the kids don’t stand a chance.
July 9, 2008MY JOB IS RIDICULOUS.
i love it.
every night, i get at least…
-two men giving me their phone number. one of them is usually over the age of thirty five, and the other, under 20.
-3 notes written on napkins, receipts or dollar bills.
-4 comments on my bicept tat. half just ask if i’m irish and i assume that’s what they’re asking about.
-and half a dozen people i’ve gone to school with, worked with, or who recognized me from Rocket Donuts. townie, much?
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additionally, we kick someone out about….every third night.
and when you’re out, you’re out for life! suckaaaaahs.
and it’s a pretty good thing that i like my job right now, because….
everything else is bordering on too sad.
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tonight imma go out and get real drunk.
apparently, my boy from work also works the door at a really skeezing bros and hos bar up the street.
so i’m putting on my clubwear (HELLA) and drinking cocktails with stupid shit on the rims. GROSS.
….did i mention that zach is gone for a few days?
when i got up and realized it made me really sad.
hence, the tarting up and going out.
xoxo ME
Stand by for incoming texts in the next few days… I have little to do, and it occurs to me that I could probably train up sometime soon. Plus, you wouldn’t even have to take time off, ’cause I could just hang out at your weird work all night. And maybe come to class, or something. Dunno yet, just a possibility.
…it may be that I bring your Granny, too, but that hasn’t been discussed in any great detail…
Ooh, that’s a little sad