Well, shit. It's been months and months since I last posted, and let me just give you a li'l update on where I'm at: I've been working at The Bar for, oh, four months or so. I quit my job at the Greek restaurant after, like, two weeks because almost everything about it sucked except for the free meals at the end of every shift and my awesome coworkers. I'm cooking and cocktailing at The Bar now -- mostly cocktailing, thanks be to God, because cooking is way less glamorous than cocktailing and apparently I like to be glamorous now. Now my life revolves around conning people into taking shots of Don Julio Anejo for like nine bucks (which, by the way, I think is a stupid idea because it's a sipping tequila, you guys, if you can even stand to sip it. And for nine bones, you may as well acquire the taste) and sassing the crap out of everybody. I've pretty much decided to take this blog, like my life, in the restaurant-industry direction, because my job, unlike my life, is actually pretty interesting.
So tonight Kai* (bartender), Dani* (cocktail waitress) and I are all dressing up for Halloween, because it's the only night where we're all working together. I had this idea where I was gonna be the Beer Fairy, which was really just this half-cocked Generic Slutty Fairy costume involving children's wings and silver lamé, but then I got to American Apparel to pick up the halter bodysuit (shut up, I know) that I was going to wear and I tried it on just for gigglies and it looked horrible. Not in an "if I lost some weight, it would look fantastic" kind of way, but in a "Sweet fancy Jesus, my tits look deformed" way. Because American Apparel just doesn't make stuff for girls with big chichis. Whatever, that's their deal--although I'm a little surprised that their allegedly sleazy CEO doesn't encourage the big-tittied hipster ladies to shop at his store--and I will continue to shop there while I labor under the delusion that I could ever, ever minimize these beasts. Anyway anyway. I ditched the lamé, and then I ditched the costume entirely. Now I guess I'm an athletic something-or-other, which means gym shorts, a tank top, a whistle, knee-high athletic socks, and Chucks. Cool.
I have two major reservations about wearing this getup to work, though.
First, the whistle: I have worked in a bar for long enough to know that if there is something on your person that is fuck-with-able, a drunk person will try to fuck with it. I generally wear pretty large hoop earrings to work, and I can't get through a Friday or Saturday night without some drunk dumbass trying to mess with my ice. It's annoying, but not nearly as annoying as drunks messing with my whistles could potentially be. So I may have to ditch it halfway through the night if it becomes too much of a problem.
Second, the shorts: They are, as the name implies, short. I typically do not wear shorts, because I've got thick ol' thighs, and I'm kind of self-conscious about them. They're actually pretty nice-looking, because the great thing about running drinks all day long is that your legs get very strong and very toned, fast, but they used to be kind of flabby and unattractive. And they still jiggle. Y'all, I don't want to look sexy when I'm standing still but be jiggling all over the damn bar when I'm moving around. Whatever, I guess. I'll have a pair of jeans on standby if I get too weirded out.
*names have been changed to protect the innocent
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