#4 and #4 1/2

I ran my first marathon on Monday.  It was painful, but I finished.  Even though it's not one of my 6 things I predicted would happen this year, it's a huge deal to me, so I think it deserves a spot at "4 1/2."  

Number 4 has happened.  I am officially a homeowner.  It's an amazing condo in the Valley, and it's huge and wonderful.  I never thought I'd be here at this point in my life.  Being a homeowner will make #5 quite easy.  What's #5?  Stay tuned!

What I learned when I was 5

When I was 5 years old, my older brothers, once again, tried to get me into trouble.  My dad came home from work every night at the exact same time, 5:30pm.  On this particular night, my brothers told me to tell my dad “fuck you” when he came home. 

“What does that mean?”

“It means you love him.”

Armed with this new-found word, I excitedly waited for my dad to come home.  When he opened the door at 5:30 pm, I happily yelled “FUCK YOU!”  He grabbed me, raced me upstairs, and put soap in my mouth.  I cried hysterically, told him what happened, and he grounded my brothers for a week. 

Lessons learned? 1. “Fuck you” doesn’t mean “I love you.”  2. Never trust my brothers.

Just had to tell you...

Uh. Muh. Guhd. You guys have got to hear about this. This isn't about my life, so I've been debating whether I should write about it or not. It's been making me smile from big ear to small ear all morning. (For those of you who don't know me, I have one regular sized ear, and one small one.)

My waiter-friend punched an unruly customer in the face. Apparently, the man was talking down to him, stiffed him on the tip, and continued to crush his soul as he walked out the door of the restaurant. My waiter-friend followed him outside and punched the a-hole customer in the face.

Normally, I don't condone violence. But if you've ever been a waiter, chances are, you've been treated horribly by a number of customers. I've been yelled at, snapped at, whistled at (summoning me, like I'm a dog), my arm grabbed as I've walked by, and have had my character questioned and stepped on by many people over the years. My waiter-friend deserves a medal. Cheers to you, waiter-friend!

Fancy

I used to work in a very fancy restaurant that was oftentimes rented out to fancy people for fancy parties. The other servers and I, while we passed out drinks and appetizers, realized that no one ever listened to what we said when we presented said drinks and apps. So, we started to change what we said to the fancy customers. Instead of “Pinot Grigio”, it was “Penis Grigio.” And instead of offering these meatballs that had a fancy name, I just walked around and said, “Balls? Balls? Balls?”, while I carried the tray of food. We changed other names, but I can’t remember them. I was drunk off of Penis Grigio for most of those fancy parties. Out of the thousands of people we served for those fancy parties, only ONE man noticed that I kept offering him balls. He smiled and winked at me. I want to find him and kiss him on his forehead. He is the only fancy person who heard what I said in the 2 fancy years I worked at that fancy restaurant.

#3, it all happened so fast.

I finally got my game show money last night. It was in the mail, like it was nothing special. Just an envelope hangin’ out with all the other envelopes. No one was home, so I took about 10 pics of it, and then about 5 pics of me and the check. Then I called my mom. She freaked out and wanted to know if I called the bank to let them know it was coming. “Ma, this isn’t like olden days where I have a personal relationship with my teller.” I call my mom "ma" when she frustrates me. I was sad that I was alone, I wanted to make a speech or something, and thank all of the people in my life who’ve helped me thus far in achieving my…um…game show dreams??? On the way to the ATM, I sang the theme song from “Me and My Girl”, but changed the words to, “Me and My Check.” Then I went home, did my laundry, and went to bed.

“And we’ll have love, laughter, be happy ever after. Me (tap solo) and my check.” (applause, curtain.)

The new job

One of my favorite parts of life is figuring out how to weasel out of my responsibilities. When I was in school, I showed up to a maximum of 4 out of the 5 days I was supposed to be there. I’d ditch, and I’d drive up to Los Angeles, and try and get into tapings of TV shows. Or, I’d go to Disneyland. When I was younger and didn’t have a car, you’d find me first purchasing a foot long Grinder at Mario’s Deli, and then playing “Paperboy” for hours at the local liquor store. As an adult, quite often, I would get a shift at my job covered, so I’d have a day off. On that day off, I’d either watch TV all day, go for a jog, meet a friend for margaritas at noon, or find myself aimlessly walking around the city I live in, looking for adventure. I’m haunted by the fact that there is a whole world out there and I’m missing it all. I have had a hard time living up to responsibilities because my mind is always wandering. I want to do what is fun, not what I’m supposed to do.

With my new job, I’m trying to shake that off. (Even though I’m currently writing this blog at work.) This is a job that requires a lot of work and takes a lot of time out of my schedule. It could be something that lasts, and gives me a bright future. And I haven’t let them down. I don’t plan on letting them down, either. I just need to get rid of the very loud child in my head that is screaming at me to call in sick.

#2 came and went

Well, #2 arrived.  Not #2 as in poop, that arrives quite often.  I'm talking about #2 as in the second thing I've been waiting for to happen this year.  What is it?  Well, after almost 14 years of waiting tables and bar-tending, I no longer work in a restaurant.  If you know me, or have ever gotten stuck in the restaurant world, you know what a big deal this is.

I was going to wait until I got my game show money to make an escape, but who knows when that'll happen.  So, I put feelers out to my friends that I was looking for a new job.  About a month ago, I was hired and now work for the casting company, Magical Elves.  The job is rad, but I may only think that because they've served me wine and cake two times in the past month for baby showers that they've thrown here.  But, seriously.  The job is great, the people are fantastic, and I have no complaints.  Except one.

I got the new job so quickly, that I didn't get a chance to have that "final hurrah" at my restaurant job.  I had a fantasy that on my last day, I'd get wasted, and start telling mean customers off, and stand on the bar and show every one my bare ass while I give them the finger.  

It's probably better things happened the way they did.  This way, people still think of me as a lady.