Level of Difficulty: 7
Level of Embarassment: 11
Ahhh, the first day of anything. What should I wear? Where do I park? Will someone show me where the copier is, the bathroom, and sit with me at lunch?
My outfit, a bit dated. Black running shorts from Target, old gray FBI t-shirt and sneaks that reached their peaks many moons ago. Parking was a breeze. The people were nice. I followed the herd to find the jump ropes and a nice girl showed me where the "weighted PVC pipe" was since the real bar with weights thingy was totally out of my league!
So no one laughed or snickered when I could barely lift the kettle bell much less swing it around, or that my squats were pitiful and I surprisingly couldn't even jump rope! I kept doing this jive skip-pity do dah muppet dance and as hard as I tried today my moves looked nothing like what should be played to the "Eye of the Tiger".
At 6:40 a.m. everyone put the jump ropes back (yeah, I knew right where to go!) and went their separate ways, so I wasn't left out of any plans to go get a protein shake somewhere up the road. The only plans I know of now is for me to return tomorrow and the next 5 weeks and pray by the end I can jump rope with both feet on the same rhythm.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Only "Talk Shows" on in the Bedroom
So, a person I admire very much spoke about how their bedroom is designed with two club chairs, a nice rug and lamp in one corner, and he made a point to say that they have no TV in there because this is where he and his wife sit and talk in the evenings. I remember thinking no way I would want to do this because well, I don't know why just because and please don't bring this insanity up again!
Only a few weeks later did the 50-inch-screen-TV in our bedroom break, forcing an under the covers DVR marathon hiatus. Maybe it was all the busy nights typical in December that made breaking the boob tube before bed habit so effortless. I really didn't miss it.
We did get the TV fixed within a month but in that time we started watching one show in the evenings in the living room with our bowl of ice cream and blanket; same fun, different room. After watching one show it would still be pretty early so then I could get my PJ's on and hubs and I could sit and talk about our days, our plans for tomorrow, or maybe get a chapter in on our current reads.
Having an uninterrupted conversation is pretty much impossible during the waking hours of our children so these days I've really come to enjoy all the talk shows on in our bedroom. The TV's love tank is a little low however, and worried it might end up on Craig's List!
Only a few weeks later did the 50-inch-screen-TV in our bedroom break, forcing an under the covers DVR marathon hiatus. Maybe it was all the busy nights typical in December that made breaking the boob tube before bed habit so effortless. I really didn't miss it.
We did get the TV fixed within a month but in that time we started watching one show in the evenings in the living room with our bowl of ice cream and blanket; same fun, different room. After watching one show it would still be pretty early so then I could get my PJ's on and hubs and I could sit and talk about our days, our plans for tomorrow, or maybe get a chapter in on our current reads.
Having an uninterrupted conversation is pretty much impossible during the waking hours of our children so these days I've really come to enjoy all the talk shows on in our bedroom. The TV's love tank is a little low however, and worried it might end up on Craig's List!
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Waitress! There's a Fly in my Soup...
I've been out of the restaurant biz for several years now, but I guess you never really get your head out of the game. Scenarios of waiting tables are still in my top three dream sequences, beating out the much more pleasant dreams of hanging backstage with a certain bandana-wearing rocker or the popular but unpleasant free-falling dream.
It's always the same theme in these bad tipping flashbacks. I'm in the weeds, I've been quadruple-sat with parties of 8, and some chick never gets her french fries. It is like I'm lost in a maze and I can't make it back to the kitchen or call for help. Not that anyone would help because even in reality your coworkers just laugh and point at you from the server station when you're overwhelmed and can't catch up.
Maybe I just cared too much. I wish I could have been more like (insert name of server who took cig breaks every ten minutes only to leave their entire section of diners waving their arms, shouting, grabbing anyone who walks by for a diet coke refill or the check). I think I'll try to get inside the control panel and the next time some chick in my dreams gives me lip about her order of fries, I'll hand her my apron and kindly say, "I don't give a flying fig about your fries cuz I DON'T WORK HERE ANYMORE!!"
It's always the same theme in these bad tipping flashbacks. I'm in the weeds, I've been quadruple-sat with parties of 8, and some chick never gets her french fries. It is like I'm lost in a maze and I can't make it back to the kitchen or call for help. Not that anyone would help because even in reality your coworkers just laugh and point at you from the server station when you're overwhelmed and can't catch up.
Maybe I just cared too much. I wish I could have been more like (insert name of server who took cig breaks every ten minutes only to leave their entire section of diners waving their arms, shouting, grabbing anyone who walks by for a diet coke refill or the check). I think I'll try to get inside the control panel and the next time some chick in my dreams gives me lip about her order of fries, I'll hand her my apron and kindly say, "I don't give a flying fig about your fries cuz I DON'T WORK HERE ANYMORE!!"
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Give Bald A Chance
I was talking with two of my girlfriends about where we met the majority of our dates and of course the number one answer is through work. Working in a popular night spot in your twenties you would think increases your visibility, and therefore your chances to meet a nice lad, but no that is not the case. Those kinds of stories we can tell on a different day.
My point today is that I was thinking about the story of my friend who worked in a restaurant and this nice guy with a great smile would come in to talk to her. Eventually he mustered the courage to ask her out and she said yes. She opens the door when he picks her up and whoa...he's bald! Not like The Rock kind of bald, but old man bald. Apparently he was always wearing a baseball hat and this was his first time sans dome coverage! It was such a let down that she barely got through the evening and his flowers and perfect gentleman behavior were lost on her.
So here's my question, what if he had just worn the hat on the first date? She may have really fallen for him on that night, with all the good vibes from the evening solidifying those expectations she had set by their previous pleasant encounters. Once you are smitten, the cat comes out of the bag, well I mean the hat comes off the head and maybe you're already locked in and seeing a future. That guy could have been the one!
On to my own trip down "what-if" lane...To the guy that wore argyle socks and ordered white wine, It's too bad I didn't give you a chance, but really I just think you were gay and didn't know it yet. But to the guy who wore really ugly sandals, I am sorry! I think we could have just thrown out the offending Jesus cruisers once we were a couple.
Ever thought about your own alternate realities?
My point today is that I was thinking about the story of my friend who worked in a restaurant and this nice guy with a great smile would come in to talk to her. Eventually he mustered the courage to ask her out and she said yes. She opens the door when he picks her up and whoa...he's bald! Not like The Rock kind of bald, but old man bald. Apparently he was always wearing a baseball hat and this was his first time sans dome coverage! It was such a let down that she barely got through the evening and his flowers and perfect gentleman behavior were lost on her.
So here's my question, what if he had just worn the hat on the first date? She may have really fallen for him on that night, with all the good vibes from the evening solidifying those expectations she had set by their previous pleasant encounters. Once you are smitten, the cat comes out of the bag, well I mean the hat comes off the head and maybe you're already locked in and seeing a future. That guy could have been the one!
On to my own trip down "what-if" lane...To the guy that wore argyle socks and ordered white wine, It's too bad I didn't give you a chance, but really I just think you were gay and didn't know it yet. But to the guy who wore really ugly sandals, I am sorry! I think we could have just thrown out the offending Jesus cruisers once we were a couple.
Ever thought about your own alternate realities?
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