:00</updated><title type='text'>To Be or Not to Be....gay</title><content type='html'>I can't believe that I have nothing to do or anywhere to be today. I finished up my externship yesterday so now I have the whole day to myself. I can anything I want or nothing; it's up to me! What a great feeling!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed doing my externship but I'm glad it is finally over. I was required to do 270 hours, which doesn't sound like that much; let me tell you, it is A LOT. I was doing 35 hours there a week plus working my waitressing job and I am exhausted and burned out! I was pretty fortunate to have gotten that site though cause I've heard some horror stories from other students. One girl told me that all her site allowed her to do was file old records for 270 hours; I'd kill myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor and his staff were very nice to me and never tired of my endless barrage of questions. I learned a shitload of stuff that they just can't teach you in school. Dah, that's why they make you do one in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I learned alot and truly liked the people there, some days were pretty akward for me.  The office manager is a born again christian. I don't know how we got on the subject, but she was telling me that her oldest son is a gay man who has AIDS. She then proceeded to tell me that she prays that God releases her son from his "bondage" of homosexuality. I was stunned to silence. I didn't say anything. It wasn't the place nor the time to get into some heated arguement about sexuality and religion. Everyone has their right to their own beliefs. I'm pretty calm when it comes down to things like that. Yea I'm gay but not everyone needs to know that. I wasn't really all that offended. She wasn't gay-bashing or calling him a fag or anything. She is just a mom who loves her son but doesn't really understand what it means to be a homosexual. She is one of a million people who think it's a choice that we make and that we can just turn it off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked one of my friends about what I should do. Should I tell her that I am gay too and that I don't see it as a "bondage". My friend kinda chuckled and said that she wouldn't say anything because then this woman would try to "save" me and start handing me little Jesus books and shit like that. So I laughed it off. Was that the right thing to do? Who knows. It doesn't really matter. I know who I am and I also know in my heart that god made me this way, it isn't bondage or a burden, it's just a part of who I am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-3636661375089808646?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/3636661375089808646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/to-be-or-not-to-begay.html#comment-form' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/3636661375089808646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/3636661375089808646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/to-be-or-not-to-begay.html' title='To Be or Not to Be....gay'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-4597948847467168149</id><published>2010-03-22T06:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-22T06:17:15.851-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Is There a Vet in the House?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Somebody anybody needs to help me before I kill her. Seriously, do they perform voiceboxectomies on cats? I need one stat for my Mia. She is driving me absolutely apeshit with her constant meowing. It is incessant. Meoooooow, meooooow, meoooooow....you get the picture.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know what her problem is. I have tried everything imaginable to ease her discomfort or whatever it is she's crying about. Treats, tricks, toys, soft food, you name it I've tried it. I cant stand it anymore! Anyone looking for a cute, cuddly little puddy cat to share their insanity with, gimme a call. I'll pay you to take her.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451400034290271122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 393px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S6dDcsxsg5I/AAAAAAAAAQY/PaohRVtUYzs/s400/mia.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-4597948847467168149?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/4597948847467168149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/is-there-vet-in-house.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4597948847467168149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4597948847467168149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/is-there-vet-in-house.html' title='Is There a Vet in the House?'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S6dDcsxsg5I/AAAAAAAAAQY/PaohRVtUYzs/s72-c/mia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-9076061420471962587</id><published>2010-03-20T09:00:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-20T09:10:17.083-04:00</updated><title type='text'>5 more shifts....</title><content type='html'>Oh thank God I only have to work at that restaurant 5 more times! The "games" have begun. My bosses are two of the most spiteful people I have ever met, and last night their personality shown through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is lent. That means Fridays are crazy insane busy. We sell about 30 million pieces of fish, that may be an exageration but you get the idea. So to save myself and the other servers a few steps, I always make up cups of tartar and coctail ahead of time. Now I've been doing this since lent began a month or so ago. I put the sauces in little platic cups called souflee cups. I put lids on them so that I could stack them and so that no crumbs or shit get in them. My boss came up behind me as I finished the last one and took them. I said to him, "where are you taking them, I already made some up for the to go's these are for the servers"?. He proceeded to ream me a new asshole because I put lids on them. "A case of those lids cost $30". Ok whatever. I was pissed off, he took away all my sauces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other things happened throughout the night, like at one point every server was running around like a chicken with their heads cut off, and I was standing there with only 1 table. There was a line of people waiting to be seated and my whole section was empty. They refused to seat me until I took it upon myself and starting taking customers back and sat myself. The last and final straw that really had me infuriated was when toward the end when things are settling down and it was time to cut the floor. I had 1 table that was finishing up but instead of cutting me, they cut the "princess" who had a party of 18 that still hadn't eaten. WTF! I probably shouldve just walked out and told them to go fuck themselves but that is what they want me to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pray for me people! I just might end up going to prison before I get to start my new job!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;have a great weekend everybody and don't forget to tip your server!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-9076061420471962587?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/9076061420471962587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/5-more-shifts.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/9076061420471962587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/9076061420471962587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/5-more-shifts.html' title='5 more shifts....'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-6251352649871336604</id><published>2010-03-16T07:27:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-16T07:32:49.897-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Graduate</title><content type='html'>Well I did it! And I didn't fall across the stage and make a big fool of myself either! It was a very nice ceremony except that the keynote speaker, Mr. Nate Harper Pittsburgh police chief was of course 20 minutes late! Other than that everything went very smoothly and I didn't cry like a baby. My eyes started tearing up as we all marched into the auditorium while the Pomp and Circumstance music was playing. I could see my family all sitting there and I had to turn away so I wouldn't start balling!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was very nice to see my many wonderful teachers and get a chance to thank them for their endless dedication to me and my fellow students. Without them I wouldn't have the knowledge and skills that I possess. It all kinda happened so fast; I'm only now sitting back and rehashing it. I have one of the biggest smiles I've ever had. This is the best feeling; it beats any nod from any bag of heroin ever!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next chapter of my life has begun. My father wrote me a very touching letter that says to not limit myself as this is my start, not my finish. How true. I am just beginning and it feels awesome!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-6251352649871336604?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/6251352649871336604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/graduate.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6251352649871336604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6251352649871336604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/graduate.html' title='Graduate'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-4855767533189603883</id><published>2010-03-15T09:37:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T09:45:36.986-04:00</updated><title type='text'>POMP AND CIRCUMSTANCE</title><content type='html'>Today is my big day! I could hardly sleep last night. I am like a little kid in a candy store today, I'm full of nervous energy! I just can't wait to put that cap and gown on and walk across the stage! I have to wait some 8 hours and it's killing me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am an emotional mess today but in a good way. I've already begun tearing up so I cannot imagine what I'll be like when the damn song starts playing. I am just so happy and proud of myself. Not many addicts can get clean let alone finish school and get a great job. I can't hardly believe that it is happening but it is. My new life is starting and I'm all ready for it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night two of my dearest friends took me out to dinner since they won't be able to attend the ceremony tonite. We had such a great time, we always do. I love them like sisters and know without great friends I couldn't have done any of this. They gave me a necklace with a key on it and said that it represents the key to my new apartment, new job, and new life. I am touched and saddened that I won't be working alongside these 2 wonderful women anymore. That's gonna be the most difficult part about leaving the restaurant business behind; the awesome people who I got to share so much with. We are a different breed of people; you kinda have to be to survive that lifestyle. Unless you've experienced it for yourself you can't really understand what is all about. I will miss it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is time to move on though, that was what I worked so damn hard for. I look forward to the new challenges that life has in store for me. And it's comforting to know that I can blog about all my misadventures! Hope you guys stick around for what is sure to be a bumpy road!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-4855767533189603883?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/4855767533189603883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/pomp-and-circumstance.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4855767533189603883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4855767533189603883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/pomp-and-circumstance.html' title='POMP AND CIRCUMSTANCE'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-4486394742322975201</id><published>2010-03-14T09:46:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T10:00:38.188-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Patience is a virtue</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S5zr-p3ulwI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/uZyqqgWVdm0/s1600-h/got-patience.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448489110835468034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S5zr-p3ulwI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/uZyqqgWVdm0/s400/got-patience.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know I thought that because I will be leaving this waitressing thing behind me in less than 2 weeks, that my patience level would somehow grow. I was wrong. Let's explore yet again how truly fucked up people can be...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last night we had a reservation for a party of 30 people who were celebrating a surprise 21st birthday. Me and another server, whom I will call S, had to share this party which took up both of our sections. No big deal, we do this kinda thing all the time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was a little shocked that because it was a 21st birthday, the woman in charge would not allow anyone to drink any alcohol. Ok whatever, it was a "family" dinner. The parents of the birthday girl had pre-ordered the venue, giving the guests a choice of 3 chicken dinners. Um, what happened to a little variety? Not everybody wants chicken, how bout a seafood selection or beef? Whatever I just do what I am told. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't want to bore you with all the little details of these very demanding customers, so I'll cut to the chase. After the 3 hours that they were there, everyone was oohing and awwing over the food and the service. Big warning sign; that is what we in the business call "the kiss of death". I should have known then that I was going to need some lubricant cause we sure were gonna get fucked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The check came to $550. Now keep in mind that the 2 servers working this party are spliting the tip. Not only that but we also didn't have ANY other tables besides this one. I collect the charge slip and casually look down....$80. WTF! We just busted our asses for 3 hours and we get to split 80 bucks...$40 a piece. Oh for Christ's sake people. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The silver lining in this whole fucked up situation is that in 2 more weeks I will never ever have to be slighted on a tip!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-4486394742322975201?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/4486394742322975201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/patience-is-virtue.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4486394742322975201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4486394742322975201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/patience-is-virtue.html' title='Patience is a virtue'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S5zr-p3ulwI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/uZyqqgWVdm0/s72-c/got-patience.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-1229470572375433076</id><published>2010-03-13T09:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T09:47:55.922-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And the Countdown Begins....</title><content type='html'>Wow! What an awesome feeling it is to wake up this morning and know that in just 2 short weeks I will be done waitressing forever. Well never say never but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was talking with my aunt this morning and we were discussing how fortunate I am to have been given the job that I really wanted. I know there are plenty of people out there with degrees who are stuck in jobs that they really don't want simply bc they can't find something in their fields. I am blessed to have been given this opportunity; the thought is not lost on me. I am not a very religious person but I did pray over and over again to get this job. Now that I have it, I have repeated thanked HIM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I worked very hard for what I've accomplished but I have not done it alone. There is something else out there working in my favor. I won't name it because honestly I am not entirely sure what it is, but I must acknowledge that there is something bigger than me out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok enough of the religious stuff. I am so freakin happy I could bust! This weekend is exciting as hell for me. Today is the St Patricks day parade in Pittsburgh and that's a HUGE deal in this city. Of course its raining but the show will definately go on. Pittsburgh hosts one of the biggest st. Patty's day parade in the country. Just think next year I'll have weekends off and actually be able to attend the festivities!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday I get to walk across that stage and be given my degree! I get to show my family and friends how hard I've worked. I am gonna cry like a baby but that's ok. It will be a happy cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thanks everyone for the wishes and prayers; they worked!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-1229470572375433076?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/1229470572375433076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/and-countdown-begins.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1229470572375433076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1229470572375433076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/and-countdown-begins.html' title='And the Countdown Begins....'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-7399945876349751794</id><published>2010-03-11T14:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T14:14:13.470-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>OMG, I GOT THE JOB!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is what it feels like to work hard for something, pray about, climb the walls waiting to hear about it, and then GET it! I cannot contain my happiness right now; you have no idea how wonderful it feels to know that in 2 weeks I can hang up my apron strings forever and ever!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-7399945876349751794?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/7399945876349751794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/omg-i-got-job-so-this-is-what-it-feels.html#comment-form' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/7399945876349751794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/7399945876349751794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/omg-i-got-job-so-this-is-what-it-feels.html' title=''/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-4195679014336765129</id><published>2010-03-10T18:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T18:21:51.048-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ok. So I called the woman whom I interviewed with today to "check on the status of my application". She called me right back and said that things were looking very good for me. I asked her about my criminal history and she said "I would be surprised if they didn't hire you based on that". Well there it is. Now can these people just call with the job offer so I can tell my boss to stick his linguine up his ass?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so ready to be done with my externship. Honestly I appreciate all that they have shown me but I'm pretty much bored out of my mind now! I am only allowed to do so much. I do all the things that I know how to do and when I look up at the clock it's only like 10! WTF! I spend the rest of the time thinking about all the things I could be getting done if I were at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention that along with working my waitressing job, externing with the Doctor, I am also in the process of moving. Well it's only to the front apartment but still I gotta pack all that shit up! Seriously when this is all over with I am gonna need a day of pampering. I could really use a mani/pedi and a fucking nap!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for standing by me and understanding when I don't reach out to your blogs, I'll get back to yinz soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-4195679014336765129?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/4195679014336765129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/ok.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4195679014336765129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4195679014336765129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/ok.html' title=''/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-7212825702807848237</id><published>2010-03-09T07:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T07:40:12.534-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cant this wait just be over already?</title><content type='html'>Man I hate this waiting game! I just want to know if they're going to hire me or not! I'm trying to be patient but it's so hard. Last night at work all I could think of was that it could all be over within the next 2 weeks! That my friends is what I live for: the fact that I never have to wait on another table for as long as I live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as I hear something, you'll hear it too! I want to thank yinz for being so supportive and for understanding my erratic posting as of late. Things will get back to normal within the next month or so, I promise! Keep them body parts crossed for me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-7212825702807848237?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/7212825702807848237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/cant-this-wait-just-be-over-already.