A View from the Window.

I feel like I’m a character in Rear Window when I’m sitting at my computer.  Because of space constraints and logistical issues, my desktop has landed in the guest room right in front of the window.  It’s a large window that looks out on the courtyard where the garbage cans are kept as well as the grassy area next door.  When it’s light outside, especially at dusk, it looks like a set from a movie.  There are fire escapes, glows from the windows that are set into large brick apartment buildings.  It’s both peaceful and disconcerting all at the same time.  At night it’s very different.  When the lights are on in the bedroom I can only see the courtyard below lit by the amber security lights.  Unless a light is on in a window across the way I look out into darkness.  Most of the time I don’t think about it.  But some nights, like tonight, I realize that out there, in the twenty or so apartments that I can see, someone could be watching me.  I don’t think this in the narcissistic sort of aren’t they lucky to be able to see me way.  More in the “this is kind of creepy” sort of way.  When I stop and think about it, sometimes I have to get up and walk away to get rid of the weird feeling.  Of course there are times when I’m the one doing the watching.  I’m sitting at my computer working and a light pops on across the way.  Try as I might to not look I find that I’m not able.  Of course I probably wouldn’t mind if the neighbor across the way was “hot”.  He is gay.  He’s just not hot.  Well not to me anyway.  Even if he was, I wouldn’t write that because I’d come home tomorrow and Adam would have moved my computer into the living room away from the window.  So I should probably be grateful for that.  I’ll have Adam take pictures sometime of the view.  It would be nice to post them.

Maddog’s Weekend.

So let’s see.

Last weekend.

Desperate Housewives.

Dreamgirls.

Precious.

Love, Loss, and What I Wore.

It was an all female weekend for Adam and me.

As I mentioned I was sick all last week and didn’t work.

Since I’d already given away my Friday shift, when Adam called and said he’d gotten tickets to see Dreamgirls…at the Apollo.  I suddenly felt better.  I’ve been singing the music since it first opened on Broadway.  I can do a mean “I’m Not Going”.  I saw the movie opening day and loved it, although there were something musically from the play that I missed.  But I’ve never seen the show live.  So to not only see the new production of it, but to see it at the Apollo where the play starts and ends was amazing.  Suddenly I found that I wasn’t as sick as I thought I was.

The show was awesome.  (That’s become my word of choice lately.  Awesome!)  Okay the book has some problems.  And the cast is a little weak in the beginning when the “drama” hasn’t started yet.   Musically the cast was incredible.  They were clearly better singers than actors.  By the time we were 20 minutes in, I was smitten.  I love when a woman stands down center and belts a song.  I think if the actor can sell it there is very little else in the theater that has that power.  Effie had that power.  When the set pulled a way and we were left with just her downstage in a single spot belting I’m not going I got goosebumps.  It’s one of the few times I’ve seen people on their feet during a show when it wasn’t curtain call.  The rest of the show was just as wonderful.

My absolute favorite part of the show was during one of the big numbers the wall of lights on each side of the stage, pivoted on stage and then pushed down just behind the girl singing.  It was about 150 lights and the effect was “awesome.”  I was still talking about it on Sunday.  That being said, the design of the show is great.  The sets, costumes and lights were great to see.  It was definitely my cure for the common cold.

Saturday was chore day.  We still had a ton of work to do on the apartment and we wanted it all done by the end of the weekend.  It’s done by the way.  So we cleaned, move things around, and then late in the afternoon we called a car service and had them send over a SUV.  We loaded it up with everything that would fit and had them take us to our storage place which is about three blocks from where we live.  We unloaded everything, got it upstairs and took about an hour getting it all to fit.  When we go back to get our Xmas stuff I’ll take a picture.  It took some work but it’s all in there.  We tossed the last thing in, and slammed the door.

We ended the day on the couch, eating take out and watching about three episodes of Desperate Housewives from the past couple of weeks.  Adam told me a couple of weeks ago that I’m Tom from that show.  I think he meant it as a compliment but I’m still not sure.

Sunday was our busy day out.

We had brunch with Adam’s friend John.

Then we were off to the movies.

