my holiday weekend is in quick decline.
friday night i managed to sneak out of my parents' house for a few beers and some food. i stopped into an old piecing shop i used to love. for some reason i moved on from there. they started to cater to 'a different crowd', the little stainless hoops were slowly being taken over by more and more belly rings with butterflys and real diamond bling. the selection went from things i may consider like larger size gauges to real gold dangling belly rings with dolphins. this was the first place i realized that piercing could be sanitary. there was a place right down the street from here where i started down this odd road of needles. it was in the open top floor of a clothing store named zoli. it was pretty much an office chair, a counter and a cupboard. had a few non-worrisome piercing done there since i was underage and all but friends with the workers after i hung out there enough. never saw an autoclave. cross contamination through the roof... nice place. then i went into primal urge for a real piercing. back when i realized that you pay for quality. up i go into their piercing room... and it is more sterile looking than my doctor's office. i was pretty much hooked on there until i moved to philly and started going to infinite.
so i went in and a friend asked if they had anything to switch out his p.a. the guy wanted to know what a p.a. meant. ouch. but for fun i asked a few questions about getting my nipples redone. i mention that i had already had then done there three times (in primal urge) but that after migration and a drunken night they were gone. before i knew it i was upstairs whipping them out to have him have a look at the migration lines and scarring. i was a bit leery after a horrible piercing experience in scotland. he starts pulling out needles and such and says that well... since i already had paid for them i might as well have them. i supposed i neglected to mention that the last time i paid for them there was ... well... maybe almost ten years ago now. maybe nine. what a wonderful man. so friday ended on a high note with free, surprise nipple fun.
yesterday i went home and went into work to cook for the night. my boss is there doing some prep. he came in to tell me the bad news. i have no job. my restaurant is closing. today. they lost their lease.
i have worked here, learned here, gained respect here, ran this place for over four years now. i started my dreams of being a chef here and still had so much more to do. there will never be any place like the shack. last weekend i went in to cook. the waitress showed up at 4:00. i turned to my boss and asked him if that was the time i was supposed to come in as a waitress. i always come in at 4:30. he says, well.... yes. i ask him how long that has been for. he says about a year and a half now.... i just forgot to tell you. this shit isnt going to fly anywhere else. no where else is going to feed me tequila and deal with my hate of cilantro, the evil weed. where am i going to listen to phish until i die? as much as i was annoyed at waitressing there, cooking was the best high pressure yet laid back, hardest drinking and smoking, best nestled in between two bars and on the beach catch a wave or two before your shift job ever.
i am in utter shock. the shack effects all aspects of my life. and! i am one of those i lost my job two days after christmas shock stories your parents tell about a seconds cousin's best friend while they all mull it over and say awwww, poor kid!
so when i got home last night, not ten hours after finding i had no job.... i started looking. some place needs a breakfast cook to 'take charge of the a.m.'. i feel like i dont quite have that air about me walking into a new place... and that tequila wont be involved there, but i may go for it. i looked into corporate americas answer to my mexican restaurant haven (and no, not taco bell) and started their application because a new surf taco opened in my town. too bad i didn't know this news two months ago when i could have easily walked into a job. their application is three pages long. it has been almost ten years since i have actually filled out an application. i like how they have changed 'have you ever been arrested' to 'have you been convicted of a felony'. making it a little looser, good. i go through all the bullshit questions and look at the second page. write in a reference and glance down....
character questions:
if you could go one place in the world here would it be and why: fine, india, blah blah blah
if you had one wish what would it be and why: uhhh... whirrled peas. i am sure i could bullshit through this one.
who is your favorite cartoon character and why: wtf? at this point i am no long applying to your establishment you retards.
sigh!
friday night i managed to sneak out of my parents' house for a few beers and some food. i stopped into an old piecing shop i used to love. for some reason i moved on from there. they started to cater to 'a different crowd', the little stainless hoops were slowly being taken over by more and more belly rings with butterflys and real diamond bling. the selection went from things i may consider like larger size gauges to real gold dangling belly rings with dolphins. this was the first place i realized that piercing could be sanitary. there was a place right down the street from here where i started down this odd road of needles. it was in the open top floor of a clothing store named zoli. it was pretty much an office chair, a counter and a cupboard. had a few non-worrisome piercing done there since i was underage and all but friends with the workers after i hung out there enough. never saw an autoclave. cross contamination through the roof... nice place. then i went into primal urge for a real piercing. back when i realized that you pay for quality. up i go into their piercing room... and it is more sterile looking than my doctor's office. i was pretty much hooked on there until i moved to philly and started going to infinite.
so i went in and a friend asked if they had anything to switch out his p.a. the guy wanted to know what a p.a. meant. ouch. but for fun i asked a few questions about getting my nipples redone. i mention that i had already had then done there three times (in primal urge) but that after migration and a drunken night they were gone. before i knew it i was upstairs whipping them out to have him have a look at the migration lines and scarring. i was a bit leery after a horrible piercing experience in scotland. he starts pulling out needles and such and says that well... since i already had paid for them i might as well have them. i supposed i neglected to mention that the last time i paid for them there was ... well... maybe almost ten years ago now. maybe nine. what a wonderful man. so friday ended on a high note with free, surprise nipple fun.
yesterday i went home and went into work to cook for the night. my boss is there doing some prep. he came in to tell me the bad news. i have no job. my restaurant is closing. today. they lost their lease.
i have worked here, learned here, gained respect here, ran this place for over four years now. i started my dreams of being a chef here and still had so much more to do. there will never be any place like the shack. last weekend i went in to cook. the waitress showed up at 4:00. i turned to my boss and asked him if that was the time i was supposed to come in as a waitress. i always come in at 4:30. he says, well.... yes. i ask him how long that has been for. he says about a year and a half now.... i just forgot to tell you. this shit isnt going to fly anywhere else. no where else is going to feed me tequila and deal with my hate of cilantro, the evil weed. where am i going to listen to phish until i die? as much as i was annoyed at waitressing there, cooking was the best high pressure yet laid back, hardest drinking and smoking, best nestled in between two bars and on the beach catch a wave or two before your shift job ever.
i am in utter shock. the shack effects all aspects of my life. and! i am one of those i lost my job two days after christmas shock stories your parents tell about a seconds cousin's best friend while they all mull it over and say awwww, poor kid!
so when i got home last night, not ten hours after finding i had no job.... i started looking. some place needs a breakfast cook to 'take charge of the a.m.'. i feel like i dont quite have that air about me walking into a new place... and that tequila wont be involved there, but i may go for it. i looked into corporate americas answer to my mexican restaurant haven (and no, not taco bell) and started their application because a new surf taco opened in my town. too bad i didn't know this news two months ago when i could have easily walked into a job. their application is three pages long. it has been almost ten years since i have actually filled out an application. i like how they have changed 'have you ever been arrested' to 'have you been convicted of a felony'. making it a little looser, good. i go through all the bullshit questions and look at the second page. write in a reference and glance down....
character questions:
if you could go one place in the world here would it be and why: fine, india, blah blah blah
if you had one wish what would it be and why: uhhh... whirrled peas. i am sure i could bullshit through this one.
who is your favorite cartoon character and why: wtf? at this point i am no long applying to your establishment you retards.
sigh!
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We got to make it though, we have to right some wrong