My Random Blog

Tonight I had the joy of waiting on the most ridiculous woman I’ve seen in a while. And being that I’m fighting off a cold, I wasn’t able to put on my shiny face and hide my disdain for her. Not that she was smart enough to know what my problem was with her anyway.

Seated at a booth with her husband, she proceeded to stretch out her nasty, bare legs across the bench seat and sit with her back to the wall. A grown ass woman in a sit-down restaurant. Then she hopped on her cell phone and never stopped yapping into it. Not even when her food was in front of her. Her poor husband just sat there staring at his plate and eating quietly, like he was alone at the table.

How fucking low class can a person be? Restaurants are NOT your living rooms, people. Putting your feet up and blabbing into your phone is not acceptable restaurant behavior. If you don’t know this, you need to stick to drive-throughs and taco stands.

Peace and READ THIS.

P.S. This is my 100th post.

What the hell is going on with the lips of celebrities? More importantly- where the hell are the FRIENDS of these women, to tell them how fucking ridiculous they look?

This started getting on my nerves with Lara Flynn Boyle. I’ve gotten used to the fact that someone needs to tie her down and shove carbs up her ass, but when I saw her on the show “Las Vegas” with those over-inflated lips, I couldn’t stand to watch anymore. I cannot stand to watch anything with her in it. She’s way too small to have lips that big stuck to her.

The next time I was offended by a pair of face eaters was when I tuned into Boston Legal and got a load of Delta Burke’s face. What the hell happened to it? It, literally, took me almost the entire episode to realize who she even was! Is there really no one in her life who likes her enough to stage a plastic surgery intervention? Has no one taken a lesson from Joan Rivers? I can totally understand not wanting to be wrinkly and old, but come on. When you start looking like an alien version of yourself- it’s time to get some help.

I never thought I’d see this madness on Courney Cox. I guess no one is immune to the brain warping of Hollywood. She has not only done damage to her otherwise beautiful face by going overboard with the fat lip craze, she now sounds like she’s drunk when she speaks. Her lips just kind of sit there while her jaw moves around.

Last but not least… The woman who made this whole post possible… Last night, while watching Ghost Whisperer, I was visually assaulted by the “lips” of the once beautiful Nikki Cox. It was so distracting, not to mention repulsive, that I could not even tell you what the story was even about. I just kept wondering over and over again, how the hell Jay Moher LOOKS at her every day and doesn’t either laugh or cry?

The whole practice is just insane. Tweaking your face until you look like a cartoon character just doesn’t make sense to me. And how sad it must be to have no one in your life that will be honest with you. I can guarantee that if I showed up somewhere with lips twice the size of my head, my girlfriends would not hesitate to tell me to knock that shit off, AFTER they picked themselves up off the floor from laughing.

Peace and the lips God gave you.

So I waited on some asshole tonight who pissed me off to the point where I came THISCLOSE to hitting him in his face with his menu. As I took it from him, I lifted it right past his face and over his head- as I rolled my eyes in plain view of his friends. Why? You ask… Because he was a fucking douche.

Here’s my thing: As a patron in the restaurant where I work, I am your server. I am not, however, your BITCH. I choose to be a server. I have the schedule that I want and I make good money. I love working with the public; I’m good at it. If you’ve read my blog before, you know that I can be quite witty. (HA!) I am also very friendly and outgoing… in real life. I love meeting and interacting with new people. I want your experience with me to be fun and memorable. I was a bartender for MANY years- which I loved, but grew tired of… So now I’m a “server”. And while I still have the love for the job… my love for assholes has grown thin.

It’s par for the course to entertain an asshole or two; I’m used to that. But tonight’s douche pissed me off to the point where the Mexican/Apache Indian in me could not be held back. I was so pissed off by the way he spoke to me that I had to involve a manger in transferring him to another server. He (manager) ok’d it with a quickness because he’s seen me in rare form, and knew that it was the best thing to do- considering how pissed off I was. While I like to think of myself as an educated, public-friendly individual… I have been known to be quite violent when it comes to people who upset me enough. And I am proud to say that in 18 years in the restaurant/bar business, I’ve only physically injured one patron. (The rest were on my time.)