Run.  Don’t.  Walk.  To see Precious.  It’s AWESOME!!!!!   Let me repeat that.  AWESOME!!!!!  Yes, it’s a little heavy.  And Depressing.  And you’ll need four BOXES of tissues but you’ll also know when you leave that you’ve experienced something.  It’s a you’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll bawl film.  And Precious, Gabby Sidibe is insane.  It’s hard to believe that someone who’d never been in front of a camera before could pull off such a performance.  You’ll definitely hear about this film come Oscar time.  For me the movie was emotional because several of the characters come just a little too close to home for me.  That’s an entirely different post but something I’ll have to think about sharing.

After the movie, we ran to the theater to see Love, Loss, and What I Wore.  It’s a show based on a book of drawings done by a women documenting the clothes she wore throughout her life.  The play is performed by five actors all on book who tell the stories of women and their clothes.  As in the world of The Vagina Monologues, the cast is revolving, so it’s a different set of five actors every week.  We got Mary Birdsong, Tyne Daly, Lisa Joyce, Jane Lynch, and Mary Louise Wilson.  Adam sought out tickets because he wanted to see Jane Lynch.  Anyone out there in Glee land knows that Jane Lynch plays Sue.  She was good.  I’d have to say Tyne Daly stole the show.  She has very expressive face and there were many times that she had the audience laughing just by raising one eyebrow.  The show is meant for women.  The audience was composed of women and gay men.  We actually heard one woman leaving the theater talking about how surprised she was to see so many men in the audience.  IT’S BECAUSE THEY ARE GAY AND GAY MEN LOVE WOMEN’S CLOTHES.  This show too has it’s faults.  It’s a little heavy handed at times and the last monologue was a little too “serious” for the show.  It was meant to make the show have some umf to it.  It didn’t help.  I had a great time.  I think Adam was bored.  I wouldn’t run out and see it again, unless of course we went the night Samantha Bee and Kristin Chenowith are in.  I might be convinced to see it that night.

And that’s up through last Sunday night.

I’m sleepy, so I’m going to hit publish and go to bed.  I apologize in advance for typos, verb/subject agreement problems, spelling, or anything that might indicate that I’m stupid or on drugs.

 

 

Maddog’s return…

It’s been while.

When last we talked I’d flown home because my Aunt Doo was sick.  My family was pissing me off, and I was miserable as I’m wont to be when I’m at home.

Since then.

My aunt was released the next day.  We still don’t know what happened, or why she had the seizures she had.  We are still amazed that the hospital released her.  Actually everyone we’ve talked to in the medical profession is amazed that she was released without any idea what caused the problem in the first place.

I think several members of my family are still mad at me.  Seems I was inappropriate in my remarks toward them, despite the fact that they seemed to have only come to the hospital to talk about her.  I still think the time to make life changing decisions that are not your decisions to make are not when the person is in the hospital.  If you are so concerned then help her make the choice now.  Don’t wait till she’s practically unconscious to do so.

On Saturday night my mother cried saying that I’d been mean to her, and that I’d hurt her feelings.  I did the right thing and apologized but I’m not sure I meant it.  My favorite part was when my mother said, “Just don’t expect me to help next time.  Next time I won’t even go to the hospital.  You people are on your own.”

I love my family.

And so I got up Saturday LATE afternoon after being up for more than 24 hours.  I actually got up at 8:00 to find out that my aunt had already been sent home and so decided to go back to bed.  I got up around 4:00, grabbed a Diet Coke and sat in the kitchen talking to my mom.  She had a bowl of Halloween candy sitting on the table and I picked up a tootsie roll and popped it into my mouth.  I chewed two times and promptly pulled a filling and half my tooth out of my jaw.

FUCK!!!

Luckily it didn’t hurt but I figured it was only a matter of time till it would start to hurt.

This did however supply me with a good excuse to go home early.  So on Sunday morning I got up and told my mom that I really needed to get home so I could get to my dentist before the tooth started to hurt and I had to see someone in an emergency situation.  I’d of course already made the plans before I ever told her about it.  It was going to cost almost 75 dollars more to change my flight than the original flight cost in the first place.  It was only going to cost 100 dollars to drive home.  So I went to the airport picked up a car, went to my aunt’s house picked her up and took her to lunch as I’d promised and at 3:00 pulled on to the interstate to drive home.