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/7212825702807848237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/7212825702807848237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/cant-this-wait-just-be-over-already.html' title='Cant this wait just be over already?'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-4967300103663064469</id><published>2010-03-06T22:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-06T22:28:16.485-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This is how I feel...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S5MbJuh4GdI/AAAAAAAAAQI/NUBDJiuEdAc/s1600-h/deadcornflake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445726228343953874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 261px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S5MbJuh4GdI/AAAAAAAAAQI/NUBDJiuEdAc/s400/deadcornflake.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is what I feel like.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thank God I only have 2 more weeks left to go on my externship! It is seriously taking a toll on my physical and mental well-being. I am so ready just to be done with it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It doesn't help that this weekend was like a clusterfuck, chaotic mess at the restaurant! Holy shit, I ran my ass off and I am beat. It wasn't a good kinda busy. I hate when it's like this. Don't get me wrong I'd rather be busy and make money than stand around looking pretty, but when it's crazy insane like it has been, I'm not doing my job. I am not giving good service to people, I am literally throwing food at them and walking away. They're lucky if I make it back in time to refill their drinks. I don't like waiting on people like that. As much as I hate waitressing, I am good at it and I take pride in doing it well.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Of course at the end of the night when I count my money it's all worth it, but I can't get rid of the sinking feeling that customers went away unsatisfied. I don't like that.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But on the bright side...I'm waiting to hear from the insurance company that I interviewed with. Everything seems to be going well. The last step was filling out the online application. Now I play the waiting game. I hate waiting. It's driving me crazy not knowing if they're gonna hire me or not. I just want to know. I hope they offer me a position. If they do, my waitressing days are OVER! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Keep your fingers and toes crossed for me my wonderful "tiny heads", this girl needs all the help she can get!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hope everyone is enjoying life. No more snow over here in PA, thats a good thing. In fact I think it's going up into the high 40's this week! I cant' wait.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Well I am pooped and I need to crawl my ass into bed and get some sleep!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-4967300103663064469?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/4967300103663064469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/this-is-how-i-feel.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4967300103663064469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4967300103663064469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/03/this-is-how-i-feel.html' title='This is how I feel...'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S5MbJuh4GdI/AAAAAAAAAQI/NUBDJiuEdAc/s72-c/deadcornflake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-8414442383006421658</id><published>2010-02-28T09:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T09:56:35.245-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've been a busy little bee! I had a phone interview with an insurance company on Friday. I don't understand the whole phone interviewing thing. I mean I guess that's how they start to weed people out, but it just seems so impersonal to me. And what is up with the Human Resources questions? Who the hell comes up with these stupid questions and what on earth do they have to do with getting a job? I learned in school that they ask you these questions to try and catch you off gaurd and they're basically looking to see how you react.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that I did really bad. I was unsure about how to answer her questions. The only answers that I could come up with involved my experience in the restaurant business, bc that's all the experience I've ever had. She told me that she appreciated my time and that she'd be handing her notes over to her boss, and they'd get in touch with me in a few days if I was being moved on to the next step. After I hung up I kinda shrugged my shoulders and figured I'd never hear from "Katie" again. I chalked it up to experience and laughed about it with the girls at the office. I went on with my day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my utter surprise, when I got home from work that night there was actually a message from Katie on my machine. She said that she reviewed her notes with her boss and she'd like for me to come in for a face-to-face interview. Holy freaking shit! I swear I did a little happy dance right there in my living room. My poor cat probably thought I was having a seizure!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are starting to really move forward. I also have another interview scheduled this week with a billing company. I can't believe that this could actually happen for me. I am so excited but scared at the same time. I guess it's a healthy fear. I definately am not gonna let it freeze me, there's just no way that I will allow myself to chicken out. I refuse to wait on tables for the rest of my life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So fellow bloggers, I'd like to thank you all for your wonderful comments and support. It makes me feel good knowing there are people out there who are rooting for me! It seems kinda weird that I've never even met you, but somehow I "know" each and every one of you! I hope all is going well for you too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm probably gonna be a bad poster for the next 6 weeks or so, but I promise to keep you guys up-to-date with any disgruntled customers I happen to come across. I always have time to write about the assholes I deal with on a day to day basis! Till then enjoy yourselves!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lotsalove,&lt;br /&gt;burnie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-8414442383006421658?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/8414442383006421658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/ive-been-busy-little-bee-i-had-phone.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8414442383006421658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8414442383006421658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/ive-been-busy-little-bee-i-had-phone.html' title=''/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-8527275699419799496</id><published>2010-02-24T19:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T19:15:32.462-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Holy crap it's been a LONG time since I posted something new! Sorry about that folks but I've been a busy little thing! Now I feel a little bit quilty for posting a question but I'm hoping you'll understand. If I live on the East Coast and it's 2:00 pm what time is that in Central Time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to know this because an Insurance company is going to call me for a phone interview and he said it is based on central time. I should've asked but I didn't want to look like a fucking idiot, so i'll look like a dummy with you guys, you're not looking to hire me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, hope everyone is doing well and i'll get with yinz as soon as I can, I promise!&lt;br /&gt;burnie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-8527275699419799496?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/8527275699419799496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/holy-crap-its-been-long-time-since-i.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8527275699419799496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8527275699419799496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/holy-crap-its-been-long-time-since-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-859423794192985475</id><published>2010-02-14T10:36:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-14T10:56:38.553-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How Do I Come Up with a Catchy Title?</title><content type='html'>When I first thought about creating a blog I was unsure of what I wanted to say. I knew that I wanted an outlet for all the crazy goings on at my waitressing job; I wanted a place to share these stories and hopefully make somebody laugh. I never really thought anybody would find my blog let alone follow it, or for that matter comment and enjoy it. But it seems that is what has happened. I know that in the blogging world I am quite new and I don't have as many followers as most. I'm ok with that. I never in a million years thought I'd have any followers; now I have 50!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like that number. It's even and divisible by 5. It seems like a good number to round off to; it is half of 100 and there even is a bill of money in it's honor. 50. I like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know where this post is really going to or what the hell it is I'm trying to say. I just felt some kind of way when I logged on this morning and saw that I had acquired some new tiny heads in the collection. I feel proud. I also feel like what the hell do these people see in this little blog of mine? I sometimes feel insubstantial to the other bloggers that I follow. It seems that they write about all sorts of things. I love each of the ones I follow for different reasons. Some of them are funny and some are poignant and brutally honest. I don't feel like I can even come close to their wityness or excellent writing. I just want to belong though and I guess I'm starting to feel that way. Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's weird; my brain that is. The thoughts surrounding this post are jumbled and racing and I don't know in which direction I should go. But that's pretty much what my life is feeling like now too. I feel like I'm being pulled in so many different directions. I don't feel grounded and I don't like feeling not grounded. It can be a pretty scary and rocky place for an addict.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I try and explain this place I'm in? Ok, try to imagine what it would feel like to be one of those mandarin oranges that are stuck in jello. They're just there; they're kinda just suspended in air but not really because they're surrounded by a sticky, gelatinous substance. If that makes any sense to you, that's kinda what I feel like right now. I am a semi-suspended mandarin orange in a sea of lime-green jello. By the way I hate fruit in my jello.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-859423794192985475?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/859423794192985475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/how-do-i-come-up-with-catchy-title.html#comment-form' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/859423794192985475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/859423794192985475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/how-do-i-come-up-with-catchy-title.html' title='How Do I Come Up with a Catchy Title?'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-8797695069585044270</id><published>2010-02-14T00:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-14T00:12:25.463-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Laughed til I peed!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S3eF-HJbJXI/AAAAAAAAAP8/fWtVv0fqaXs/s1600-h/fuckyouwinter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437962377190122866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S3eF-HJbJXI/AAAAAAAAAP8/fWtVv0fqaXs/s400/fuckyouwinter.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;enough said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-8797695069585044270?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/8797695069585044270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/laughed-til-i-peed.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8797695069585044270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8797695069585044270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/laughed-til-i-peed.html' title='Laughed til I peed!'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S3eF-HJbJXI/AAAAAAAAAP8/fWtVv0fqaXs/s72-c/fuckyouwinter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-6045816193569646608</id><published>2010-02-13T23:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T23:50:45.249-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A DAY LATE AND A DOLLAR SHORT...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S3d9nfeqFKI/AAAAAAAAAPs/4h-nqMdOZ_s/s1600-h/SFTCButtonTOPBLOG.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437953192491619490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S3d9nfeqFKI/AAAAAAAAAPs/4h-nqMdOZ_s/s400/SFTCButtonTOPBLOG.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Ok my apologies for not posting this yesterday (Friday) like I was supposed to! I was featured as "Blog of the week" over at SPEAKING FROM THE CRIB &lt;a href="http://www.speakingfromthecrib.com/"&gt;(SFTC) &lt;/a&gt; and I was honored to be chosen, truly I was. So go on over there and check out the post and give that girl some love cause she is funny and quirky and AWESOME! I'm not just saying that either, she is one of my soups of the day and I always look forward to reading something new from her. I've noticed that I have many new tiny heads in the collection, I'd like to say hello to all you newbies out there. Thanks for stopping over and I hope that you decide to stay. Things here are really informal and sometimes things can be a little racy and full of swearing and cussing but then on somedays I actually allow myself to open up and you get to see the "real" burnedoutw8ress. So stick around folks and I'll do my best to keep you informed about all the asshole customers that cross my path.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-6045816193569646608?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/6045816193569646608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/day-late-and-dollar-short.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6045816193569646608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6045816193569646608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/day-late-and-dollar-short.html' title='A DAY LATE AND A DOLLAR SHORT...'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S3d9nfeqFKI/AAAAAAAAAPs/4h-nqMdOZ_s/s72-c/SFTCButtonTOPBLOG.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-2228703624063171643</id><published>2010-02-10T15:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T15:35:29.549-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't take anymore</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S3MX2xWfVmI/AAAAAAAAAPk/w_XyIyfMkLE/s1600-h/snowstorm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436715404894361186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S3MX2xWfVmI/AAAAAAAAAPk/w_XyIyfMkLE/s320/snowstorm.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;FUCK YOU SNOW!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am so sick of looking at, walking through, and shoveling snow! When is it gonna end already? Are we being punished for the last several "mild" winters? Ok. We. Get. It. I'm not much of a winter gal if you couldn't tell. I get cold easily and I am not the best driver when it comes to this slushy crap all over the roads. I hate it, I hate it I hate it!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And you know what, while I'm at it..FUCK you VALENTINE'S DAY too!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-2228703624063171643?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/2228703624063171643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-cant-take-anymore.html#comment-form' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/2228703624063171643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/2228703624063171643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-cant-take-anymore.html' title='I can&apos;t take anymore'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S3MX2xWfVmI/AAAAAAAAAPk/w_XyIyfMkLE/s72-c/snowstorm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-5209545414232602489</id><published>2010-02-09T10:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T10:34:52.528-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Need Some Blogger Help</title><content type='html'>People never cease to amaze me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I live here in pittsburgh where we got like almost 2 feet of snow this weekend. So on sunday I bundled myself up and went out there to try and shovel my car out of it's winter coccoon. I am quite the girly girl and that snow was wet and heavy as hell. I was really struggling with the shovel. I was frustrated and very close to tears when one of the guys who lives in the apartment above me came to what I thought was going to be my rescue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He could tell that I was having a really hard time. He said that he would do it for me to help me out. I was relieved. At first. I'm no cheapo and I knew this was hard work so I handed my "neighbor" $40 for his troubles. I went back into the house and crawled under the blankets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About half an hour later he comes knocking on my door. He said that he had gotten half of it done. I was all like, "oh ok would you like a cup of coffee to warm up and take a little break?". He, in a straight face, says to me that if I want the other half done it was gonna cost me another $20. Are you fucking shitting me? I was floored and for once in my life speechless. I didn't know what to say. What was I going to do? I knew there was no way I was gonna be able to do it so I just agreed and shut the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as I'm sitting there talking to myself about what a jerk this guy is, I had a thought. Maybe he didn't look at the money I handed him and thought it was only 1 $20. Yea that must be it, nobody in their right mind would really expect $60 to shovel out a car. I felt better. Then he knocked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I opened the door and he said he had finished the job. I said to him, "did you realise that I had given you 2 $20's?" to which he replied yes I know but there was a lot of snow. Unfreakin believable! I had to give this guy $60 to shovel out my car! I couldn't not pay him. He is my neighbor after all and I didn't want to piss him off. What if he's some kind of freak and he started to leave dead animals on my porch or something?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was really taken back by this but maybe I am just over reacting? I don't know? What do you guys think? Was I just being cheap?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-5209545414232602489?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/5209545414232602489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-need-some-blogger-help.html#comment-form' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5209545414232602489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5209545414232602489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-need-some-blogger-help.html' title='I Need Some Blogger Help'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-5334114676589000265</id><published>2010-02-09T09:36:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T09:43:48.936-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Awards are SWEET</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S3FzJmGmTvI/AAAAAAAAAPU/wacbRr6T8NI/s1600-h/Sugar_dollaward.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436252833897139954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 157px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S3FzJmGmTvI/AAAAAAAAAPU/wacbRr6T8NI/s320/Sugar_dollaward.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I've been given this cute award, I love pink, from Katey Leigh over at &lt;a href="http://www.kateyleigh.blogspot.com/"&gt;let.it.be.&lt;/a&gt; I just stumbled upon her one day and I've been following her ever since. I envy the fact that she lives in San Francisco, I love that city! I tried living there when I was 19 but it didn't work for me at that time but maybe someday I'll go back. Anyway like most awards there are rules that go along with them but I'm not feeling well and my head is pounding and my nose is all stuffy and I MUST must must get back into bed so I'm skipping out on the rule thing today. Please don't let my bad blogging etiquette stop others from handing me pretty awards! I promise I'll be a better blogger someday! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thanks Kateyleigh, love your blog!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-5334114676589000265?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/5334114676589000265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/awards-are-sweet.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5334114676589000265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5334114676589000265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/awards-are-sweet.html' title='Awards are SWEET'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S3FzJmGmTvI/AAAAAAAAAPU/wacbRr6T8NI/s72-c/Sugar_dollaward.