So the new server, Jenn, took over and Douche was just as rude to her. He even asked her if she was “nicer than the last one”. (Yeah- he meant ME.) And even went as far as to “inform” her that he could have both our jobs. Yeah…. He actually said that. As if it were true. It wasn’t. The only way he could pull that off is if he bought the company. Good luck asshole. It’s world-wide. And I rock at what I do.

That was my night. Completely kick-ass fabulous until I met Mr. King Douche Bag. Who is very lucky that I transferred him before I punched him in the throat and ended his love affair with oxygen. I hate to advocate violence- but being what I am made of… it’s in my genes. And I’ve NEVER been afraid to use it. But on another note…

I own my super cute car, carry one of several gorgeous Coach bags (I also have a killer Prada), wear designer clothes, have an iPhone, and and am capable of hacking you and your computer with just a few keystrokes….

I’m not beneith you because I am your server. I am probably smarter and better dressed than you, outside of my job. (If you’re an asshole.)

I will do everything I can to make your experience fabulous. I want you to be happy. I want you to come back. But if you disrespect me, I will not tolerate it. I’m no one’s bitch. Perhaps there are some 20 year old white girls who will put up with your shit, but this 34 year old Mexican will not.

I just hope I see him out somewhere… so that I can give him a new respect for the people who wait on him. He pissed me off that much.

P.S. If you’re a 20-something white girl… don’t hate-mail me. I’m just sayin’.

Peace and RESPECT YOUR SERVERS!

Edit: I just read this again and it made me cringe a little so I’d like to offer this piece of advice (and insight, interestingly enough): Don’t blog when you’re mad and full of beer. That is all.

It used to be that I’d log on to my online account and be welcomed by annoying chain emails. Remember those? Pass this on to X amount of people or you’ll have X amount of years of bad luck? Who ever started those sucks. It got to the point where I was forced to issue cease and desist emails to everyone in my address book just to make it stop. And they have, mercifully, stopped. The only forwarded stuff I get now is fun stuff. No more chain emails. Hooray!

But, alas, this annoying-as-hell trend has moved to my cell phone in the form of text messages. Today I woke up to this product of genius (exactly as written):

Fwd:Fwd:A cat falls in a pool, a rooster laughs. Moral of the story: a wet pussy makes a cock happy. Send to 8 people or have BAD SEX FOR LIFE!

I am not kidding. How f&%$ing STUPID is that?? What complete and total jackass created that and then decided that other people wanted to be on the receiving end of it? Now this doesn’t annoy the shit out of me simply because the whole practice of it is idiotic. It also annoys the shit out of me because I do not have unlimited text messaging. I have a certain amount allotted to me every month and when I go over that amount, I am charged per message. Since I hate talking on the phone- I text quite a bit. So when my messages are being wasted by crap- it kind of pisses me off.

So here is my plea to those who are in possession of my cell phone number: PLEASE stop forwarding me crap. No more gross photos (I am a woman and I know what a female body looks like- I don’t need extreme close-ups), no more “pass this on” or “forward this”, no more little joke messages, etc. We are not in high school. Those messages aren’t cute or funny, they are annoying. I hated that crap in my email inbox and I hate it more on my cell phone. So knock it off. Thank You.

Peace and legitimate text messages.

• My mom’s name is Georgia. Just like the state. I can’t even wrap my brain around the number of people who mangle her name. She has mail addressed to Georgian, Gorgianna, and my personal favorite: Joorja. Seriously. Her car is even registered to GLORIA, thanks to the super smart car salesman who handled her paperwork.

Mom’s name, although not a ridiculously common name, is still a common WORD; it’s a STATE in our country for God’s sake. Do these same idiots also misspell and mispronounce it in that context? Do they say things like “Atlanta, Gloria”? Or “Ganesville, Gorgianna”? In this day and age of names with few to no vowels and 10-15 letters in length, I get that things can get a bit hairy in the name department. But when your name is also a state in the U.S., it’s stops being rocket science, and misspelling and mispronouncing it just makes you look like the moron you are.