I got home around 3:30 a.m.

Thank god.

Of course about 30 minutes into the trip I could feel my throat start to get scratchy.  By the time I got home I didn’t have much of a voice.  I was holding out hope that it wasn’t anything serious.

On Monday I got up early and called the dentist.  They could see me on Tuesday.

I woke up Tuesday and felt like shit.  Absolute shit.  I called the dentist to see if I should cancel.  I was told, “They wear masks, just come on in.”

So I did.  It took about 15 minutes to have a temporary filling put in.  And then I was told, YOU ARE GOING TO NEED A ROOT CANAL.  FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.

I made the appointment.  I didn’t even ask how much it was going to cost.  I just did it.  My appointment was for Friday.

And then I went home.  I’d been home about two minutes when I got a text from my friend Nick at work wanting to know where the fuck I was.  They were saying that I was a “no call/no show”.

FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.

I called work.  Seems that although I called work on Thursday night/Friday morning at 4:00 about ten minutes after I booked the flight and left a message saying that I wouldn’t be back to work till Wednesday and that I’d called again Friday morning from the airport and actually spoken to a manager, NO ONE had been told I wouldn’t be there.  Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.   I wasn’t in trouble.  I was just pissed.

My throat was still feeling scratchy and I was still hoping for the best.

The best didn’t happen to be in my stars.

On Wednesday I woke up sick.   Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.

I got my shift covered, made myself comfortable on the couch and I lived there.

I did the same on Thursday.

On Friday I still felt like shit but I was supposed to start my root canal and they said they could do it even if I was sick.  So I trudged downtown to the dentist office.  I arrived ten minutes before my appointment, at 11:00.  At 11:30 they come out to tell me they won’t be able to see me until later that afternoon because they had an emergency.  I said FUCK fine and left.  It took about three minutes for me to realize that I wasn’t going to wait downtown as badly as I felt.  So I came home.   I called the dentist and told them that I wouldn’t be in on after all but they could see me on Monday.  I was told there were no appointments available on Monday and I said that’s okay call your 11:00 and tell them they can’t be seen until 1:30 and I’ll see you at 11:00.  They didn’t find me funny.  I was a little curt and short, but I was pissed, sick and I just wanted the fucking thing over with.  I was finally told there were sorry but they couldn’t see me on Monday.  I hung up without having another appointment.  Just as I was getting comfortable on the couch the phone rang and it was the dentist.  Seems they did have an opening on Monday.  Fuck you receptionist lady at the dentist office.

That gets you up through last Friday.  There’s more to tell as always, but it’s 4:18 and I’m sleepy and have a boyfriend keeping my side of the bed warm.

Day One — Kentucky

Got to Kentucky in one piece.  Tired.  But in one piece.  The last leg of the flight was not a prop plane all was good.

Got to the hospital.  My aunt looks awful.  Awful. 

But.

She almost jumped out of the bed when she saw me.  No one had told her I was coming.  I planted myself at the bottom of her bed and I stayed there most of the day.  She’s alert and aware.  But she’s very disoriented.  Sometimes she knows she’s at the hospital.  Then she’ll ask you who moved the furniture in the living room.  She became focused on a box of gloves today insisting that it was a doll in a box.  Even when we took the box to her she still didn’t quite comprehend what we were saying.  This all got worse as the day went on and she became more and more tired.

We still don’t know what’s going on.  They first thought it was a stroke.  Then just seizures.  Then big time seizures.  Now they just don’t know.  She was ho0ked up to all sorts of machines today.  Tomorrow morning they are doing a MRI of her head.  Hopefully by midday we’ll have been told something.  In the meantime just keep her in your thoughts.

And for the crappy part of the story.

I HATE MY FAMILY.

I HATE MY FAMILY.

I HATE MY FAMILY.

