What's funny about that old rhyme - "Liquor before beer, you're in the clear!" - is that anything you put in that first slot means you're in the clear. "Quaaludes before beer, you're in the clear!". Well, tonight I'm trying wine before beer, or perhaps wine before more wine. Either way, I'm probably getting drunk. I've got a ride, a reason, and a revelatory excuse with a friend's 30th birthday.
It's a music-themed party and we're all supposed to bring music to help my friend enter her third decade. It's a great idea. I started out purchasing (on I-Tunes) the song that was #1 on her birthdate - "You Make Me Feel Like Dancing" - as well as the song that was #1 on her 18th birthday ("Hero" by Mariah Carey) and the song that was #1 on her graduation date ("I Swear" by All 4 One) and then decided that, novelty and all, I didn't want to subject anyone to those horrible songs.
So, I've made a CD full of good hit songs from the mid-nineties ("Losing My Religion", "Sick of Myself", "Regulate") as well as a few songs that are plays on her name Rose (including a cover of Bette Midler's "The Rose" by Jonathan Richman), as well as a bunch of lesbian-themed songs (Catie Curtis, Indigo Girls, Melissa Ferrick, Tracy Chapman, Weezer's "Pink Triangle"), since, well, she's a lesbian. It's going to be a great night.
I've got reason to celebrate beyond the main one, too: I had a great shift at the restaurant today. It's amazing what 8 hours of sleep can do to my mental and physical health. It was dead for the first three hours, so I got tons of grading and reading done, and then I promptly made $120 in five hours.
The highlight of the day? Serving a woman holupki and apple cake on her 92nd birthday. The lowlight? One of the biggest assholes I've ever served, who left before his main course because he had decided he'd waited too long. His wait? His order went in at 2:03, his first course came out at 2:14, his first course was bussed at 2:21, I fired his second course at 2:22, and it came out at 2:38. And we were busy. I know all these times because we record every one of them on the ticket. Fifteen minutes is his limit, he said, and he "goes out to eat all the time." Bastard. McDonald's doesn't count. I almost got into an argument with him - I don't really care, he's never coming back anyway and I'm on my way out of the waiting tables life - but started to and held back. He said, "We've been waiting for over an hour," and I was able to prove to him that he hadn't been. He said, "I don't want to quibble over a few minutes." I wanted to not only quibble, but call him a snide asshole. I didn't thought. Still, no tip, of course. Didn't let it ruin my day, though, either!
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