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-7795395546852359346</id><published>2010-02-06T09:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-06T10:06:33.806-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Snowball Fight?</title><content type='html'>If anyone lives in the Eastern part of our country I guess you're in the same boat as I am today. Holy crap the snow. Snow. Snow. Snow. And MORE snow. The stuff is pretty and white and bright and all but seriously I don't want anymore of it. I nearly killed myself getting home last night. I'm no weenie but when there's close to a foot of that shit it makes travel pretty gruesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work in a restaurant as many of you already know. I say this because a restaurant is not where you should be in the midst of a blizzard. It was snowing buckets and yet the yuppies from the neighborhood were piling into their 4-wheel-drive Escalades, and Navigators to come in and order a bowl of freakin soup! Really. I just wanted to try and make my way home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't understand. If the news people and the people at Penndot were telling you to stay off the roads and only go out if absolutely necessary, why why why are you here in my booth ordering a stinking pizza?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now that it is Saturday morning and I'm comfy and warm INSIDE of my home and don't have to leave, I can appreciate the beauty of the snow but that's only because I don't have to venture out into it. Hoping everyone is safe and warm and please people DO NOT BE OBNOXIOUS AND TRY TO GO OUT TO EAT TODAY! Waitresses are not eskimos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-7795395546852359346?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/7795395546852359346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/snowball-fight.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/7795395546852359346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/7795395546852359346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/snowball-fight.html' title='Snowball Fight?'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-7644852692571335242</id><published>2010-02-05T05:38:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T05:48:02.119-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Friday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S2v3U6wMcbI/AAAAAAAAAPM/I6x7e8neFso/s1600-h/cap-and-gown.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434709314093478322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 263px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 252px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S2v3U6wMcbI/AAAAAAAAAPM/I6x7e8neFso/s320/cap-and-gown.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have been a bad blogger! I'm so busy with the externship and working that I barely have time to shower let alone check and write new posts. Sorry about that fellow bloggers. Anyways I have some exciting news.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My school only holds 2 graduation ceremonies a year, one in spring and fall. The spring one is scheduled for March 15, but technically I won't finish my extern hours until the beginning of April, so I wasn't included on the list. After several unanswered phone calls, emails, and faxes I finally got in touch with the program director and she agreed to let me walk early. So all that hard work, the good grades and all that payed off for me. They are gonna let me graduate early. I won't receive my degree that night, the book will be empty but thats okay by me. I get the chance to walk across that stage and show my family and friends what I've accomplished! I've come along way and I am so proud of myself for sticking it out and earning a college degree.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Had anyone asked me 5 years ago if I thought I'd be able to call myself a college graduate, I would have laughed at them, and then asked them for $20 to cop dope. Things have changed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On another good note, last night at work I was waiting on this little old guy who is a recent widower. He had been to his wife's grave and was cold, and hurting. I didn't do anything special, just talked with him and gave him a hot cup of coffee but he did something really nice for me. When I went over to clean his table I scooped up the tip and in the midst of the one dollar bills was a crisp, new $100 bill! I don't know if this was a mistake on his part but he was already gone and I had no way to ask him. I slid it in my apron pocket and went on with my shift. Thank you for making my night sir, you have no idea what it meant to me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-7644852692571335242?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/7644852692571335242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/good-friday.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/7644852692571335242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/7644852692571335242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/02/good-friday.html' title='Good Friday'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S2v3U6wMcbI/AAAAAAAAAPM/I6x7e8neFso/s72-c/cap-and-gown.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-5463968627972257491</id><published>2010-01-30T12:28:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T12:39:18.161-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ONE FOOT IN THE GRAVE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S2RuNdZNkKI/AAAAAAAAAPE/TIqtbMDHhRY/s1600-h/diggingmygrave.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432588228023390370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 307px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S2RuNdZNkKI/AAAAAAAAAPE/TIqtbMDHhRY/s320/diggingmygrave.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I survived my first week at my externship. No patients were harmed in the process, so I guess I must be doing something right! In all seriousness though I have learned quite a bit in this short period of time, and I'm starting to feel more comfortable with what I am doing and the other people who work there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The other night at work I decided that I needed to have a "fire-side" chat with my boss. When I walk by some of the girls I'm working with at the restaurant they suddenly stop talking and start looking around with this guilty expression on their faces. They are talking about me and divying up my shifts between them. Um hello, I'm still working here! Anyways I wanted to make that clear to my employers so they don't overhear this shit and start to think I'm going to screw them over.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I go up to the office and we talk. Everything goes well and he tells me he knew I still had a ways to go before I leave and blah blah blah. Then he sort of chuckles and says to me that he did get a note from one of the servers that said that they would like to take my Saturday shift. Holy shit! I'm not even dead yet and these girls are throwing the dirt on top of me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ruthless bitches.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-5463968627972257491?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/5463968627972257491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/one-foot-in-grave.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5463968627972257491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5463968627972257491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/one-foot-in-grave.html' title='ONE FOOT IN THE GRAVE'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S2RuNdZNkKI/AAAAAAAAAPE/TIqtbMDHhRY/s72-c/diggingmygrave.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-1129952647859244444</id><published>2010-01-29T07:20:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-29T07:20:45.759-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So. Tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-1129952647859244444?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/1129952647859244444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/so.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1129952647859244444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1129952647859244444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/so.html' title=''/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-80506806576120905</id><published>2010-01-27T07:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T07:15:54.227-05:00</updated><title type='text'>huh?</title><content type='html'>I started my externship on Monday. I know that I am being hard on myself when I say this but I feel really stupid. I have no idea what I am supposed to be doing. They had me sit and listen to the other girls answer the phones on the first day and then yesterday I was allowed to scan some things into the computer but other than that I dont really know what I am supposed to do. If this was a restaurant I'd be all over it! It will take me some time to get my footing but until then I dont want to come across as lazy or have no initiative but seriously I just sit there looking like an idiot. I hate it, I want to already know this job like I know my job. Patience was never one of my strong suits!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-80506806576120905?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/80506806576120905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/huh.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/80506806576120905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/80506806576120905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/huh.html' title='huh?'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-8780345602619075705</id><published>2010-01-24T11:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-24T11:25:44.649-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ding Ding Ding</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S1x0bhMeXnI/AAAAAAAAAO8/e9KQISTH_WA/s1600-h/boxers.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430343266817957490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S1x0bhMeXnI/AAAAAAAAAO8/e9KQISTH_WA/s320/boxers.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And in this corner we have the feather-weight champ burnedoutw8ress!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just a little comedic entry into what this post will be about. So it was Friday night at work when I was almost forced to "put up my dukes". I should probably mention I'm not that much of a figher. I've actually only been involved in 2 fistfights my entire life, oh and I lost both of them. I'm more of a lover than a fighter, to put it simply: I am a weinee who's mouth can't be backed up by my fists.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We all know that Friday was my last day of school. Well my fellow employees know this as well. Of course they're excited for me. My bosses even know too. That being said, I am not currently looking for employment. I still have to complete my externship to qualify for my degree. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I was wiping down the tables Friday night I overheard a conversation between 2 of the servers. We'll call them A and B. Server A was telling server B that "when the new girls starts she can have some of my shifts". I knew where this was going, so I said to server A, "what new girl"? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;server A: well you'll be leaving soon and they'll have to hire someone to take over your shifts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;me: Um I haven't even started looking for a job and I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about that kinda stuff because if they(the bosses) overhear it all kind of shit is gonna get started. that's how rumors start and I don't want to be called into the office for shit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Server A starts to flip out! She's swearing and saying she's 40 years old and she'll say anything she wants, and blah blah blah. That's when she says to me, sweet and innocent burnedoutw8ress, "go fuck yourself"!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well what the hell is this all about I ask myself. I've never seen this server get like this before. I don't think I came across rude or anything. I'm just trying to protect my own ass from a whipping. My bosses are immature like that. If they get the tiniest inkling that I am somehow going to screw them over they will react in some pretty disturbing ways. My shifts will slowly disappear, my section will become smaller, my shifts will be longer, etc. What is it with women?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After talking to a friend of mine who also works with us I think I may understand what's going on with server A. Not to boast on myself or anything like that but I think she may be a bit jealous. Jealous of the fact that there's a light at the end of my tunnel. Jealous that I will someday be getting out of this god forsaken job. Jealous that she infact will not. It seems silly to me but I guess it could be true.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't want to step on people's toes or hurt feelings. All I'm trying to do is better myself and get the hell out of the restaurant business before I end up killing someone. I absolutely hate conflicts and I hope by Monday server A has calmed down and we can work this out. We've always gotten along before and I don't want to have to walk around on egg shells. Isn't our job bad enough without having to fight amongst ourselves?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just in case all doesn't go well does anyone have any boxing advice for me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-8780345602619075705?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/8780345602619075705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/ding-ding-ding.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8780345602619075705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8780345602619075705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/ding-ding-ding.html' title='Ding Ding Ding'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S1x0bhMeXnI/AAAAAAAAAO8/e9KQISTH_WA/s72-c/boxers.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-5193968062693462185</id><published>2010-01-22T09:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-22T09:29:38.951-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yet Another Waitress Rant</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S1m2Md18ICI/AAAAAAAAAO0/D6pO1QKlcIs/s1600-h/old_lady-12780.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429571151057395746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S1m2Md18ICI/AAAAAAAAAO0/D6pO1QKlcIs/s320/old_lady-12780.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously people how many times must I post about stupid customer questions before they stop asking me them?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I have these 2 old bitties in my section last night; I knew I was gonna be in for some trouble when I took a gander at this lady. She had on plastic zebra striped rainboots, a green poncho thing, and a wig that nobody should ever wear no matter what the circumstance ( Halloween couldn't even pull that one off). Ok.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;weirdlady: &lt;em&gt;what are the soups?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;me: &lt;em&gt;we have wedding and chicken noodle&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;weirdlady: &lt;em&gt;do you put sugar in the wedding soup?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;me: (&lt;em&gt;thinking to myself, who the fuck puts sugar in wedding soup?) No ma'am there is no sugar in the soup.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;weirdlady: &lt;em&gt;are you sure, could you just check with the chef for me?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;me: &lt;em&gt;(augh) yes I'll double check for you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After fuckin around in the kitchen for a few minutes while I'm "double checking with the chef" I come back to the table to reassure her about the soup. She orders it. Then she asks me "is there any cheese in the meatballs?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh for the love of God! Listen up people if you have that many food allergies, pet peeves, or just random annoying problems with what you eat, please please please just stay the fuck home!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-5193968062693462185?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/5193968062693462185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/yet-another-waitress-rant.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5193968062693462185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5193968062693462185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/yet-another-waitress-rant.html' title='Yet Another Waitress Rant'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S1m2Md18ICI/AAAAAAAAAO0/D6pO1QKlcIs/s72-c/old_lady-12780.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-1128978034756923178</id><published>2010-01-20T00:17:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-20T00:48:17.543-05:00</updated><title type='text'>insomnia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S1aXxwvKOII/AAAAAAAAAOs/6kihJiSFYgc/s1600-h/insomnia1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428693281993799810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 293px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S1aXxwvKOII/AAAAAAAAAOs/6kihJiSFYgc/s320/insomnia1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok. I. Can't. Sleep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I only have 3 days of school left. I start my very first externship on Monday. I've never in my life worked in an office or for a doctor. Am I nervous? You betch-your-ass I am!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's all coming down to the wire and I am really starting to freak out. I wanted this right? I mean isn't this what all that hard work and no sleep was for? Why am I suddenly so afraid to take this step? Do I possess the skills? Have I had enough training? Am I good enough? Or am I destined for a life of scraping by and waiting tables til I die?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;No, of course not. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am scared to death, but so excited at the same time! I really want to do well and impress this doctor and the office manager. I'd like to be able to learn some basic office skills and move on with my life. I feel a little bit like Mary Tyler Moore; you know when she makes it to the big city and flings her hat up into the Manhattan air! I want to do that but I will refrain.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Instead I think I'll do something dramatic to my hair. Something funky and fresh, something new and exciting to go with the mood of my changing life. It's a new start for me and I'd like to start the process off with a sense of confidence and what better way to do that than to get a whole new look? I think I have the cut in mind. It is a lot shorter than my hair has ever been, but that's okay. There's a lot of things different about me these days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What this whole babbling post is about is fear of change and fear of falling back into old behaviors. That's my m.o. Just when things start to go good and things fall into place, I sabotage them. This is the time that I need to be extra vigilant about my recovery. It is just so easy to hide my fears in that needle. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I was laying in bed, tossing and turning, a thought occurred to me about all those using dreams I've had lately. No wonder. My life is showing signs of success and what better way to demolish it but by doing the most "natural" thing in the world to a junkie like me. You see that's what we do, we drug addicts. We hide. We run. We don't face scary things; even if they are good things. It's change that we hate so much. Anything new is terribly frightening. And then the big question is "what if I actually am good at this new career, then what? Will my life actually change and will I have to really stay clean for the rest of my life? That's what its boiling down to for me anyway. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A whole life without my love of obliteration. When I started school I said to myself, "just get through with the next year and a half, stay on track at the methadone clinic, and then we'll see". Maybe it was wrong and I'm sure if N.A. was still a part of my life I'd have a sponsor beating down my door right now. But it is what it is and now it almost feels like I'm betraying myself. Like I promised myself that once it was all said and done we could get back down to business. We could just slam one more time, one more time, one more time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The funny thing is: I don't really want to use. I for once want to walk through this fear just to see what's on the other side of the fence for me. I can do this. And I. Will. Do. This.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-1128978034756923178?