They were mean to her today.  They talked about her while she was in the room listening.  They had an entire conversation about the power of attorney of both my aunt and uncle while she was in the room.  Of course they were whispering which made it okay in their eyes, all the while my aunt is there trying to figure out what they are saying about her.  When ever she was disoriented, instead of gently leading her back to where she was, my mom would yell at her.  I’ve already told you.  YOU ARE IN THE HOSPITAL.  NOT AT HOME!!!!  Ugh.   One of my aunt’s went to a nurse and told them that part of my aunt’s problem was the stress of taking care of someone with advance Parkinson’s Disease.  She then suggested to the nurse that the process be started to put my uncle in a home.  The way they started the process was to go to my Aunt Doo and repeat all of this.  The same aunt went to the nurses again and told them they should not let Doo’s son Tommy in the hospital.  That he’d been known to cause problems.  (Tommy is slow.  He’s never been officially diagnosed with anything just he’s just not all there.  That being said he’s very sweet and means well.  And at least he has a job that he goes to every day unlike my noisy aunt’s children).   So my Aunt Doo got wind of this conversation, fixated on it, and developed the scenario that if Tommy came to the hospital he’d be arrested.  So she spent the whole day worring about this. 

I pulled my mom aside and told her to stop talking about my aunt when she’s in the room with her, and to stop being mean to her and now my mom’s mad at me.  I also voiced my displeasure to my mom about the noisy aunt.  And what does my mom do?  She confronts the aunt and tells her what I’ve said.  So now we have my mom and  her sister, my two cousins and shit load of other people mad.  Mostly at me. 

Meanwhile, while they are in the waiting room airing all of this dirty laundry for all to hear, I’m in my aunt’s hospital room chatting with her.  Trying to get her to calm down and go to sleep.  The thing that struck me at one point was that my aunt’s illness was no longer about her.  It was all about the other 64 personalities in the room.  

I finally told them all that it didn’t matter what happened to Uncle Tom.  That it didn’t matter how Tommy behaved when he came to visit.  No one gives a shit about power of attorney.  The most important issue in the room that no one seems to be aware of, is getting her well.  None of the rest of this shit means squat if we don’t find out what’s going on and get it fixed.

I’m still mad.

They are still mad.

I have four more days of this.

Fuck!

An Unexpected Trip…

It’s 4:52 a.m.

I’m about to jump in the shower.

To go to the airport.

To fly to Kentucky.

When I got off work tonight, I followed my usual routine.  I bought a Diet Coke, walked to the subway, found a seat and took out my book.  I usually check my voice mail on the way to the train, but tonight I was late and I was afraid I’d miss the 1:40 train.  When I was comfortably planted in a seat, I pulled out my phone to see if I had messages, both text and voice.  The phone said I had four text messages and six voice mails.  What was even weirder was the last call was from my mom at 12:55 a.m.

I debated leaving the station to check my messages to find out what was wrong.  I finally decided that whatever it was could wait till I got home.  I had to go home no matter what the situation.

When I got off the train and was waiting for the shuttle bus (it’s an “A” train thing) I checked my messages.  My cousin Vicki was one of the calls but she didn’t say what she wanted.  She never calls so I had no idea what that was about.  Finally I get to my mom’s message and it just says to call her as soon as I get the message.

So I call.

And it’s my Aunt Doo.

My favorite aunt.

She had been rushed to the hospital tonight.  At first they though she’d had a stroke.  They still haven’t ruled this out.  Then she started having seizures.  As of right now they have no idea what is wrong with her.  My mother said she looked awful.  She did say that she was awake and aware of her surroundings.  She’s also being a little cantankerous, which is probably a good thing.

I talked to my mom for 30 minutes or so.

Mostly I listened.

My mom is a worrier.  A BIG worrier.  So it’s hard to know how things really are.

My mom said that she kept asking if I’d been called.

The thing is that she’s been my favorite aunt for forever.  I’m one of the few family members who goes out of the way to see her on a regular basis.  I live in NYC and I see her more than most of my family.

I also know that if something happened to her and I hadn’t tried to get home, I’d never forgive myself.

So I got home, woke Adam and told him what was going on.

He was a dear.  He got up and helped me find a flight on line.  Helped me pack.  Made sure I had everything I needed.

