Monday, January 28, 2013
Monday, September 6, 2010
I quit drinking...gin, tequila and rum. Just came back from Jamica and swore off it only because I almost drowned in it. The Mexican and me had a a civil breakup; it was hard at first but my stomach is thanking me now. I promised Gin we would be backtogether in a later life- when I'm old and decrepit.
Stopped buying drugs and started sleeping with my dealer. Much easier said than done.
Rented out my living room to some scrap trying to make it in the city.
Took the plunge, started panhandling on the streets with my puppet.
Used some advice from a pal and sold riddles and jokes for a $1. I made $3.
And now I'm wondering...have I changed at all or have I just outsourced the problem?
(Oh and THANKYOU Mayor Bloomberg for $13/pack cigs. You're really making the decision to quit for me)
Monday, March 8, 2010
Below are two takes on the greatest sandwich yet to be invented in 2010. Enjoy.
Jamon and prosciutto crisped together on flattop then topped with melted guerye and provolone cheeses and smothered with caramelized balsamic onions. Served on a toasted baguette.
The Fat Trixie
Jamon and prosciutto crisped together on flattop then topped with melted guerye and provolone cheeses and smothered with caramelized balsamic onions. Served on a opened face toasted baguette with a sunny side egg
Truffle dusted French Fries served with both.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Except that I got a black eye and regretted (still am) not going down to MIA for PHiSH with my boys.
I'm also still oh-so-broke. Why you ask? Thought I was going to get a job?
Psshh. I did. I got a job at one of the only remaining busy restaurants in Manhattan. Yeah, I'm that great of a waitress
Yet the training if a week long. Full day. NOT PAID. Yup...forty some odd hours for free. And they say nothing in the world is free...
Apparently my time is. And at such great timing, ya know with rent needing to be paid and ConEd not being my friends, then Cable wants their share and the Credit card....and well Health insurance lasped and now I'm so scared of getting hurt or sick that I've become a walking klutz hurting myself every possible way.
Today I (almost) fell down three stairs to catch the D train at Bryant Park but scrambled myself together not realizing I twisted my left ankle until it began throbbing between 7th ave and 59th street. I also jammed my big toe on the right foot and cut it (somehow).
It sucks to be a waitress, who's not being paid with sore feet.
Hopefully next week I'll make tips...
...but just in case, tomorrow I'm going to apply for food stamps and medicaid. Thankyou President Obama for making that possible.
On Side note. The Phish shows. My NYE sucked so hard that I almost cried- no, I did- when I receieved audios from the fourshows. MSG was amazing but AAA is one sick arena and it was New Years. The 10 anniveristy of Big Cypress (my first PHiSH show/festival) and I miss my friends. Espeically NPW. And Pretty Lady, my mom.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
I lie, kind of. I took a job on the complete other side of town days after my quasi-fire but it didn't work out. Why you ask? Because I am not the kind of person who can work at a bar inside a pizza shop that doesn't get anyone but tweens and random homeless people who watch the TV's from outside (in the snow). I spent approximately 150 hours there and made about that it tips. It was horrbile so I quit.
Since then I've been applying for jobs online (because theirs a blizzard out there) and working on my manuscript. Yes. I want to be an actual writer someday.
But for now, I will vent to you, the world wide web.
I'm completely and uttely unenthusiastic about finding a job. Only looking because I have to pay my rent and ConEd is not my friend. But I'm realizing that I don't really want to serve or bartend no more. Maybe manage? Stablility? So not sure.
My plan B...more like plan A is to win the lotto though. And I'm not going to lie, I'm doing well. I'm uplike fifteen dollars. Yeah, not much but it's something.
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Maybe Santa will bring me a Job. That I like. And I won't quit. And that will pay my bills. And get my mother off my back. That's all. Is that too much to ask?
Sincerly and Cheerfully yours,
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Not because of something I did. No. But because of the inadequate management running my now-past job. It doesn't matter that I have been at the restaurant longer than all the present managers.It doesn't matter that I am one of the slim the trainers for the so called NEW STAFF (more correctly known now as the REPLACEMENTS)
Most important, it apparently doesn't matter to consult the owner/chef in the decision as twenty minutes after I emptied my locker I was left a very concerned voicemail as to when I will be back.
When I will be back? Ugh, to get all pass due cash and paycheck, this week, maybe, why. I called her back. My chef was very concerned as she was not involved in the decision and offered me my job back, kind of. I respectfully said I would LOVE to work for HER but not for them and said we would speak in person later.
I got fired today
Because I wouldn't sign a piece of paper depicting (the managers depiction) of what happened during lunch shift. What happened? Easy. The managers sat a VVVVVIP (apparently) and never told me. Soon I figure out (bc i'm that good) and take care of everything, service to the Tee. Except I didn't know how VIP they were and dropped the check- a check that was already HEAVILY discounted. Without opening the checkbook the host of the party states "I'm not sure we're suppose to have a check...." Stunned at the audacity of some people I took the checkbook and said "I'm so sorry, let me go check on that." And walked away.
I then checked with Chef and confirmed they do not receive a check. I told Chef what I did and tried my hardest to rectify the situation...by going to the table and saying I made a mistake and that they were right and to have an amazing afternoon; they laughed and said its okay. They left a few minutes later, leaving $30 in cash on the table.
I went on break. Came back for dinner shift. Set the entire dinner shift up and then was asked to go into the managers office. Behind closed doors I was bombarded by two managers (who have the total experience at the restaurant of one month together) that I did not follow protocol and that I should know better and to top it off, that they had told me about the VIP and no check. Bullshit. God damn, fucken poppy cock. Liars.
I refused to sign the paper that said I knew not to drop the check. Manager, who I will now openly call DouchePack said "then I have no choice and this choice has not come lightly and this choice to let you go, its not my choice." Ugh, its totally your choice DouchePack.
Standing my ground I looked both him and the silent one who I couldn't really understand anyhow and said if I don't leave this room right now I will say things I will regret. Then I walked out, cleaned my locker out and left.
I'm now home, looking on Criagslist for jobs...loving the idea that I'm going to be off Thanksgiving and really not caring that I'm jobless is the worse economic time since the Depression. Hahaha...
Sunday, October 18, 2009
What the real kicker is that our chef is still out of town and Line Cook that is totally unprepared to be in charge had a panic attacked that turned into a full on seizure right at the beginning of Elderly Cooking 101. I, thinking it was one of the guests, gathered my group back up so that we could start boiling the rice. I didn’t realize it was Line Cook until our dish was already in its ice bath.
My server also decided not to show and my manager had a family emergency right after noon time. So after cooking with the elderlies I had to serve them the five course meal they prepared. And food-run it. And bus the table. In a chef assemble. I was hot, sweaty and smelled our old food by the end. And get this, only got $80. Was getting up at 6AM and it wad over at 4 PM worth it?
Oh. Then I had to work dinner where my eight-top and ten-top didn’t show and I had only three tables all night and got out at midnight.
It wasn’t even a two bill day.