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/1128978034756923178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/insomnia.html#comment-form' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1128978034756923178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1128978034756923178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/insomnia.html' title='insomnia'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S1aXxwvKOII/AAAAAAAAAOs/6kihJiSFYgc/s72-c/insomnia1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-9198988680618436240</id><published>2010-01-17T12:02:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T12:07:55.305-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Humbled</title><content type='html'>I don't know how I feel about today. I started my morning like I usually do, coffe a cigarette and the morning news. I putsed around and cleaned the apartment. I smoked. I drank too much coffee. I logged on to my blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read &lt;a href="http://littlemaniac.blogspot.com/"&gt;Lora's &lt;/a&gt;post from yesterday and I was overwhelmed to the point where I can't speak. That's because I am so touched, hurt, sad, angry that any word I try to use will not do what I am feeling any justice. There aren't words to describe these thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just when I start to feel bad for myself, I come across a story of someone who is really suffering and I am brought back to reality. No my life isn't a bowl of cherries but I have it pretty good compared to other's. I am thankful. I am blessed. I am humbled.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-9198988680618436240?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/9198988680618436240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/humbled.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/9198988680618436240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/9198988680618436240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/humbled.html' title='Humbled'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-545036873925382555</id><published>2010-01-15T07:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T07:21:41.949-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>After today's finals I will only have 4 days of classes left in that building they call an institute of learning. I thought I'd get all sentimental and crap, like senior year of high school, but that is so not the case. I can't wait to never have to walk in those doors again! I don't mean to sound ungrateful for education or anything but that school is a joke. Out of all the classes I've taken over the past 15 months I can honestly say only 2 of them challenged me. This is not because I am some genius or anything, seriously blind monkeys could pass these classes! That's not to say I am a retard either, I think my intelligence is somewhere on the average scale but I never really got the chance to test it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am getting really excited to start my externship in 2 weeks. Hopefully I'll be able to put some of the "skills" I learned to good use and make a lasting impression on this doctor and his staff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wishing everybody a great weekend and I'd like to thank table 16 from last night for leaving me that 9% tip, that made it so worth my while to wait on your asses!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-545036873925382555?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/545036873925382555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/after-todays-finals-i-will-only-have-4.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/545036873925382555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/545036873925382555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/after-todays-finals-i-will-only-have-4.html' title=''/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-6398641774798232499</id><published>2010-01-13T06:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T07:12:21.685-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't wait to be done with school</title><content type='html'>Oops I really fucked up this time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a letter from the school I attend which reads:&lt;br /&gt;Dear Ms. Burnedoutw8ress(&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;you didn't think I'd give you my real name did you?)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;This letter is to inform you that you have exceeded the 20% limit for abscenses for the following classes: Oral communications and keyboarding IV&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(augh, and how important is it that I can type 90 words a minute and communicate orally, ha I know what I'm thinking how bout you&lt;/em&gt;?)&lt;/span&gt;. You are being placed on absense probration for the remainder of the semester&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;( &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;that would be today, 1/13/10-1/15/10)&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/em&gt; We'd like to remind you that if you go above 30%, you will be automatically dropped from the classes &lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;(&lt;em&gt;what the f? Would I really have to pay to take this stupid classes all over again; I'd rather have my toenails ripped out!)&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; If you have any questions please feel free to contact me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;Hunter Hopkins, Director of Education&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Um yea, Mr Hopkins, do you even have a clue as to what is going on in your institute of learning? Do you know that half of your students can't even speak proper English, they have no idea how to balance a checkbook, they don't know that America is a capitalistic country and not communist one. Let's see what else do these "students" not know; well how about common decency, respect for others and for themselves, the list could go on and on. I am not denying the fact that I have unexcused absences, but seriously I am carrying over 100% in each of these classes you say I've missed to much of. I could pass these finals in my sleep! Seriously why don't you contact the idiots that can't figure out how to fill out a job application and leave this 32 year old, 3.98 GPA carrying, smart-ass student alone.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;P.S. Do you think you could write me a letter of recomendation for when I apply to a real college?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Thank you,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Burnedoutw8ress&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-6398641774798232499?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/6398641774798232499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-cant-wait-to-be-done-with-school.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6398641774798232499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6398641774798232499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-cant-wait-to-be-done-with-school.html' title='I can&apos;t wait to be done with school'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-6963759811572277773</id><published>2010-01-10T10:10:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T10:20:35.757-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday to me?</title><content type='html'>Today my mother is having my birthday dinner. It's not a huge deal or anything but it's nice to be together with my family. This is a tradition for us, everybody gets their favorite meal for their birthday, we all get together and have cake and icecream and have a good time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just told that my grandmother doesn't want to come. She says that it's too cold outside. It's not like she has to stand outside and wait for a bus; I was going to pick her up. This is my mom's mother and this isn't the first time she's disappointed me. My birthday was Thursday; she didn't even call to wish me a Happy Birthday. What's up with that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Granted since I've gotten older our relationship has changed. When I was a little kid, I used to stay over for sleepovers. I even had a little red suitcase that said "going to grandma's". She used to call me her favorite little person. I used to hide behind the bush in front of her house and make her find me. She used to read the cereal box to me. She was my grandma and I loved her. Things have changed. She has changed. She is a mean old lady.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before you go gasping here me out. When my pap (her husband of 60 years) was dying she told him she wished he would die. She is the most negative person I have ever come across. She'll talk about her own kids and the neighbors, the milkman, anyone really. She is just mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am 32 years old. I don't need a big extravaganza or lavish presents but it would have been nice to have my grandmother show a little compassion and a little love for her favorite little person.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-6963759811572277773?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/6963759811572277773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/happy-birthday-to-me.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6963759811572277773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6963759811572277773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/happy-birthday-to-me.html' title='Happy Birthday to me?'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-8130308395261647178</id><published>2010-01-09T08:34:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T08:45:34.829-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just another example of how education is amazingly failing...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S0iGBCrZTGI/AAAAAAAAAOk/EZDRwyvIE30/s1600-h/checkbook.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424733103624637538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S0iGBCrZTGI/AAAAAAAAAOk/EZDRwyvIE30/s320/checkbook.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ok does anyone remember back in high school having a class that dealt with commonsense shit that you would actually use in your lifetime? I do. They called it economics when I was in school. We had to pair up with a partner, pretend to get married and then we each had to pull a piece of paper from a hat which gave us our career and salary. We then had to learn how to budget our money together. Figure out how we were going to pay our bills and rent and still be able to eat. The teacher paired me with a boy named Charles and he was an artist, I was a teacher. Together I think we made about $1200 a month, but you know what we did it. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This lifestyle learning class also taught us all about checks, how to write them, endorse them and of course how to balance our checkbooks. Why oh why don't they teach these kinda classes anymore?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;As many of you know I've gone back to school. I've written many posts about the stupidity of our youth, well here's another one. I have a college math class this semester. We just started a new chapter: How to balance your checkbook. Are you fucking kidding me? I've had a checking account for half of my lifetime now. Ok ok so maybe the younger, inexperienced, fresh-out of high school kids don't know how to do this simple feat. I'll give you that. But seriously I don't know how anybody can be this dumb: The teacher wrote a fake endorsement on the board as an example of how she'd transfer a check over to her mother. She wrote "pay to the order of my mom". It was an example. Of course one of the fresh-out-of high school morons raised her hand and asked if you'd really write my mom on the check. She wasn't kidding. She was dead serious. What the fuck are they teaching these kids?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-8130308395261647178?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/8130308395261647178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/just-another-example-of-how-education.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8130308395261647178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8130308395261647178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/just-another-example-of-how-education.html' title='Just another example of how education is amazingly failing...'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S0iGBCrZTGI/AAAAAAAAAOk/EZDRwyvIE30/s72-c/checkbook.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-6199431272757888124</id><published>2010-01-08T11:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T11:55:16.127-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tiresome of Winter Already....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S0dgH6MmmEI/AAAAAAAAAOc/yt2O82t0C-k/s1600-h/snowycar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424409965188520002" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 161px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S0dgH6MmmEI/AAAAAAAAAOc/yt2O82t0C-k/s200/snowycar.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I know that I live in Pennsylvania and that it does indeed snow here in the winter months, but that doesn't mean I have to like it! I rather HATE it to be quite honest with you. The very first snow fall of the year is always pretty and full of the wonder but after that it can go to HELL!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What I hate most about the cold, dreary and dark winter months is having to clean all that white shit off of my car. I had to clean my car off 3 times yesterday, and each time I was silently muttering to myself, "god I hate this". I don't do well in the cold. I am more of an autumn kinda gal. I wish that GM would invent a car that cleans itself. I mean come on, they've come up with self cleaning ovens, what would be so hard about a car that can do the work for you? Maybe someday when I'm rich I can just hire some pimple-faced teenager to do it for me. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Winter is my least favorite of the seasons and I'll be grateful when it is all over. I hate having to bundle up against the whipping wind as it slams into my face, causing my eyes to water and snot to drip from nose. It is just a miserable time of year for me. Even when I was a kid I didn't enjoy the winter like the other kids. I would cry and pitch a fit when my mother would make us go out, "to get the stink off you". We always had to wear those snowsuits that made that awful swish, swish sound every time you took a step, I hated those and the itchy scarfs that my mother would wrap around my face. It always felt like I was suffocating. Then I'd get shoved out the door and told "have a good time, don't come back for atleast an hour". I'd huddle in my snow hut while the other kids frolicked and played the eskimo way just waiting for the hour to be up and the promise of feeling being restored to my frozen toes.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Not much has changed since then; I still hate winter. Does it show?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-6199431272757888124?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/6199431272757888124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/tiresome-of-winter-already.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6199431272757888124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6199431272757888124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/tiresome-of-winter-already.html' title='Tiresome of Winter Already....'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S0dgH6MmmEI/AAAAAAAAAOc/yt2O82t0C-k/s72-c/snowycar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-5581443097444212869</id><published>2010-01-07T07:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-07T07:20:46.549-05:00</updated><title type='text'>HaPpY BiRtHdAy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S0XQTHCX4eI/AAAAAAAAAOU/rEl3Ivo_M5I/s1600-h/kid-birthday-cake.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423970352962724322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S0XQTHCX4eI/AAAAAAAAAOU/rEl3Ivo_M5I/s400/kid-birthday-cake.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Today I turn 32. Where did all those years go? Most of them were spent in oblivion. It's a bittersweet day for me. There's not anything I'd wish for more when blowing out those candles than to have all those wasted years back, but unfortunately no one has invented a time machine as of yet. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;As I kid I hated that I was born 2 weeks after Christmas because sometimes I got that "Happy Birthday, Merry Christmas" gift-in-one. It wasn't fair and I hated it. I guess it was worse for my cousin because when she was blowing out her candles on her 7th birthday cake I was being born. She was forever to share her day with me. Win some lose some I guess.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-5581443097444212869?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/5581443097444212869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/happy-birthday.html#comment-form' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5581443097444212869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5581443097444212869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/happy-birthday.html' title='HaPpY BiRtHdAy!'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S0XQTHCX4eI/AAAAAAAAAOU/rEl3Ivo_M5I/s72-c/kid-birthday-cake.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-7026925455579732091</id><published>2010-01-03T05:49:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T06:07:26.708-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Waitresses are People Too</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S0B5_knIn5I/AAAAAAAAAOI/rtYgROVbiok/s1600-h/disappointed_face.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422468084420616082" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S0B5_knIn5I/AAAAAAAAAOI/rtYgROVbiok/s400/disappointed_face.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know being a waitress isn't as important as being a neurosurgeon, a soldier, or holding a seat on congress but it is still a job and I feel that I should be treated as a human being. Case in point I had these 2 women in my section yesterday afternoon who not only stiffed me but made me feel less than human. Look I made myself feel that way for a very long time; that is the nature of drug addiction. The point is I don't feel that way anymore and I will not allow anyone else in this world make me feel like an animal ever again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;These 2 were bitchy to begin with. They wanted a calzone but asked if they left out 2 of the ingrediants could they substitute something else? I tried to explain to them that this is simply not allowed; I cannot substitute. I can leave the things that they didn't want out but I have to charge for the one they wanted added. It is NOT my rule; my name is not on the door, I don't make the decisions about cost or menu items. I just do my job. If I were to do this for these 2 I could very well lose that job. I am not willing to sacrifice my employment for these 2 women who showed absolutely no respect for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is it a fair rule? No. I think it's quite silly to be honest, but again IT ISN'T MY RULE. Needless to say they were a hard table to wait on. I tried my best to be as nice as possible but when I hear them snickering about me as I walk away from the table, my feelings get hurt. Believe it or not I am human and I do have feelings. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;These 2 women paid their check but left me a zero dollar tip. Thanks alot ladies. Did you really have to take out your frustration on me? Had I not told you I would have the manager come over and speak to you about the "situation"? Seriously. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not really sure why this hit so hard with me today. It is not the first time I've been stiffed and unfortunately it won't be the last, but it did hurt me. I did my job and was left unappreciated. I can't change everyone's mind but the next time you're out in a restaurant and something doesn't go your way don't take it out on the waitress; she is only doing her job.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-7026925455579732091?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/7026925455579732091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/waitresses-are-people-too.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/7026925455579732091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/7026925455579732091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/waitresses-are-people-too.html' title='Waitresses are People Too'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/S0B5_knIn5I/AAAAAAAAAOI/rtYgROVbiok/s72-c/disappointed_face.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-3387695751179046602</id><published>2010-01-01T09:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T09:30:42.991-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What Happened to New Year's Eve?</title><content type='html'>Having been in the restaurant business for nearly 20 years I think I know a thing or two about which days are better than others. New Year's eve USED to be one of the BEST Money making nights of the year. It was a "fun" night and people were usually kind and in a money spending kinda mood. Most restaurants have a limited menu, entree's only for the most part, maybe some complimentary champagne. The restaurant I work in however does not do this and it's a real shame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the fuck happened to New Year's Eve? I had a 5 top last night that ate for under $25! Are you kidding me? Five people split a large pizza, an order of zucchini and had 5 waters with lemon. Augh, these are exact examples of how NOT to order on New Year's Eve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My whole night consisted of whiny people telling me things that I could really care less about: "I am allergic to glutten, I can't eat garlic. Um you're in an Italian restaurant idiot, all we serve is pasta with garlic, get the fuck outta here! Could someone order a damn coctail already? Holy shit there should be a law against anyone over the age of 5 ordering a freakin shirley temple! You are Not cute ordering a Roy Rogers at the age of 50, its a freakin cherry coke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say I did not make my quota for the evening. Now I'm not a complete bitch, I know the economy is bad and people don't spend money all like that anymore but come on it is suppose to be a festive night, try acting like it. Why don't you splerge and have Veal Marsalla instead of a New Year's tuna hoagie? Live a little huh? For all intense purposes the world could suddenly end at the stroke of midnight and what would your last meal have been, a freaking hoagie? Get real.