And so now I’m waiting to get in the shower.  The car is picking me up at 5:30 to take me to the airport.  My flight is at 8:00.  I fly to Charlotte and then to Lexington.  The flight from Charlotte scares me.  I have this horrible fear that it’s a prop plane.  I’ve always sworn I’d never fly in a prop plane again.  I HATE them.  HATE.  HATE.  HATE them.  Keep your fingers crossed that it’s not.

I get to Lexington around 11:30.  I’ll be there till Tuesday.  I picked a random date.  I may try and come home early if everything turns out to be okay.

In the meantime keep my Aunt Doo in your thoughts.

I’ll let you know tomorrow night how she is doing.

 

Wednesday Night…

My headache is mostly gone.

Mostly.

It had quadrupled in size by around 4:45 tonight.  I was sitting in pre-shift thinking that I might just have to go home.  By 5:15 it was insane.  I was dizzy, nauseous and feeling like crap.  I finally  took one of the pills that my doctor has prescribed and about 90 minutes later it lifted.  Up to that point though I thought I was going to scream.   I’m still not 100% but I’m hoping that a good night’s sleep will take care of it.  I’ll keep you posted.

Do any of you care if the Yankees win the World Series?

I sure as fuck don’t.

I’ve never seen so many adults act like idiots as I did tonight.

We only put sports on the TV’s in my restaurant when it’s a NY big game or some other REALLY big game.  And we never have the sound on.  This of course pisses off everybody.  What I’d like to say but don’t is that the Fucking ESPN Zone is across the street.  Go watch it on 47 televisions all at the same time.  Of course they probably won’t let you sit at a table for 2 hours and not buy anything but that’s a whole other story.

So with the game only on two televisions, without sound you might think it would discourage people from watching.  It doesn’t.  And the worst of the bunch.  The staff.  Our assistant GM did nothing tonight but stare at the TV.  At least two dozen times tonight I had to force servers away from my counter so that I could actually wait on the people that were wanting service.  I stopped counting how many times people ran into me tonight.  You should NOT walk and stare at the TV at the same time.  And don’t look at me like it’s my fault.  If you watch where you are going it wouldn’t be a problem.

Full grown men  staring at the TV as though the world is about to end.  IT’S JUST A FUCKING GAME.  No one dies.  No one is curing cancer.  No one is going to solve the world’s hunger problem.  It’s a bunch of grown men in tight pants hitting a ball with a stick.  If you want to watch the game so badly then ask off for the evening.  Just get the fuck out of my way.

Can you tell I’m annoyed?  I just want the Yankees to lose and get it over with.  They won’t but it’s what I’d like.  Of course the big news in NYC right now is that the tickets are too fucking expensive.  As a co-worker asked tonight, “How many people in da Bronx can afford tickets to the stadium in the Bronx?  I think he might have a point.

Hopefully the Phillies will win it all very quickly and we can put this whole mess behind us.

 

 

 

Tuesday Evening.

My head hurts.  No seriously.  It does.  I’ve had a migraine all night.  It started around 6:00 and only got worse from there.  I got home from work a bit ago and as soon as I finish eating the peanut butter and jelly sandwich Adam made me for dinner I’m going to call it a night.

I don’t have a clue what to complain about tonight.

Work sucked.  We aren’t nearly as busy as we were this time last year.  Which means I’m making less.  Which means I have to work more.  Which sucks.  Why can’t I just be rich like other people are.  Seriously.  Would it have been so bad for me to have won the lottery and not have to work anymore.  I’m just saying.

Speaking of money.  We ordered the paper for our Christmas Cards last night.  It should be here by Friday.  We bought the embossing gun last night as well.  Now I just have to get Adam home from work on time so that he can start making the cards.  My plan is to come in at the last minute sign the things, “Happy Holidays!  Love Maddog.”  See how easy that is.  Then Adam will add the stamp and drop them in the box.  This boyfriend thing is great.

All kidding aside, the boyfriend thing IS great.  By the end of next weekend our apartment should finally be done.  We have a load to take to storage, a couple of bookcases to arrange, a bathroom to paint and all will be done.  I promise to post pictures when it’s all finished.

