Happy Days Are Here Again

I quit my job yesterday!! Yay!

Okay. Before you freak out...I got another job right before I quit. I walked down the street to see if a certain restaurant was hiring. Right after I filled-out my application, a girl came in and asked if they were hiring and took two applications. Talk about luck. I was hired on the spot and start training on Monday. I will say this...while I'm quite friendly and do everything I can to make sure my customers have a wonderful time I am sort of the Rachel Green of servers. I've been known to jolt upright in the middle of the night only to exclaim, "Oh my God. I forgot to take that guy extra dressing!" Oh well, hopefully my charm will make up for never refilling their drinks. (Totes kidding. Stop writing the hate mail.)

So, needless to say, today was my last day in hell; last day with The Debil. Woo hoo! When I quit yesterday it went surprisingly well. The Debil's husband was quite nice and wished me luck. The Debil didn't know until after I left and when I went in today she breathed her fiery breath and tricked me into telling her where I'll be working. Dammit. They're probably going to call and tell them horrid lies about me. I'm sure it will be okay. Restaurants are filled with the din of inappropriateness. Ever been in a restaurant kitchen? Not known for its modesty. If you're not being sexually harassed in a restaurant kitchen, you may want to look for a new job, or at the very least...not eat at work. Besides everyone knows: cute=flirting, ugly=sexual harassment.

And now I'm back to wearing all black. For God sake people!! This does not make you FANCY!! Why can't people just wear their own clothes? Be comfortable. Then you'll feel better and therefore be happier. Or perhaps a nice bright color like red? Or orange? Matching blacks is the bane of my existence. It is a pox on the world of fashion.

Well, that is my exciting news for the day. Oh, well there is one little PSA I would like to make to any men who might be reading this. Yesterday, baby and I were on our way to Mecca. I looked down at the car next to me as we were pulling through the light and saw the driver staring up at me. I politely ignored him, even though he looked like Adrian Grenier. He drove right next to me without passing me until we came to a stop at a traffic light. He yelled from his car, "Will you let me in there?" and pointed in front of my Jeep. I said, "Maybe." He smiled and said, "So, I guess that means you're not married." I didn't know what he was talking about and then realized he had been looking at my hand, since I had my arm hanging out the window which I normally don't like to do since some horrible person told me years ago about a boy who had his arm chopped off by someone wielding an ax in another car. I said, "No. I'm not married." He smiled and said, "Cool." I said, "It means I was giving you the finger." He laughed, pulled in front of me and waved. And drove on as I turned. Not that I would've dated this guy, but this has actually happened to me before and even though I appreciate the little ego boost...um WHO CAN MEET PEOPLE IF YOU'RE DRIVING 50 MILES PER HOUR? Dumbass.