That Whole Thing
I think that my very first crush (it was a confused, 2nd grade kind of thing) just friended me on facebook. Jesus. That kid REMEMBERED me? Sometimes, pals, I have these moments when it occurs to me that I should probably be more careful in my speech and behavior. I may just be a whole hell of a lot more conspicuous than I think.
He goes to GA state now and I can't help but wonder what he's like. Looking at his facebook he seems completely...but I really don't remember him that way. I mean, he definitely was, but there was something else there, too. That bit of history is rather interesting, but I won't get into it now. A whole 'nother can of worms, as they say.
Anyway, about waitressing. I recommend it to everyone. Tips are the shit. According to my calculations (and if you've ever seen me try to count change, you won't rely on them too much) I make about $10-$18 dollars an hour. The difference depends on how busy that particular shift turns out to be, and if I'm nice. Customers really should be nice to me first, but it's still an incredibly good deal. And the restaurant where I work is fairly slow and low-end: people waiting tables at a busy Applebees must make a surprisingly livable wage.
You really need to make a livable wage at Tom's, because apparently it is the Bermuda Triangle of female sanity. Half the girls I work with are pregnant, think that they may be pregnant, or already have a toddler. And all of these girls are exactly my age. When I ask why they're not on birth control, they shrug.
Sometimes they say "yeah, I know, right?" That one's my favorite "Totally Crazy Chick Fucking An Abusive Deadbeat With No Money And No Education" response, I think. That and the "oh, we don't have sex very much anyway." That's what Adrianne said when I asked her about her situation, after she broke up with her boyfriend and he hit her. She found out she was pregnant the next day.
A few of these girls (oh yeah, the pregnant ones) have serious substance-abuse issues. The whole business is completely fucking beyond me. I just don't get it. It'd be one thing if they were in good relationships, making plans for their lives, and happened to have a condom break or missed a pill. But that isn't what's going on here. It looks like total and wanton disregard for reality and consequences to me. Which is just bizarre, isn't it?
8 comments:
Uh, well, waiting tables sucks major ass. I hope your back is up for it. And yes - steal their onion rings/fries/whateverthatissimilar.
I work (well, worked) in a similar situation, with all these girls no older than me who are pregnant, coke whores, or complete sluts. These girls are easy. Not that I would know. I NEED TO TALK TO YOU.
I know the reason, but I just don't know what's going on. All I know is that I'm getting pretty fucked up (and not in the good way) b/c of it. I couldn't sleep last night and walked into my summer session final an hour and fifteen minutes late. I'm going home on Saturday afternoon, so let me know when you get off work/would be willing to call. Now that I'm done with class and work, I'll gladly stay up as long as I need to just to hear your voice.
I just got it, and thank you. I'll be around all today, so give me a call sometime. 7:30-9:00 your time won't be great (I'll be at church), but really any other time will work. I appreciate it.
In the far off and distant past, I worked at a red-neck kind of a restaurant in Virginia and one of the women showed up with a shiner one day. Being naiive, curious and somewhat concerned, (having never before in my life seen a woman with a black eye) I asked her what happened.
"Ran into a door," she smirked, without elaborating, and went right back to filling a glass with iced tea.
One of the other waitresses pulled me aside and explained that her old man had hit her. "Her Dad?!?", I gasped "No, (you sheltered little twat) her husband."
I later met the guy at her house after work one night. (Remind me again why I ever hung out with these people?)
He was just a little guy-- maybe 5'6", 145, hardly bigger than she was-- but wired a bit tight. And, of course, they had a kid.
There are 9 billion people on this planet becuase most of our species isn't at all put off by the idea of having a kid, or two, or ten. It gives them something to think about during their otherwise singularly debauched, debased, and/or drugged existences.
And one mustn't ever underestimate the power of whoremoans.
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