I’m a die hard real Christmas tree fan.  I haven’t had a fake tree in years.  But I think we are going to break down and buy a fake one.  I know, I know, I know.  It’s not the same.  BUT.  It means we can put it up early and take it down late.  It means we don’t have to worry about the fire hazard while we are in Texas.  It means we won’t be cleaning up needles for six months after Christmas.  And in the long run it’s an investment.  Of course it wasn’t until we started looking that we discovered that fake trees are fucking expensive.  The tree we’d like to have is almost a thousand bucks.  Who spends a grand on a Christmas tree.  So we are going with the less real but far less expensive tree from Home Depot.  I have also discovered that you can’t really buy an 8′0″ artificial tree.  It’s either 7′6″ or 9′0″.  We’d like an 8 or 8.5 footer.  A 9 is just too tall.  Hmmm.  Who decides these things.

My sandwich is gone.  I’m going to bed now.

 

A List To Live By:

1.  It’s not my fault that you can’t taste the fucking rum in your strawberry daiquiri.  (Who invented the spelling on this one?)  If you want to taste the rum order a rum and coke.  Or even better rum on the rocks.  The whole fucking point of a strawberry daiquiri is to NOT taste the rum.

2.  If you can’t taste the alcohol in your Long Island Tea it’s because you are a fucking alcoholic and need to leave my restaurant immediately and check yourself into rehab.

3.  SERIOUSLY.  You are NOT 21.  And SERIOUSLY, you did not get served here last week.  And SERIOUSLY do you think telling me this is going to get me to serve you?  SERIOUSLY?

4.  Do not get mad at me because your appetizer and entree came out together.  I told you at 1:20 when you placed your order that the kitchen was closing and it would all come out together.  If you wanted a slower paced meal then go to the fucking diner on 46th and 9th.

5.  It’s not my fault that your food took 30 minutes to land on the table.  So don’t yell at me!

6.  Don’t ask me why I live in New York.  Why the fuck do you live in Des Moines?  Or Wichita?  Or Tuscaloosa?  I wanted to live here, I moved, and I’m happy about it.  It’s a stupid fucking question.

7.  Please.  Pick up a tour book.  A newspaper.  A computer.  It is no longer 1985 in New York.  There are no prostitutes in Time Square.  You are not going to get gang raped on the subway at 4:00 in the afternoon.  Yes it’s safe to walk back to your hotel after the theater.   And yes I ride the subway to and from work.  Every day.  Every night.  No I am not scared.  No it is not scary.

8.  Don’t ask me if I “make bank” at my job?  I don’t know.  Tell me.  Do I make bank?  You are the one writing the fucking paycheck.

9.  Yes New York is expensive.  It is.  But it’s not outrageous.  I do NOT have to work three jobs to pay my rent.  Besides it’s rude to ask that question.

10.  If you are NOT going to tip me, then don’t come back three days later and act as though I’m the best server ever.  You are a FUCKING ass.  And might as well sit back for the ride because I’m not offering you shit.  You want it, you ask for it.  And then sit back and enjoy the ride because I’m not getting it till everyone else has what they need.

11.  Don’t complain to me that the prices aren’t in the menu.  And fuck you for saying, it’s my job I should know this.  I know what the prices are.  I don’t fucking make policy about what is and isn’t in the menu.  If I did, I sure as fuck wouldn’t be talking to you on Friday night.  I’d be out spending my six figure income.

12.  You didn’t know there was a waiter.  Really?  REALLY?  When was the last time you went into any fucking restaurant and someone didn’t wait on you.  Especially a restaurant this big.   You get table service at Jimmy’s the dive bar across the street that WE all go to.

13.  REALLY.  You didn’t notice the hundred other people out in the lobby waiting.  You thought it would be okay to just come in, find an empty table and seat yourself.  And now you are indignant that you have to move.  REALLY!!!

14.  Why if your bill is 89.37 cents do you tip 18.54 cents.  The number is completely random.   Just curious about that one.

15.  No you can not go to the bar and get your own drinks.  You have to sit there and wait for me to get them for you.  No you are not doing me a favor by doing this.  But I can do you a favor by letting you move to the bar so you can get things directly when ever you need them.