• Last night I was watching this little concert by Garth Brooks on tv. (It squeezed in nicely between Ghost Whisperer and Numbers.) And during his first song, there was this woman in the audience right in front of him, at his feet. She knew every single word to that song. Know how I know? Because I could hear that bitch yelling every single word to that song. It was SO annoying. I can’t even tell you what song it was because I was so distracted by that woman yelling it along with Garth. I love Garth Brooks, I can’t think of one song he’s ever come out with that I didn’t like, and him in concert is so much fun to see. I was annoyed that my tv concert enjoyment was tarnished by someone who couldn’t just sing along, but instead, YELLED out every word. I found myself trying to mentally move him to another part of the stage, in SPITE of the fact it had been previously recorded.

• When, exactly, did blabbing into one’s cell phone, no matter where you are, become socially acceptable? I was reading Dear Abby yesterday and someone had written in about being in retail, and not being able to provide proper service due to people being on their cell phones for the duration of their visit to his store. He also mentioned being yelled at or ignored while trying to do his job because he was interrupting their conversations. Being in the service industry myself- I can relate. It never ceases to amaze me how people want good service, and complain that they aren’t receiving it, without ever thinking that it’s damn near impossible to do that when dealing with someone who won’t get off of their phone for 5 minutes. It’s RUDE, disrespectful, arrogant and unnecessary. If it were an emergency- I doubt they’d be out shopping or hanging out in a restaurant in the first place.

As for me, I refuse to deal with it. It is my job to provide you with service. It is not my job to stand there and wait for you to finish your conversation about Becky’s botched boob-job, or the fungus you found between your toes. When I see a customer blabbing into a cell phone- I stay away until they are done. I also, do not do this myself. Ever. (Nor do I yap on my phone while I am driving.) Cell phone’s are wonderful things and I love mine very much. However, I don’t love it more than I do giving the people around me the respect and attention they deserve. If I’m out with friends, or in a store with a salesperson trying to assist me, I am not on my phone. If I need to tell someone something at that very moment- I send a quick (and quiet) text message. If someone calls me during a meal, I don’t answer it. If it’s important, they will leave me a message that I can excuse myself to go and listen to, and return the call if necessary.

I don’t let my cell phone make an ass out of me. Please, people, don’t let it make asses of you either. This has been a Public Service Announcement from Cranky McBitchypants.

So I was just on MySpace, reading through the thousands of bulletins that my friends post each day and noticed something I see a lot of, that bugs me down to my toes: The passing on of the bullshit. It’s been going on since the beginning of the Internet and used to take up space in my email Inbox. Now, it’s all over social networking sites. Sometimes I’ve sent out corrective bulletins and sometimes I’ve just messaged the offenders and laughed at them for being so gullible. But sometimes it can be a disservice to pass on B.S. That is what this rant is about…

Today’s B.S. was in the form of a long and detailed story about a tragedy of some kind that could have been avoided, had the victim known to dial “*77″ from her cell phone. (Originally circulated as “#77″.) Supposedly, dialing *77 into your phone and hitting the “send” key will immediately connect you to your local Highway Patrol, State Troopers, or what have you. The story ends with the obligatory “Send this to every woman you know! It may save a life!”Really? No. Not really.

The think that irks me the most about these repeatedly forwarded bulletins of bullshit is that not ONE person even bothers to see if it’s even true or not. (Which is particularly irritating, considering this story has been circulating since 2002!) Well, this gem of an “informational” bulletin was NOT true. And it could, sometimes, be very dangerous to pass on inaccurate information.

If, God forbid, one of my friends were in a perilous situation and remembered the MySpace bulletin she’d read that told her to dial *77 from her phone- she would be very disappointed to learn that doing that was pointless. And if she did that instead of just dialing 911, like any smart person would do if they are in immediate danger, she could very well be hurt or killed.

First of all, the correct way to key that in is with a pound (#) sign before the number 77, NOT an asterisk (*). Secondly, some states support that, some do NOT (they have different codes) and some don’t have that option available at all. Saying that an immediate link to help is in the form of a “universal” code is careless and potentially dangerous.

Here’s a tip, future bulletin (or email) forwarders: If you’re about to pass on information that you think is helpful, take 2 minutes out of your day to check it out first. You can do this by visiting Urban Legends Reference Pages (Snopes.com). Type a few keywords in their search engine and voilà! You can instantly see if what you are about to pass on is true, helpful information, or B.S. that should have stopped making it’s rounds years ago.

PLEASE. And thank you. I would hate for someone to get hurt because of someone else’s laziness.