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-3387695751179046602?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/3387695751179046602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-happened-to-new-years-eve.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/3387695751179046602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/3387695751179046602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-happened-to-new-years-eve.html' title='What Happened to New Year&apos;s Eve?'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-657519253826364196</id><published>2009-12-30T11:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-30T11:23:50.062-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Resolutions</title><content type='html'>I'm not one to make New Year's Resolutions but this year I've been thinking about it and I came up with this idea:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to start journaling again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got clean the first time I had this amazing therapist who told me to journal all of my feelings and everything I did daily. I didn't understand why I should do this at the time, but man let me tell you, after just a few months I was journaling like an old pro. I really got in tune with myself and I loved it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why I ever stopped doing it. Laziness. Life. What have you, but I am going to try it again. Now I have to decide whether I want to just keep this personal and do it the old fashion way; pen and paper; or do I want to put it on here? What is a girl to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, before I forget I wanted to let everyone who can read: You MUST read this book:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Handle With Care" by Jodi Picoult&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read it in 2 days, it was the best book I've ever read. It was one of those books that when you start it you can not put it down no matter what is happening! It was definately a page turner. I found myself crying and laughing with the characters. There are times in the book when I wanted to scream at certain characters. I could empathize and at times I disagreed. Seriously if you're looking for a great read try it out, it is a Great book.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-657519253826364196?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/657519253826364196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/resolutions.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/657519253826364196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/657519253826364196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/resolutions.html' title='Resolutions'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-4144941471072628060</id><published>2009-12-28T10:22:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-28T10:34:19.297-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year, New LOVE?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SzjPoObgzLI/AAAAAAAAAOA/PXXWa0003yQ/s1600-h/broken_heart_by_fabu.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420310441515601074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SzjPoObgzLI/AAAAAAAAAOA/PXXWa0003yQ/s400/broken_heart_by_fabu.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why do I do this to myself? I got home this morning and the little red light is flashing away on my answering machine, yes I still live in the stone ages with an acutal answering machine, so I hit the button while juggling grocery bags and trying to not squash my cat in the process. "This is so and so from so and so firm, I have you listed as an emergency contact for a L... E.. blah blah blah. I froze. What did she just say? Did she say that name, the name that even 2 years later still sends butterflies through me? I hope she didn't say her name. Re-play, yep she did.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My first thought: How the hell did SHE get this number? When we were together we each had cell phones. This is a new number. When did she get it and why is she listing me as a contact. Does she still think of me? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After torturing myself for a few minutes I called the number. Although the woman can't tell me exactly the reason for wanting to contact L, I have a pretty good idea. It has something to do with a litigation said the woman. Oh. Okay. Is she hurt? Is she in trouble? Why in the world do I care so much? When are these thoughts and feelings for this woman who completely devastated me gonna go away? When will I stop thinking of her and what I could have done differently? Why do I still love her?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is time for me to meet someone. I am tired of being alone, no one next to me in that huge King size bed. Nobody to laugh with, to hug and kiss and be myself with. No one to cook for and no one to fuzzle my hair before I fall asleep. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To the big guy up in the sky,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;could you please send me a girl, one who will love me and respect me and NOT cheat and .....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I promise I'll be good, please I'm dying of loneliness over here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-4144941471072628060?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/4144941471072628060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/new-year-new-love.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4144941471072628060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4144941471072628060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/new-year-new-love.html' title='New Year, New LOVE?'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SzjPoObgzLI/AAAAAAAAAOA/PXXWa0003yQ/s72-c/broken_heart_by_fabu.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-1532616095822185929</id><published>2009-12-27T08:33:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T08:44:08.553-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Goods</title><content type='html'>A friend of mine Gavin (&lt;a href="http://www.insanitysmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/whats-on-your-list.html"&gt;click here&lt;/a&gt;) posted a few of his favorite things ; can't you see Maria dancing ontop of the mountain? Anyways he challenged us all to list a few of our own fav's so here are mine:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;When you meet that one person and you just know you're gonna fall head over heels for.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When I wake up and breathe a sigh of relief that I don't have to go in search of the dope man today.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When a friend calls and brightens my day.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When I'm all curled up cozy and comfy and my pain in the ass cat curls up in my lap and purrs away.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Watching babies sleep and smelling them too, oh and their little baby toes; I just love baby toes!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Having a great idea and being able to put it into words.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm stealing this from Gavin; but an "old fashion" hand written note; I love getting letters/cards in the mail.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;There are tons more but Sunday is my brain's day off and I don't want to mess up the schedule; it could end up backfiring on me. So what are some of yours?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-1532616095822185929?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/1532616095822185929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/goods.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1532616095822185929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1532616095822185929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/goods.html' title='The Goods'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-282027375113589012</id><published>2009-12-26T09:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T09:45:19.338-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby New Year!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SzYg5CXIzFI/AAAAAAAAAN4/FOQVwbYoEhI/s1600-h/art_baby_afp_gi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419555365845519442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 292px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SzYg5CXIzFI/AAAAAAAAAN4/FOQVwbYoEhI/s320/art_baby_afp_gi.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holy Crap! Yesterday brought a big bundle of Christmas joy to a chinese couple; the poor woman gave birth to a 15lb, 1' baby boy on christmas eve! Ladies can you even wrap your head around that? I am hoping for this poor woman's sake she had a C-section and didn't have to deliver that sack of potatoes vaginally!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-282027375113589012?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/282027375113589012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/baby-new-year.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/282027375113589012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/282027375113589012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/baby-new-year.html' title='Baby New Year!'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SzYg5CXIzFI/AAAAAAAAAN4/FOQVwbYoEhI/s72-c/art_baby_afp_gi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-1572929272880939562</id><published>2009-12-25T08:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T08:52:54.290-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WWF Vatican Style</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SzTBy9mZClI/AAAAAAAAANw/AtL_p1Qeu9A/s1600-h/pope.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419169332906756690" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 297px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 335px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SzTBy9mZClI/AAAAAAAAANw/AtL_p1Qeu9A/s400/pope.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am sitting here on Christmas morning, 2009 watching the Today show, enjoying my coffee and thinking ahead to the wonderful day I'll be spending with my family, when Anne reports a story about the Pope. I was barely paying attention, sipping coffee and smoking a cigarette, then I heard "the pope is doing fine today after last's night assault". WTF? Who in the hell assaults the most Holy man on the planet? I wasn't sure I heard correctly so pushed the cat off of my lap and turned the volume up on the tv, waiting for the Today show to repeat the report.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sure as shit, that's what Anne had said; a "mentally-unstable" woman leaped over several people into the center aisle and took down the pope like a WWF wrestler. What in the world? I don't claim to be religious but seriously what vendetta could this woman have against Mr. Pope? Then I heard that this same woman tried to dropkick the Pope last year as well, but I'm assuming she didn't get to actually do it. What a crazy fucked up world we live in, when the Pope is assaulted during a Christmas Eve mass. I feel bad for humanity today.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Christmas isn't about presents, and trees, and miseltoe; Christmas is about the rebirth of spirituality. Today hold your loved ones close and remember the true meaning of Christmas, and pray for the crazy lady who attacked the damn Pope!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-1572929272880939562?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/1572929272880939562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/wwf-vatican-style.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1572929272880939562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1572929272880939562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/wwf-vatican-style.html' title='WWF Vatican Style'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SzTBy9mZClI/AAAAAAAAANw/AtL_p1Qeu9A/s72-c/pope.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-1549756595406475823</id><published>2009-12-24T10:06:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T10:15:16.245-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas to all and to all a good nite!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SzODhhEJLCI/AAAAAAAAANo/xMupjsHFGXE/s1600-h/sleepingsanta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418819388491508770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SzODhhEJLCI/AAAAAAAAANo/xMupjsHFGXE/s400/sleepingsanta.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'd just like to take a minute out of a very Hectic day to wish the blogosphere a very Merry Christmas! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am usually not a very sentimental person but this year Christmas feels different for me, in a good way I might add. Last year I was still devastated by the loss of my ex and didn't want to be festive in any way. However, this holiday season I am in a much better place emotionally. I am looking forward to spending the day with my family and I am even planning on toasting my wonderful parents for their love and support.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am coming to the end of my schooling and I am swelled with pride and joy. I couldn't have done any of this without the support of my family and I need to take the time out and recognize this. It seems a lifetime ago that I was so self-centered and destructive. When I was addicted to heroin, nothing else mattered to me and I could never have imagined I'd be graduating from school, working in a medical office or paying my bills. I've come a long way, but still my journey continues. I don't allow myself to get overly proud, cockiness will take me back to the places I've worked so hard on leaving behind, I never ever forget that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So anyways I'd like to wish everybody a happy and healthy holiday season and good luck in the new year! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On a side note I was introduced to a new blog this morning and I thought I'd share it with you all, go check out: &lt;a href="http://www.thewisdomwall.com/"&gt;thewisdomwall.com  &lt;/a&gt;its pretty awesome!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-1549756595406475823?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/1549756595406475823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/merry-christmas-to-all-and-to-all-good.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1549756595406475823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1549756595406475823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/merry-christmas-to-all-and-to-all-good.html' title='Merry Christmas to all and to all a good nite!'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SzODhhEJLCI/AAAAAAAAANo/xMupjsHFGXE/s72-c/sleepingsanta.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-2731716504814572815</id><published>2009-12-20T07:29:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-20T07:41:50.999-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Wrong</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Sy4bOVBKJtI/AAAAAAAAANg/FneGR5n4QXQ/s1600-h/pregnant_woman_drinking_and_smoking.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417297334747408082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Sy4bOVBKJtI/AAAAAAAAANg/FneGR5n4QXQ/s400/pregnant_woman_drinking_and_smoking.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know what really upset me? When women take for granted all it means to bring new life into the world. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's a couple who come into the restaurant, who are nice enough and tip well, but they actually disgust me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;They are definately what I would consider alcoholics. That isn't the problem. What bothers me is that they have a baby whom they a. drink and drive with and b. sit at the bar with. A bar is no place for a kid, no matter that the baby isn't really understanding what is going on around her, it's just not the place. It'd be one thing if they were parked in a booth on the side of the bar, but no these two were bellied up to the bar, toddler in lap. So right there in the middle of his Maker's Mart on the rocks and her cabernet was tinker toys! The gentelment sitting next to them was clearly pissed off and uncomfortable; as well as he should be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Speaking of bellying up to the bar: I didn't mention that this woman is prego. Now before anyone splits their panties in an uproar, I'm not talking about an occasion glass of wine during pregnancy. This lady sucks down atleast 5 glasses each time she is in our restaurant, who knows how much she drinks at home. Here's another startling fact: this couple has lost a baby before. I don't know the specifics but I'm willing to bet money that it had something to do with drinking/fetal alcohol syndrome. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am not usually someone who judges, seeing as I myself had an addiction problem. I don't have any children though. It infuriates me that as a gay single woman in PA, I could probably Never adopt a baby and this couple is taking for granted the one that is already born and taking unnecessary risks with the unborn one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-2731716504814572815?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/2731716504814572815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/just-wrong.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/2731716504814572815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/2731716504814572815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/just-wrong.html' title='Just Wrong'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Sy4bOVBKJtI/AAAAAAAAANg/FneGR5n4QXQ/s72-c/pregnant_woman_drinking_and_smoking.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-6562660054708037764</id><published>2009-12-17T21:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T22:00:51.886-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Burnedoutw8ress-Official Extern</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SyrvZXBNBLI/AAAAAAAAANY/cemK4pZkwNM/s1600-h/smilingcow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416404720821273778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 106px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SyrvZXBNBLI/AAAAAAAAANY/cemK4pZkwNM/s400/smilingcow.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I DID IT, WHOO WHOO! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am an official extern for a medical office! I couldn't be more elated if they were paying me! Oh wait, I think being paid would actually make me explode my guts everywhere, but hey a girl can't be picky!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;No but seriously I am thrilled to have gotten the job. I really think I'll learn a lot there. The people seem really cool and sarcastic just like me; I think I'm gonna fit right in. The doctor was really cool too; not at all what I expected a doctor to be like. He actually called some of his patients "weirdos", yep this is gonna be great!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-6562660054708037764?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/6562660054708037764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/burnedoutw8ress-official-extern.html#comment-form' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6562660054708037764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6562660054708037764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/burnedoutw8ress-official-extern.html' title='Burnedoutw8ress-Official Extern'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SyrvZXBNBLI/AAAAAAAAANY/cemK4pZkwNM/s72-c/smilingcow.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-7617656419710900535</id><published>2009-12-17T07:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T07:30:03.856-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Interview #1</title><content type='html'>Well I had my very first ever formal interview yesterday, and well let's just say it didn't go as I expected;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything was going well, I made eye contact, maintained a smile, was polite, firm handshake, blah blah blah, and then the interviewer hit me with this:  "so you'll mostly be in the back of the office and perform patient care". Um, what? Apparently the interviewer didn't completely read my resume, because I am not a medical assistant, I am an administrator. She felt awful that she brought me in for no reason really, but hey it's cool. If anything it gave me a chance to get over the initial stage fright and they say to always take any interview you can, practice makes perfect!