16.  You are NOT the first person who doesn’t speak English as a first language that I have ever waited on.  In fact you aren’t the first person who doesn’t speak A word of English that I have waited on.  We’ll get through this.  It’s my job.  I’ll make sure you get what you want and I won’t take advantage of you.

17.  If you know to tip 10 dollars on a hundred then you know it’s not an appropriate tip.  In fact if you know enough to leave a tip at all you know what’s enough and what’s not enough.

18.  What do you mean you don’t understand percentages in America.  It’s fucking math.  It’s the same everywhere.  EVERYWHERE.  Especially in the UK.  The language is the same.  The numbers are also the FUCKING SAME!!!

19.  Yes table 61 is my table.  But why do I have to spend 15 minutes in the kitchen explaining that I did NOT order a jumbo combo for the table.  I don’t know who put the fucking order into the computer.   I don’t know where it’s supposed to go.   I don’t know who made the fucking mistake.  But I don’t need two waiters, a food runner, an expo, and a manager tell me to come to the kitchen to fix the mistake.  IT’S NOT MY FUCKING MISTAKE TO FIX.

20.  Do NOT assume that at 1:12 (we close at 1:15) that I want all five tables that are waiting to be seated.  But did it matter to you that my station was empty.  My side work was done and all I had to do was wait three minutes to run my report.  Fuck NO it didn’t.  So instead of leaving work at 1:15.  I left at 2:35.  Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.

Fuck.

(and two of those last five tables stiffed me completely).

FUCK!!!!!!

A Hole in One.

I had a VERY stressful night at work.

Very.

Stressful.

VERY!

Tonight around 11:30 I was working trying to get through the end of the night.  I picked up money for a check.  Went to the wait station and counted out the change, put the money back in my pocket, dropped off the change and went to the bar to pick up drinks.  When I got to the bar, I did what I often do and put my hand in my pocket.  And my money was not there.  I panicked.  I went running toward the wait station and as I turned to go in someone yelled my name.  I looked back and there was a trail of money all over the floor.  Several of us picked up the money as quickly as we could.  Picture one of those machines that’s blowing the money around and you are grabbing it as fast as you can.

I get all the money back in my pocket and go back to work.  About 30 seconds later I panic.  What if somehow we missed a twenty dollar bill, or a fifty or even worse a hundred.  Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.

I realized there was nothing I could do about it.  I just had to finish my shift and pray for the best.

Just a note to all you non-restaurant people out there.  Most waiters carry their banks in their pockets.  Not just their tips but all the revenue they’ve collected for the evening.  At the end of the night they run a report.  The report totals up all your sales, from that amount it subtracts your credit card payments and then you get a total due.  You give the restaurant it’s cut and what ever is left is yours to keep.  If by chance you lose your bank you are responsible for it.  So let’s say I hadn’t found my money tonight.  I would have had to cough up all the money I owed out of my own pocket.  To put this in perspective as to how much money we are talking about.  I’ve had to pay as little as a couple of hundred dollars.  And one night I had over 2300 dollars in my pocket.  It’s a little scary when you think about it.

So as soon as I ran my report.  Before I’d even finished my side work or gone to the office where everyone else was doing their cashout, I counted my money.   I owed the restaurant 900 dollars even.  I had 927 dollars in my pocket.  I counted again.  And again.  And again.  And again.

FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK. FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.

I counted one last time and realized that basically my whole night had been a waste of time.

I went in to the cash out office, pulled out a chair, plopped down in it and started doing my paperwork.  As I was doing it I told everyone in the office what had happened.  They were all very compassionate.  Not compassionate enough to offer me money, but nice all the same.  So I’m sitting there counting my money again and Melissa says, did you drop some money on the floor.  I look down and there’s about 50 bucks on the floor.  I assume in my despair I’d dropped it.  I count it all out again and now I have 975 dollars.  Perhaps I’m just stupid.  I count again.  And yep.  It’s 975.  So I made 75 dollars not 27.  Big fucking deal.  I stand up to go turn in my money and Nick, my fellow cocktailer says to me, “Yo fucktard.  You dropped your money on the floor again.”  I pick up the money and what do you know.  I now have 1045.  What the fuck.

