Why I Quit...

Holy moses filled poptarts I'm tired.  I've worked the last five straight shifts waitressing at the restaurant I used to work at (that's Friday night, Saturday double, Sunday double, in case you're counting) and I officially remember why I quit. They are very understaffed right now and I was happy to help out by covering a *few* shifts, but jeeeez it's just not fucking worth it. Before midnight tonight I hadn't been home since yesterday morning, hadn't showered since then, and felt like there were jackhammers affixed to my heels. I've been unable to resist the temptation of free pasta (fuck you, carbohydrates) and suffered the pain of a restaurant on a weekend in August. Pasta, slow, busy, slow, slow, slow, busy, salad, slow, busy, slow, bread, busy, olives, busy, walnuts, suicidal-busy, mimosa, bellini, mimosa, mimosa, espresso, slow, slow, slow, pasta. That's the play-by-play.

But also I should mention that I have the common sense of a ten year old hopped up on adderall, faced with a skateboard and a bonfire. That's to say that after a relatively (read: hugely) mundane social life of late, I picked last night to stay out all night. "Hold up," you say, "after a Friday night, Saturday brunch, and a Saturday night dinner shift you needed a drink!" Yes, yes captain I did. I did not, however, need to go meet a group of people at a bar, nor did I need to obsessively drink beer, nor have some rum, I definitely didn't need to agree to stay out and go to a rooftop party at 2:30 am, I most certainly didn't have to buy a 40 (class comes out my pores, Secret Powder Dry or not), nor did I have to finish it. And I definitely did not need to stop at the deli and buy my boyfriend a sandwich at 5 am. I did however, have to stay at work until midnight Saturday night, and I had to be back by 11 am Sunday to work my twelve hour shift.

Suffice it to say that I should A) already be sleeping B) have probably turned down that babysitting job tomorrow morning , and C) am not looking forward to the final shift I am covering, tomorrow night.

A

PS: I have a Proscuitto sandwich and three artichoke ravioli to have for breakfast tomorrow. Who likes pasta in the morning?