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have another interview this afternoon but I am not really all that interested. I say that only because I've talked with the office manager and she's told me that they don't do any of their billing and coding, it gets sent out to a private company. Augh, doesn't any doctor's office to their own coding? How am I ever going to get to see it done live and in person? Just a little frustrated over here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not gonna bitch and moan and after all is said and done if the only externship I can get doesn't allow me to do any coding, well then I guess I will have to take it anyway and hope for the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a good note; Man I clean up nice, I look GREAT in my professional business suit! Not too shabby for a pasta slinging burnedoutw8ress!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-7617656419710900535?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/7617656419710900535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/interview-1.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/7617656419710900535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/7617656419710900535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/interview-1.html' title='Interview #1'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-5372206777949527540</id><published>2009-12-14T15:19:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T15:22:49.293-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Confidence Restored</title><content type='html'>So I dropped about 20 resumes in the mail last week looking for an externship opportunity and I was feeling very discouraged when as of this morning I hadn't heard from a single one. That is until I got home from school today and there were 2 count em' 2 messages from doctor's offices requesting interviews with yours truly...the coffee refilling redhead is on the make! Watch out world cause here I come!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if in 17 years from now I will be calling myself burnedoutmedicalcoderwhomakesatonofmoney? Just sayin'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-5372206777949527540?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/5372206777949527540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/confidence-restored.html#comment-form' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5372206777949527540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5372206777949527540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/confidence-restored.html' title='Confidence Restored'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-6398221461378672237</id><published>2009-12-13T07:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T07:50:35.850-05:00</updated><title type='text'>All Bulk and No Brains</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SyTi3Qr_E7I/AAAAAAAAANQ/DB6Yq9IEZ8k/s1600-h/bodybuilder.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414702091006317490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 248px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 298px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SyTi3Qr_E7I/AAAAAAAAANQ/DB6Yq9IEZ8k/s320/bodybuilder.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yep, it is happend: Just when I thought people couldn't get any stupider, one of my customers last night takes the cake:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This couple I had was weird from the start; he was one of those steroid taking baby Huey's, you know the type; big muscles, no brain and she was well, unattractive to say the least but tried to cover up the ugly with about 3 tons of covergirl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, Mr. Health conscious asked me for extra napkins so he could absorb the grease from the top of his pizza, whatever loser. He piles like a dozen paper napkins ontop of his scalding hot pizza and then has the nerve to call me to the table and says this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"um, could I have a new pizza, the napkins melted into the cheese and now I can't eat it".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Are you kidding me? Fuckin people SUCK!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-6398221461378672237?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/6398221461378672237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/all-bulk-and-no-brains.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6398221461378672237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6398221461378672237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/all-bulk-and-no-brains.html' title='All Bulk and No Brains'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SyTi3Qr_E7I/AAAAAAAAANQ/DB6Yq9IEZ8k/s72-c/bodybuilder.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-8994871894671011675</id><published>2009-12-08T07:06:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T07:13:51.107-05:00</updated><title type='text'>People Suck</title><content type='html'>This post is dedicated to the couple that I endured last night...I HATE YOU!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a veryvery slow night and at 10 my boss told me and the other server we could leave (we close at 11) whoo whoo an early night, now I can get some work done on the paper I am writing for class and actually get an extra hour of sleep. Wait not so fast, I had a table that had been done eating for atleast half an hour, but they were having a "meeting" isn't that what conference rooms and offices are for? So as I'm giving them the evil waitress eye don't you know that another table walks in off the street! Damn it all to hell!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's 10:30 and I could've been home half hour ago but whatever. This couple seems to notice their surroundings and asks me if it's too late to get something to eat. I try in my most sincerest voice to not tell them to get the fuck outta here! They were very conscious of the fact that it was late and they said that they wouldn't keep me they were gonna eat and run. Ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't you know like 3 minutes after the new couple sits down, my other table is ready to leave! Damn it if they would'a just left 10 minutes ago all would be well with the world, but no such luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I serve the couple and expect that since it is now 11:15 and they are the only people in the place and they said they'd be fast, they'd be leaving. Nope!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These fuckers continuted to sit there until 11:45, an hour and 45 minutes after the fact that I couldve been showered, studied, and in bed! I hate people!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-8994871894671011675?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/8994871894671011675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/people-suck.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8994871894671011675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8994871894671011675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/people-suck.html' title='People Suck'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-8813075710736485519</id><published>2009-12-07T06:50:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T07:07:19.302-05:00</updated><title type='text'>CODING BLITZ</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxzvqVaBMaI/AAAAAAAAANI/Mk26-VbUDUY/s1600-h/ben-roethlisberger.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412464362772312482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 241px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxzvqVaBMaI/AAAAAAAAANI/Mk26-VbUDUY/s320/ben-roethlisberger.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I spent the weekend at what you could call a "training session" for medical coding. The woman giving the seminar called it a Coding Blitz and after the 16 hours I spent in that room, I now understand what she meant. I feel like Big Ben Rothlesburger right now! I've been blitzed and I can't get up!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In seriousness I am glad I went. I learned an awful lot that I didn't know about code selection and I also met 2 women who are going to pass my resume on to their bosses for me. I'm hoping to get an externship out of this! I'm coming around to the home stretch of my academic training and honestly I'm a little afraid!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As much as I want to get out of the restaurant industry; it is ALL I know! I've been waiting on tables since I was 13 years old and I've never held any other kind of job. Will I let this defeat me? No, of course not, but being the hyper freak that hates change I've got to spew my fears on to my fellow bloggers! I am afraid (don't let this get out, my rep as bitchy, hardass waitress will suffer) I won't find anyone willing to hire me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've done all the prep work: I've written the resume, the cover page, I've put together a portfolio, I've maintained a 3.98 GPA and I've gotten tons of professor's recommendations, but still...I'm being torn from my comfort zone and I don't like it! Just thinking about going on interviews and describing myself makes me throw up a little in my mouth! Just being honest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Any suggestions out there for a hopeless nonprofessional hard-ass waitress?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-8813075710736485519?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/8813075710736485519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/coding-blitz.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8813075710736485519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/8813075710736485519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/coding-blitz.html' title='CODING BLITZ'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxzvqVaBMaI/AAAAAAAAANI/Mk26-VbUDUY/s72-c/ben-roethlisberger.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-48074624692660753</id><published>2009-12-03T22:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T23:14:17.439-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Waitressing Flashbacks Part III</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxiMWyxFGnI/AAAAAAAAANA/6g2u1AXAj4c/s1600-h/koolaidman.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411229275498289778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxiMWyxFGnI/AAAAAAAAANA/6g2u1AXAj4c/s320/koolaidman.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sorry it's taken me so long to post part 3; hope you all enjoy it as much as &lt;a href="http://www.burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/waitressing-flashbacks-part-i.html"&gt;Part I&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/waitressing-flashbacks-part-ii.html"&gt;Part II&lt;/a&gt;! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have a confession to make: the story I posted about &lt;a href="http://www.burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/waitressing-flashbacks-part-i.html"&gt;MOBY DICK'S &lt;/a&gt;Grilled cheese was an experience of my cousin J's who also worked at the same restaurant. Sorry J, here's your credit now get off my freaking back; love ya!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Oh Yea!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This hilarious episode came from a dear friend of mine whom I currently work with. She was at a previous job when a woman with 4 kids sat in her section. Of course like most of these dreaded tables the kids were obnoxious and the mother was 10 times more obnoxious. The icing on the cake was when the woman asked my friend to please bring over a pitcher of water with no ice and 5 glasses. Not really thinking much about it, my friend brings over the pitcher and walks away. As she glances back over her section she sees the woman ripping open a packet of cherry flavored Kool-Aid and proceeds to mix her own beverage of choice for her and her brats! Of course my friend was pissed; as well as she should have been, you don't bring your own drinks into a restaurant for God's sake have a little class, huh. My irate friend goes to her manager who was a complete pansy to tell him what's going on and his spineless ass just tells her to let it go. What a weinie! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Trix are for kids&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My aunt, yep the same one, recently had an altercation at the restaurant she works at. I swear this restaurant attracts more assholes and weirdos than any other place on earth! But getting back to the story... this restaurants policy on ordering from the children's menu goes like this: any child under the age of 10 may order from the kiddie menu. Ok not rocket science here right? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A very obese woman sits at one of my aunt's tables and asks for a child's menu, my aunt nicely explains to her that she is in fact too old to order from the children's menu but tells the woman that they do have a "senior" menu which anyone can order from. The woman is baffled and pissed off and decides to just leave. Whatever no skin off my aunt's ass, ya know. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next week the same woman plops her fat ass in my aunt's table again and before my aunt can say anything the woman whips a prescription from her purse and says that she is on a strict diet and her doctor wrote her a prescription to order off of the child's menu! WTF! Without missing a beat my aunt says and I quote, "I'm sorry but we don't fill prescriptions here"! Man I wish I was there. But once again we humble servers lose the good fight and management lets this woman order her kids breakfast for $1.99. Cheap bitch!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Ultimate fighting--server style&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is never a good idea to date someone you work with. At a place I worked at years ago the head waitress was dating one of the cooks. It was one of those tumultuous relationships that was just doomed to fail. Those two fought like cats and dogs while they were hashing out food to the hundreds of customers, and then as soon as they got a couple of beers in them they were all lovey dovey again. This "courtship" went on and off again for 3 odd years. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A new waitress starts, and of course the head waitress has to train her but instead of explaining the rules and showing her where things are the head waitress tells her trainee that HER boyfriend is the cook and to stay away from him. Can you imagine what is going through this girls head; she probably just like WTF I'm just here to make some money.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You can see where this story is going to go right? Well of course the cook and the new girl "hookup" and the head waitress finds out. The real problem is not so much that she found out, but when she found out. It was a crazy, busy, jamming Friday night. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was minding my own business, trying to punch an order into the computer when all of a sudden I hear a loud crash. I peek into the kitchen and these two waitresses are going at it like Mike Tyson style; fists are flying, words are spewing and hair is everywhere! Just as I finish putting my order in, the doors to the kitchen come flying open and out comes a tornadous whirlwind of cat-fighting waitresses! They literally beat the shit out of each other in the middle of the dining room! Itwas total mayhem! Everyone just stood there, nobody had a clue what to do so we just let them duke it out! Customers were placing bets, odds were being calculated, it was great!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The newbie ended up mopping the floor with the head waitress and 2 weeks later they were both fired! What a great night though I tell you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-48074624692660753?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/48074624692660753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/waitressing-flashbacks-part-iii.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/48074624692660753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/48074624692660753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/waitressing-flashbacks-part-iii.html' title='Waitressing Flashbacks Part III'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxiMWyxFGnI/AAAAAAAAANA/6g2u1AXAj4c/s72-c/koolaidman.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-4371983897330461684</id><published>2009-12-03T07:23:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T07:35:07.840-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Burndoutw8ress, Pet Psychic</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxewImhp4uI/AAAAAAAAAM4/SUGk25BPyr0/s1600-h/mia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410987139136086754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 314px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxewImhp4uI/AAAAAAAAAM4/SUGk25BPyr0/s320/mia.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think I have finally lost it! I have just spent the last 20 minutes having a conversation with my cat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mia, while cut as hell, is an incessant crier. She whines this tiny little Meow at all hours of the day and night and for no good reason I might add. She only started this little habit after the EX left a year or so ago. Can she really be missing her?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok so I did try to be understanding at first but now I am ready to kill her. That incessant little cry is annoying! I try everything: treats, a belly rub, petting, brushing, nothing works. She doesn't want anything, she just likes to hear herself I think.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I pulled Mia onto my lap and asked her "what can I do to make you stop this whining?". She stared at me with those big golden eyes like, "but whatever are you talking about mommy?" then she starts purring. Augh! We are going to get to the bottom of this I say to her. I start talking with her as if I am her shrink. "Ok Mia what are you feeling right now". No answer just continued purring. This one sided conversation goes on until I realize that I am indeed talking to a cat and she is going to do whatever she wants. Cats are finicky that way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-4371983897330461684?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/4371983897330461684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/burndoutw8ress-pet-psychic.html#comment-form' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4371983897330461684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4371983897330461684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/12/burndoutw8ress-pet-psychic.html' title='Burndoutw8ress, Pet Psychic'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxewImhp4uI/AAAAAAAAAM4/SUGk25BPyr0/s72-c/mia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-4405909683169631742</id><published>2009-11-30T09:43:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T10:02:24.936-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shitting Triangles</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxPaZ7OKnSI/AAAAAAAAAMw/0U87ZGtpk1o/s1600/constipation.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409907716330790178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 355px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxPaZ7OKnSI/AAAAAAAAAMw/0U87ZGtpk1o/s400/constipation.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I of course have to make a joke about a serious problem I am having as a result of the medicine I must take to remain sober. I'm talking of course about methadone, which I take to be able to function without heroin.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am grateful to methadone for saving my life and getting me to stop shooting dope but the side effects are gruesome! The biggest problem that methadone or opiate users for that matter, face is severe constipation. I experienced this when I was still using dope but whenever I felt the rumbling feelings of gas bubbles I'd just do another bag and those pesky pains would go away.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am now not so lucky! There are times when I can't go for days. And I mean days. days. and days. It hurts to say the least.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was in so much pain that I just couldn't take it anymore and I had to go the emergency room. Let me remind you that I am one of 50 million Americans who is UNINSURED, but I had to go. Talk about being embarrased; I wanted to crawl into a hole and die rather than tell the admitting nurse what brought me in to the hospital. I sucked it up and told and 2 hours later I got to see the doctor. All they could really do for me is give me an enema. Gross. That is all I have to say about that. But I felt better...until I got the bill: $425 for a freakin enema. Seriously you can buy a fleet enema at Rite Aid for about a buck!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I take an array of stomach/bowel meds daily: Miralax, laxatives, stool softners, fiber, fiber, fiber, water and more fiber. Yet I still get debilitating pains. I don't understand it and I can't stand it anymore.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I know that the easiest solution would be to just get off the methadone, but that scares me. What will happen. I am running myself ragged with school full-time and working full-time and I'm just afraid that if I get off meth I'll give in to cravings and exhaustion. That has been my problem every single time I get clean, I get tired and weak and I succumb to the evils of heroin.