I recently watched a motivational video on the art of making better tips and one of the suggestions was to wear make up and look nice. The man in the video also vaguely eluded to making better tips by having blonde hair and big boobs so I'm pretty sure I have his pornography preferences pegged. Anyway, he said that the better you look, the more tips you make. I'm almost positive I looked like death in an apron because I made $13.00.
One of my bosses cut me after two hours at work and I'm not sure if he cut me because we were slow or because I was driving customers away with my hideousness. So, after I clocked out I made a bee line for In-N-Out to order my usual "alone food," which, oddly enough is also my "hangover food." I ordered the Number 2 with both the burger and fries animal style and a sensible unsweetened ice tea with lemon.
My sodium levels are at an all time high which counter balances the all time low of eating an animal style number 2 in my underwear while I watch 30 Rock in bed and wonder why I wasn't born as Tina Fey. I would have taken a picture of this for the blog but I like having steady readers and I don't want to gain new readers by cheapening my writing. Also, no one needs to see that, including me. I almost blindfolded myself before digging in to those delicious fries... Now I'm hungry. Damn it.
Now I know what website I will be obsessed with on day three of no kids/husband.
After I polished off my pile of food and scraped the cheese from the sides of the fry boat, I took a lengthy coma-nap. When I woke up I felt like having sushi. I have realized that being alone is basically a period of time in which I only think about what food to eat next. I briefly considered perusing Craigslist for a cat to keep me company while I eat my sushi but realized my husband might walk backwards out the front door really slow like when he gets home and sees me passed out naked in a pile of styrofoam food containers while Mitzy (isn't my imaginary cat's name the cutest??) licks thousand island from the corners of my mouth.
Bow ties aren't just for boy cats anymore!
After my take out sushi love affair and my daydreams of another pet were all finished up, a couple of friends came over and we tried our hardest to polish off the five gallon bottle of vodka I bought on day one of no family around. We failed, but one of my friends brought a pizza and after I ate some of that at three in the morning I slept like a damn baby.
Day three is shaping up to be no better than the days before it and I'm running a tally of all the times I shouldn't have yelled at my kids or rolled my eyes at my husband's jokes because I NEED THEM BACK RIGHT NOW. I don't think this need for people around me constantly makes me codependent or crazy, but I might not be the best judge of my own character since I have created a fake cat, released her from preconceived notions of gender, and named her Mitzy.