And then I realize what has happend.

I’ve told you guys a lot about my restaurant.  Some of you by now even know where I work.  My restaurant is big.  There are 130 servers on the schedule.  With so many people and so many shifts and so much stuff to cover most of the time their is very little attention paid to our uniforms.   I should also say that as a rule, I’ve never met a waiter who has a clean uniform every day.  A clean shirt maybe.  But never new pants every single day.  Some of the people I work with wear the same pants for weeks at a time without washing them.  I know it sounds gross, but in the big scheme of things that would gross you out a lot less than some of the other things I could tell you about.  I have a pair of pants that I wear to work that I’ve had since I started.  They fit me better than most of my other pants so I wear them a lot.  I’ve worn them a couple of times this week and since there were no ranch dressing splashed all over them I decided to wear them again today.

Now the thing about the pants is that they are two years old.  And have been worn to hell and back.  The cuffs are ripped and torn.  The right side is bleached a lighter color because of the towel I carry.  And there are four of five holes in them that are mostly covered by my apron.  One of the holes happens to be a rip that is parallel to my right pocket.

So tonight I’d put my money in my pocket.

Only I’d missed my pocket and put the money in the hole in my pants that runs parallel to my pocket.  When I went running the money fell out of my pants leg.  I picked it up not realizing that there was more there.  When I sat down more fell out.  When I stood up to take my money to the cashier more fell out.  When I realized what was happening I shook my leg and a whole pile of bills fell out.

When it was all said and done I counted my money and although it was not as much as I’d have liked it to be it was a realistic amount based on my sales for the evening.

So.

Those pants are going in the garbage tomorrow.  And even though I don’t have any other clean pants, I’ll be scrubbing the ranch dressing off another pair so I have pants that are safe to wear to work.

I’ll take the money I didn’t lose tonight and buy new pants on Saturday.

Whew!!!!!!

A Weekend in the life of Maddog.

The ceiling is patched.  The wall is patched, damp, but patched.  The bathroom ceiling is patched.  The bathroom door now closes.  The foyer door now closes.  With any luck at all we will be all unpacked and ready to move on to new projects in the next couple of weeks.

Actually our schedule is insane from now till the end of January.

It is.

This weekend 10/24:  Paint, put things away.

Next weekend 10/31:  Hang paintings.

Next weekend 11/7:  Finish up all apartment things.

Next weekend 11/14:  Arthur comes to visit.

Next weekend 11/21:  Adam has a cake due.  Plan for Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving weekend:  My mom, my aunt, my cousin, her husband and their three kids are driving up from Kentucky. (They are all staying with us as well).  Adam is cooking dinner for all of us.  While he’s cooking I’m taking them all to the parade.  On Friday will be a whirlwind tour of the city.  We’ll go until they all drop over from exhaustion.

They leave on Saturday.  On Saturday and Sunday we put up the Christmas Tree

Following weekend 12/5: Michelle comes to visit.  We finish decorating for Xmas.

Following weekend 12/12:  Christmas open house.  (You are all invited)

Following weekend 12/19:  Drive to Kentucky, then to Texas.

Spend the week in Texas.

Following weekend 12/16:  Drive to Kentucky and then to NYC.

Following weekend:  I have to work.  To be off for Thanksgiving and Christmas I’ve agreed to work New Years.  I won’t celebrate the New Year with Adam but spending the other holidays with family makes up for it.

The next weekend is our one year anniversary.  We are hoping to go away that weekend.

The next weekend:  We have nothing planned.

Following weekend:  We drive to Kentucky to spend four days with my family.

I’m exhausted just thinking about it.  And none of this includes things like plans with friends, theater, dates, etc.  It also doesn’t include things like making the 200 handmade Christmas cards that Adam has decided we should make.  I suggested sending them, he suggested making them.  So sometime in November we have to spend a day making them, so they can be signed, addressed and mailed in time for Christmas.  Let me know if you’d like me to send you one.

And now, I think I should go to bed.  It’s going to take all the energy I can muster to get through all of this.