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;For now I guess the best I can do is suck up the pain.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-4405909683169631742?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/4405909683169631742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-of-course-have-to-make-joke-about.html#comment-form' title='24 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4405909683169631742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4405909683169631742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-of-course-have-to-make-joke-about.html' title='Shitting Triangles'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxPaZ7OKnSI/AAAAAAAAAMw/0U87ZGtpk1o/s72-c/constipation.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>24</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-6271227374357359819</id><published>2009-11-30T07:48:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T07:58:42.104-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Best Show EVER</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxPBcpRBikI/AAAAAAAAAMo/tYaOAPqz0e0/s1600/rockettesnativy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409880275259853378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxPBcpRBikI/AAAAAAAAAMo/tYaOAPqz0e0/s400/rockettesnativy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxO_bgkm-_I/AAAAAAAAAMg/lTzTOC3uakI/s1600/rockettesoldiers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409878056722955250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxO_bgkm-_I/AAAAAAAAAMg/lTzTOC3uakI/s400/rockettesoldiers.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; OMG, that was the BEST live performance I have ever seen! To say that I loved it isn't giving it enough justice! I was entranced for the entire show, it was just wonderful! I'm usually not much of a Christmas kinda gal but the Rockettes definately got me "in the mood" in more ways than one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok maybe that was saying too much! But if you have the chance to see these high kicking, dancing machines do NOT hesitate! Someday I would love to get up to New York City to see them perform at their home stage but believe me Pittsburgh's production was spectacular.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I had to choose a favorite scene it would have to be the wooden soldiers. I can't even imagine how many hours of rehearsals these girls go through to get it just right. Everyone is in unison and they have to be all stiff like soldiers and then fall into eachother, it is just great! I felt like a little kid again and I guess that's what Christmas is all about!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxO_bBAv0FI/AAAAAAAAAMY/lBJpaANqhlo/s1600/rockettes-music-hall.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxO_a-2MOkI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/21sUyiOOa6k/s1600/rockettesantas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409878047669893698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxO_a-2MOkI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/21sUyiOOa6k/s400/rockettesantas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxO_aq1vn-I/AAAAAAAAAMI/wspXgeOHMnY/s1600/rockettes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409878042299310050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxO_aq1vn-I/AAAAAAAAAMI/wspXgeOHMnY/s400/rockettes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-6271227374357359819?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/6271227374357359819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/best-show-ever.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6271227374357359819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6271227374357359819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/best-show-ever.html' title='Best Show EVER'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxPBcpRBikI/AAAAAAAAAMo/tYaOAPqz0e0/s72-c/rockettesnativy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-1021807514906263807</id><published>2009-11-29T06:46:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T06:55:46.275-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Radio City here I come!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;To Shirley, the woman I had the displease of waiting on yesterday afternoon, I will be watching for you and will be expecting the tip you so graciously "forgot" to leave me! Be afraid, be very afraid...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well I feel better!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So guess where I am going today? To see the Radio City Christmas Spectacular featuring none other than the ROCKETTES! I am so excited. I love live performances and I've never seen the rockettes before. There are 9 of my female family members going; we are gonna have a blast! I'll let you know how it was, stay tuned....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409492551333660818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxJg0JFdSJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/lGogY_EERpU/s400/Rockettes_Tickets.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-1021807514906263807?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/1021807514906263807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/radio-city-here-i-come.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1021807514906263807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1021807514906263807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/radio-city-here-i-come.html' title='Radio City here I come!'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxJg0JFdSJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/lGogY_EERpU/s72-c/Rockettes_Tickets.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-3264882779227746701</id><published>2009-11-28T08:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-28T08:49:13.168-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Where's that 8 year old little girl?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxEn9qpgLlI/AAAAAAAAAL4/Gh8wJchow0Q/s1600/annieand+mshanigan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409148567822544466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 220px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxEn9qpgLlI/AAAAAAAAAL4/Gh8wJchow0Q/s400/annieand+mshanigan.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;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!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;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!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;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!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;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!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;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! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;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. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-3264882779227746701?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/3264882779227746701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/wheres-that-8-year-old-little-girl.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/3264882779227746701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/3264882779227746701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/wheres-that-8-year-old-little-girl.html' title='Where&apos;s that 8 year old little girl?'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SxEn9qpgLlI/AAAAAAAAAL4/Gh8wJchow0Q/s72-c/annieand+mshanigan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-6121005267867011507</id><published>2009-11-26T08:21:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T08:30:44.809-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Thanksgiving of Hope</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Sw6A6d_NHsI/AAAAAAAAALw/tqIdPsB-Evg/s1600/thankfultree.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408401944489041602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 104px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Sw6A6d_NHsI/AAAAAAAAALw/tqIdPsB-Evg/s400/thankfultree.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;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.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;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. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;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.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;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.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Happy Thanksgiving Blogosphere!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-6121005267867011507?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/6121005267867011507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/thanksgiving-of-hope.html#comment-form' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6121005267867011507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6121005267867011507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/thanksgiving-of-hope.html' title='A Thanksgiving of Hope'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Sw6A6d_NHsI/AAAAAAAAALw/tqIdPsB-Evg/s72-c/thankfultree.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-3685785090373430621</id><published>2009-11-25T07:13:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-25T07:54:52.649-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Waitressing Flashbacks Part II</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Here it is, drum roll please...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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 &lt;a href="http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/waitressing-flashbacks-part-i.html"&gt;Moby Dick &lt;/a&gt;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!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Getting down to business, here are just a couple of tidbits of what I and my fellow employees had to put up with everyday:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Sw0o_3PjA-I/AAAAAAAAALo/cWxD41-KvNQ/s1600/superburger.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408023805167862754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 125px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 138px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Sw0o_3PjA-I/AAAAAAAAALo/cWxD41-KvNQ/s320/superburger.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. The Hamburgular&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Toast&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are usually 3 of them, sometimes 4. Anyways they all order toast.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know what you're thinking, what's so difficult about ordering toast? Let me explain...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;These heifers still come in everyday, I know because my aunt waits on them now, so sorry aunt M!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stay tuned for parts III- XXX; I could go on with these forever!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-3685785090373430621?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/3685785090373430621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/waitressing-flashbacks-part-ii.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/3685785090373430621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/3685785090373430621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/waitressing-flashbacks-part-ii.html' title='Waitressing Flashbacks Part II'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Sw0o_3PjA-I/AAAAAAAAALo/cWxD41-KvNQ/s72-c/superburger.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-1735661462330200569</id><published>2009-11-24T18:13:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T18:15:44.752-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bookworm lost without a read</title><content type='html'>Ok I know that I just posted but I need some help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am an avid reader and at the moment can't find anything to read! So anyone have any suggestions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to read biographies, memoirs, fiction and the classics as well. NO romance or sci-fi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok thanks&lt;br /&gt;burnedout with nothin to read!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-1735661462330200569?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/1735661462330200569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/bookworm-lost-without-read.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1735661462330200569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1735661462330200569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/bookworm-lost-without-read.html' title='Bookworm lost without a read'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-5055364315551165539</id><published>2009-11-24T17:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T17:54:10.757-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday rocks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Swxhbf3UayI/AAAAAAAAALg/1TxKVjDOgHo/s1600/pignboots.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407804377603009314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 218px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Swxhbf3UayI/AAAAAAAAALg/1TxKVjDOgHo/s320/pignboots.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am HaPpIeR than a pig in shit today!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;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!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I love when I am reminded of how good I am at what I do.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;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!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;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?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-5055364315551165539?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/5055364315551165539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/monday-rocks.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5055364315551165539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5055364315551165539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/monday-rocks.html' title='Monday rocks'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Swxhbf3UayI/AAAAAAAAALg/1TxKVjDOgHo/s72-c/pignboots.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-191104396123657720</id><published>2009-11-22T07:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T08:25:24.417-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Waitressing Flashbacks Part I</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Swk7qG2hRTI/AAAAAAAAALY/emc3-GkqBaY/s1600/pecanball1.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406918422214821170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 223px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 223px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Swk7qG2hRTI/AAAAAAAAALY/emc3-GkqBaY/s320/pecanball1.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. The Crisco Fiasco&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;At a restaurant she worked in 20 years ago they had a glass, &lt;strong&gt;refrigerated &lt;/strong&gt;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 &lt;strong&gt;frozen&lt;/strong&gt; 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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Long story short the woman felt like a jackass and my mother got the satisfaction she deserved!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You should have seen the look on Moby's face! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-191104396123657720?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/191104396123657720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/waitressing-flashbacks-part-i.html#comment-form' title='20 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/191104396123657720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/191104396123657720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/waitressing-flashbacks-part-i.html' title='Waitressing Flashbacks Part I'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Swk7qG2hRTI/AAAAAAAAALY/emc3-GkqBaY/s72-c/pecanball1.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>20</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-5836405669184208924</id><published>2009-11-20T09:27:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T09:39:19.442-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Radio Please</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Swap2sQbRKI/AAAAAAAAALQ/cM1gJ6S0Ugg/s1600/carolers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406195159762945186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Swap2sQbRKI/AAAAAAAAALQ/cM1gJ6S0Ugg/s320/carolers.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SwapsrdYluI/AAAAAAAAALI/Fx0Yk-wxbjo/s1600/carolers.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What is up with the Christmas tunes already? Is it just Pittsburgh or all of you people over the world being brainwashed too?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm all for Chirstmas carols but come on it's not even Thanksgiving yet! I hate when they do this, the radio stations that is, every year it seems they start playing them earlier and earlier. If they keep this rate up we'll be humming jingle bells on the 4th of July for chirst's sake!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just can't get into the holiday spirit when it is 55 degrees and there are still leaves on the trees! I know that this freakish weather isn't normal for an eastern state but seriously I am drawing the line. Please can we celebrate one holiday at a time! The poor turkeys, they are getting the shaft!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I like Christmas just as much as the next guy but it is too damned early for jingle bells, I'll be sick of these tunes before we even get a first snowfall! If I have to listen to ole chris cringle for the next 6 weeks I wont have to wait for reindeer; I'll run grandma over with my chevy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-5836405669184208924?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/5836405669184208924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/radio-please.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5836405669184208924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5836405669184208924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/radio-please.html' title='Radio Please'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Swap2sQbRKI/AAAAAAAAALQ/cM1gJ6S0Ugg/s72-c/carolers.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-2754264720261597991</id><published>2009-11-20T07:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T07:44:44.817-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fear</title><content type='html'>It's only 7 am and already I've been hit with a bomb. When my phone rang at this early morning hour I immediately went into panic mode; who the hell is calling me this early? It was my father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said to me that he has something very important he needs to discuss with me, um ok daddy what's going on? The jist is this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The company that my father has worked for for the last 34 years held a meeting this past week and told him and the other employees that they will be moving but they're not sure when and they will hope to be able to tell the employees by January. I am speechless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad doesn't know whether or not he will have a job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am floored and tears are welling up in my eyes. You know what my wonderful rock of a father tells me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I will make it through this".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The strength that eminates from my father is unfreaking believable. He is such a quiet and serene man. "Such is life" he tells me. He is the rock that holds my family together. I use to think it was my mother, who by the way is freaking out (and rightfully so) but no it is my dad, definately. He has this kind of courage that you just don't see anymore. I love that man to pieces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we were hanging up he tells me that he is gonna get all his ducks in a row and whatever happens, happens. He is not bitter, he's not freaking out, kicking or screaming, crying, No he's getting their finances straight and looking at options and talking about a future. He is my hero today and I only wish to have half of his strength.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my parents and I am scared for them. I know this is happening to Americans all over the country, but that doesn't offer any comfort. What is happening to our country? People who work hard all thier lives and do the right thing are getting shit on and I for one am sick of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am by no means a religious person, so I'll ask you folks if you could, would you send some positive thoughts my family's way?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-2754264720261597991?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/2754264720261597991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/fear.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/2754264720261597991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/2754264720261597991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/fear.html' title='Fear'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-5919894018489442853</id><published>2009-11-19T14:16:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T14:31:47.585-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yea I'm a Bitch, So What Else You Got For Me?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SwWchMGg0TI/AAAAAAAAALA/pYeSmJzRKIg/s1600/uglymanbaby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405899021726306610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 232px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SwWchMGg0TI/AAAAAAAAALA/pYeSmJzRKIg/s320/uglymanbaby.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to talk about how much I hate waiting on kids, toddlers, children, gremlins, babies etc. The other night I let out a sigh of disgust as I watched a family of 4 small children being sat in my section.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yep you're right; I am prejudice. I HATE kids. No, I do not give you the benefit of the doubt; I judge you and your kids before I even approach your table.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am bias I know, but after 17 years of cleaning up puke, throwing way tons of soggy sugar packets, and having my eardrums explode out of the side of my head I feel as though I am entitled to my hatred of ankle bitting toddlers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Case in point:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I am trying to take the order from the ADULT at the table, this whiny, snot-nosed little brat screams at me "hey lady". What? Are you f...ing kidding me, have some respect for your elders kid, I am here to make sure your stupid chicken fingers get here for you to shove into your face hole.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am NOT one of those waitresses that dote over your "cute" offspring. Personally I don't think its so special that little Janey lost her tooth. Big fucking deal--we all lose teeth. Show me something truly spectacular like an olympic medal or your degree from brain surgery school or something.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;While I'm at it, your precious newborn isn't all the cute. Frankly, she's quite ugly; she looks like an alien. Her skin is all wrinkly, her ears stick out from her big bald head and she's got a bad case of cradle cap, eww her head skin is fluffing off onto the table! Get her outta here or atleast put her back in that devise that took you an hour to get out of the car and lets say we get down to business:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Would you like soup or salad with your chicken parm?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-5919894018489442853?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/5919894018489442853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/yea-im-bitch-so-what-else-you-got-for.html#comment-form' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5919894018489442853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5919894018489442853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/yea-im-bitch-so-what-else-you-got-for.html' title='Yea I&apos;m a Bitch, So What Else You Got For Me?!'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SwWchMGg0TI/AAAAAAAAALA/pYeSmJzRKIg/s72-c/uglymanbaby.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-6667323323889811171</id><published>2009-11-18T08:13:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T09:09:07.431-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid is as Stupid does</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SwP2KH10uvI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/NJW-YPE1kh4/s1600/ageofstupid.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405434631538653938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 116px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 116px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SwP2KH10uvI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/NJW-YPE1kh4/s320/ageofstupid.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The belief that our American children are retards has been proven yet again to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday I am sitting in my sociology class and I can't help but overhear the girl sitting next to me. She is asking her friend about the paper we had due that morning. She had to research the topic Indian government. Her question was... Did you really write your paper or did you just cut and paste it from the internet? Her equally dumb friend replied..."dah, I can't write I just copied it from Wikipedia".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After rolling my eyes about 100 times I decide I am going to enlighten these two morons about a little thing called plagerism.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I say to them... "You do realize that what you did is plagerism right"? Their blank stares told me that no they did not know what I was talking about. I tried to explain that when you use something that has already been written by someone else you have to cite it and can't take the credit for someone else's work. Easy enough, common sense, right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wrong.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Their reply to my infinite wisdom....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Well Ms. S. didn't say that we had to use citations".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Really stupid. Isn't this common knowledge? What the fuck are we teaching kids in school? I don't know about you but I just assumed that everyone knew the rules about copyrights and plagerism and doing your OWN work?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;God I cant wait to be done with school.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would also like to say that I miss &lt;a href="http://www.triloquist.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ron&lt;/a&gt;, hope you're enjoying your intermission buddy, but please hurry back; the withdrawl is getting pretty bad over here!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-6667323323889811171?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/6667323323889811171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/stupid-is-as-stupid-does.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6667323323889811171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6667323323889811171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/stupid-is-as-stupid-does.html' title='Stupid is as Stupid does'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SwP2KH10uvI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/NJW-YPE1kh4/s72-c/ageofstupid.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-6302884221754999803</id><published>2009-11-15T10:33:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T10:53:19.260-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SwAjFqnIUAI/AAAAAAAAAKI/_K139cXDcBM/s1600-h/heroin+tatoo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404358133089325058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 249px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SwAjFqnIUAI/AAAAAAAAAKI/_K139cXDcBM/s320/heroin+tatoo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today is one of those days .... I want to get high.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to escape.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't want to feel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am tired, so tired, overworked, and discouraged. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alone and afraid.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I get so mad at myself for feeling this way; my life is going really good. Things could be so much worse; I could have no home, no food, no future. What is wrong with me? Why am I so self defeating? What is this allure of a drug that nearly killed me? Hiding won't do me any good, it won't make me "feel" better, it won't make me energetic; it will destroy again. It will rape me; it will cause turmoil and disgust and hopelessness. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Instead of doing what I am supposed to do:  ignore, talk about, work through the urge, I am romanticizing. The needle slides into my vein like butter, the dark omniscent blood flows into the syringe and as I push the plunger the heroin slams into me like a roaring freight train. I feel it's warmth from the top of my head down to my toes. I am awashed in pleasure, no feeling, no anxiety, love and ... death. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have to stop this. I need to stop this. I don't want to stop this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Somedays I really HATE being a recovering drug addict. I hate this battle that I have to endure. Fighting myself is so difficult; but I must do it. I must not let It win again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I imagine what my life will be like if I were to get high today. It is not the picture I want to see. I will not go back there. I will talk about this ugly feeling and I will not pick up the needle. I am safe again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-6302884221754999803?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/6302884221754999803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/today-is-one-of-those-days.html#comment-form' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6302884221754999803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/6302884221754999803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/today-is-one-of-those-days.html' title=''/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SwAjFqnIUAI/AAAAAAAAAKI/_K139cXDcBM/s72-c/heroin+tatoo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-1001974228658050745</id><published>2009-11-13T15:52:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T16:11:16.689-05:00</updated><title type='text'>AUGH!!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Sv3LPkgkyCI/AAAAAAAAAKA/q-gpFDHkCIs/s1600-h/angryteacher.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403698596273244194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 243px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Sv3LPkgkyCI/AAAAAAAAAKA/q-gpFDHkCIs/s320/angryteacher.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am one of those people who get annoyed on a regular basis. I can't help it; I am not a very accepting person, sue me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of the things that pisses me off the most is blatent disrespect.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have mentioned before that I am attending school. My "college" is one of those 18 month programs, trade-school kinda deals. We are not a University by any means, but we are no doubt an Institution of Learning. When I signed my life away and took out the frightening large amount of money to attend this "school" I was under the impression that I would be attending classes with other adults.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was lied to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't want to be one of those old people who bitch and moan about the young people today, but ... OMG the kids today are out of control!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;They are so rude to everyone; teachers, other students, the janitor. I am sitting in class today trying to work on a paper I have to write about the French language. Even though I am in a classroom I cannot hear myself think. Everyone is shouting over one another trying to be heard, phones are ringing, people are texting, fighting, Kissing! Really? Kissing, get a room!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why can't teachers beat kids anymore? When was this outlawed? I wish that I could beat them. In my day, the teachers had control of the classroom. We were taught to be quiet and respect other people. What is it exactly we are teaching these kids today when we give them this sense of entitlement that they seem to possess? Honestly we're not helping them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Parents, teachers, milkmen everywhere...Beat the kids again-they need it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just wonderin...what irritates you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-1001974228658050745?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/1001974228658050745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/augh.html#comment-form' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1001974228658050745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/1001974228658050745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/augh.html' title='AUGH!!!!!'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Sv3LPkgkyCI/AAAAAAAAAKA/q-gpFDHkCIs/s72-c/angryteacher.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-983750644850231606</id><published>2009-11-13T05:48:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T06:03:12.749-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stow it Edith</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Sv08B-lEmvI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/pc1yExm-AR0/s1600-h/girlsatresttable.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403541132590488306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Sv08B-lEmvI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/pc1yExm-AR0/s320/girlsatresttable.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would like to dedicate this post to the two women I had the pleasure of waiting on last night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Table 26 I'd like to say... a big fat Fuck you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;These 2 women, who ordered 2 waters and 1 pizza between the two of them, are frequenters of my section (unfortuantely) and last night I had had enough of their crap.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I brought their pizza to the table, one of them started to complain that the pizza was "really kinda thin". I refrained from telling them that our pizza is a THIN crust, of course unless specified thick; I apologized and asked if I could have them make a new pizza for them. This idea was shot down before I even got it out of my mouth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you are going to bitch about something, but then not want anything done about it; Shut the fuck up because I really don't give a shit if your crust is too thin. I am just saying that if you're bitching just to hear your own voice, Don't cause this 'superwaitress' isn't listening anymore!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To prove my point the pizza couldn't have been all that bad, I mean the heifers ate the whole thing!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tip your servers, we have to deal with a ton of bullshit that we shouldn't have to and apologize for things that are not our fault!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-983750644850231606?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/983750644850231606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/stow-it-edith.html#comment-form' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/983750644850231606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/983750644850231606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/stow-it-edith.html' title='Stow it Edith'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Sv08B-lEmvI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/pc1yExm-AR0/s72-c/girlsatresttable.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-5520821971131188533</id><published>2009-11-12T15:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T15:17:08.894-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SvxqAESckwI/AAAAAAAAAJo/41XA8wQgjfA/s1600-h/catherdraloflearning.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403310202321408770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 248px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SvxqAESckwI/AAAAAAAAAJo/41XA8wQgjfA/s320/catherdraloflearning.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The other day I had to make an excursion to a part of town I rarely get to see; Oakland. Now for those of you who are unfamiliar with Pittsburgh, Oakland is home to dozens of hospitals, colleges and of course The University of Pittsburgh's main campus. The campus sprawls over most of the cement landscape of the neighborhood.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;As I stepped off of that bus it felt as though I was being transported to another place in time; a place that I could have and should have been. I walked through the maze of beaten pathways and allowed myself to fantasize that I was one of the lucky students who attended this college. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I pictured myself as one of those scholarly types; backpack strewn across one shoulder, open text book in the other as I casually make my way between classes, smoking a cigarette and enjoying a double latte, extra foam.  I swear to you I could feel the intelligence in the air, I could smell the debates brewing amongst students, and I could hear the lecturing of a well-known professor. I suddenly very much needed it to be real; I have this great desire to be a student at a University now. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I can't help but wonder that if my life hadn't turned the corner it did, would I have gotten the chance to be one of these students here or maybe somewhere in Boston? The bigger question I asked myself was that if I had had that chance would I have felt the same admiration and appreciated it the way I did right now? Would I have even took notice of the sprawling campus or the architecture of the old buildings around me? Would I have loved my experience or would I have thrown it all away?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I would have probably ended up wasting a ton of my parents money and a lot of my time. Life happens for a reason. So I didn't get the chance to go off to some great college then, but if I play my cards right I could one day end up walking those paths as an official student, right?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-5520821971131188533?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/5520821971131188533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/other-day-i-had-to-make-excursion-to.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5520821971131188533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/5520821971131188533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/other-day-i-had-to-make-excursion-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/SvxqAESckwI/AAAAAAAAAJo/41XA8wQgjfA/s72-c/catherdraloflearning.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8779101194738428280.post-4771565142180852548</id><published>2009-11-11T17:34:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T17:47:47.661-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Veterans of America</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Svs-huWBaqI/AAAAAAAAAJY/XIgWQG8a7Cw/s1600-h/vietnam-memorial.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402978209524157986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Svs8DivdDiI/AAAAAAAAAJI/ubFb-IZzwHI/s400/salutingflag.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Svs-huWBaqI/AAAAAAAAAJY/XIgWQG8a7Cw/s1600-h/vietnam-memorial.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402980927058045602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Svs-huWBaqI/AAAAAAAAAJY/XIgWQG8a7Cw/s320/vietnam-memorial.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I would like to take a moment to thank each and every veteran and active military member for your selfless service to our country.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;My father is a Vietnam Veteran. I don't know much about his tour, but the stuff he has shared with me is enough to know that I could not have done what they did. No amount of words can truly express my gratitude and love for my father as a soldier. He was a young man of 18 when he was shipped thousands of miles away to a jungle he knew nothing of. My father had lost his own father a mere 4 years before he left for Vietnam. Maybe he was searching for him. Maybe my dad was searching for himself. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Growing up with a Vet for a dad I learned early on to respect soldiers everywhere by thanking them whenever and where ever I run into them. Whether we were in the grocery store or the mall, when my father saw a fellow soldier he always approached them and said his thank you's. I am ashamed to admit this but when I was younger this act embarrassed me and I thought my dad was a strange man. On this day of rememberance I realize that my father is not strange my father is a respectful, loving, devoted soldier who is still trying to heal his wounds.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Please take a minute out of what is left this Veteran's Day to say thank you to the men and women who are giving their lives for our freedom.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8779101194738428280-4771565142180852548?l=burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/feeds/4771565142180852548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/veterans-of-america.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4771565142180852548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8779101194738428280/posts/default/4771565142180852548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burnedoutwaitress.blogspot.com/2009/11/veterans-of-america.html' title='Veterans of America'/><author><name>Brndoutw8ress</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14959665356418479402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/StOCNq1UKxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/dypvXOLiSyg/S220/blogprofpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1kXdCFUgcdE/Svs8DivdDiI/AAAAAAAAAJI/ubFb-IZzwHI/s72-c/salutingflag.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry></feed>
