Get The Bug Out Of Your Ass Part Two

I don't know if you read the comments, but Shmichelle did indeed have more to say on the subject. To be lazy fair I am going to make it a post so that she has her own voice in the matter.


It is I, Smichelle the room-mate. I feel as though Kara didn't give the situation as much......seriousness as I want her to. Sorry Kara, I'm just FUCKING LIVID about this situation. I know you are too but more expression of that is necessary so now I take the liberty to speak for us both.



First of all, they lied to us and tried to convince us that we brought the bugs in from our job. Then after the 2nd bombing and before the 3rd, this sleezeball has the audacity to tell me that this was an EXISITING PROBLEM. That's right, they already knew there were roaches before we moved in. So during all the sprayings (of which there were 3 professional and 1 regular maintenance) the landlord, let's call him The Dick Headed Salesman, DHS for short, gave me the number to the Great Exterminator (sarcasm included).


The Great Exterminator (GE) guaranteed each and every spraying and the bugs came back each and every time. When I asked him about this he told me that DHS refused to spray the entire building because it costs too much even though the GE, who is a professional exterminator, told the DHS that is the only way the chemicals would be effective.


This happened three times.


Every time we had to spend about 8 hours bagging all our shit up so it wouldn't get chemical on it, moving my cat(s) to my boyfriend's, and waiting a day to go back to unpack everything and wait 50 more days to do it again.


Now the DHS is tired of listening to me conplain about it so he says we can get out of our lease early. He's just going to put someone else through the same shit. What a fuck stick.
I just wanted to bitch about the DHS to the open air so everyone knows that he truly is a penis.


Oh and the cat(s) that I have to keep moving out for a week at a time cost me extra money to live here. Thanks ASSWIPE.


Thanks for listening, or reading. Either way, FUCK THE DHS!!!

I hope he gets cockroaches. In fact, I would infest his house with them if I knew how to do it.

Get The Bug Out Of Your Ass

Oh landlords.

Can't live with them and I've just found a way to live without mine.

He is letting us out of the lease pretty much because we are annoying him.

Now before you say, 'But Kara, we know how much you love to annoy people,' just listen to my side of the story.

I moved into this apartment in the middle of last summer. I had to take care of the rent by myself for a month and a half because my roommate was still binded to another lease and they wouldn't hold the apartment (after many of the ones we looked at we thought it was worth it). After a bit we started to notice the real dominant species of the earth sharing out home with us.

Roaches.

Yeah I hear ya, ew.

They sprayed once and bombed our apartment three or four times. I can't even remember. I'm sure Shmishelle will correct me in the comments section. Every time they bombed the apartment we had to bag up everything. Then we had to unpack it. After cleaning the pesticide off of everything. I feel like I have moved into this apartment more times than I have moved in my life. And I grew up a missionary kid so that's saying a lot.

After Shmishelle sent him a text the other night (when we saw another roach), he responded that we could move out but we had to tell him by that day and be out by the thirty-first of January. She told him we would tell him on wednesday not realizing that it was only one day away. We now have until friday to tell him, and will be spending all of our spare time making sure that we won't be homeless if this decision is made.

Seriously?!

I feel like he is letting us out of our lease because we are complaining too much.

Oh, I'm so sorry that I'm trying to take care of YOUR property and make it pest free.

Sure didn't mean to be a burden. I guess I was wrong to assume that, as a landlord and property owner, you would want to make sure that there weren't bugs.

Consider this my formal apology.

Asshole.

Let's Mock Boring People Together

I feel like you should all know about my abhoration (that is not pronounced abortion) for facebook by now. It's not even facebook. I have both a personal account and one for this blog. I believe that is is useful for finding out what people are up to without having to go through the mind-numbing process of actually conversing with them.

There's one more thing facebook does.

It has taken the place of face-to-face, or even cell phone, interaction.

I got on today and here is a conversation that stared me in the face and said, you're wasting your time reading this (whatever, not only did I read it but I copied it to put on here).

Status: Fml don't comment


Thing One: Sup
Thing Two: Sup
Thing One: Nada
Thing Two: Your still weak after tonight
Thing One: Really
Thing Two: Ya. You didn't kick it
Thing One: Sooo I'm noooo goood to kick
Thing Two: Lol your good
Thing One: Ok what u doing
Thing Two: Eatin
Thing One: Nice
 
Do you hate yourself yet? Is there a little thought forming inside your brain that is maybe telling you to shoot yourself so you never have to read it again? Yeah, me too.
 
I don't understand this. Facebook even has a chat option. I feel like conversations such as this one are unnecessary in the comments option of the page. They are boring and I am not facebook stalking  you to be bored.
 
So get with the program and post things like 'If Cheese was made from plaster I might still find it delicious enough to eat.' Stuff I can really make fun of you for.

My kind of Christmas Caroling

Angels We Have Heard On High - by the Bowen Beer Bottle Band

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Eggnog Season

It is officially almost Christmas.

I figured this out when I went to Shmal-mart earlier (then again for wrapping paper). There were tons of people there putting some last minute touches on their holiday shopping just like I was.

My favorite wrapping paper that I purchased? The Grinch paper.

I am a grinch.

Mostly.

Yes, I have a secret to tell you.

Are you listening?

Come closer.

Too close. Back up.

Okay. Here I go.

I secretly like Christmas. BUT only for a certain period of time. My Christmas Spirit is like milk. If you leave it out too long it's going to spoil quickly. However, I believe that it is a good time to begin feeling a lot like Christmas (or something like that). I took yesterday to shop and am going to take tonight to wrap presents and watch a couple classic holiday movies. I'm talking Holiday Inn and White Christmas. No creepy clay-mation for me tonight.

So to all of you, I hope you enjoy your holiday whether or not you enjoy the actual holiday. If nothing else just enjoy the time off work and get drunk.

Early Christmas Shopping Is For Pansies

I would like to apologize for being lazy as shit about posting lately. 'Tis the season ya know. The season to do all your Christmas shopping in one day a couple days before they're due under the tree.

That is exactly what I did today. I spent the day in Lawrence and Topeka Kansas shopping my ass off. I found some pretty good gifts, and almost made it home by midnight. Luckily I don't turn into a gourd at that point so we're good.

I always have this problem of trying to buy too much stuff for people in case they don't like what I picked out for them. Then I have to try and make it even with what I bought everyone else. I think that I did alright today. I made myself put a few things back that I really wanted to buy. And hell. If I really decide said person(s) need what I had picked out for them as well as what I bought for them I'll just go back. I don't think I have the energy to go shopping again, so they're stuck with what's in the lovely plastic bags shoved onto the top of my dresser.

Thanks also for all of the comments. I know I haven't been commenting back too much in the past week but they have still been saving kittens and making me smile.

For now I am going to put my feet up and blogstalk all of you until I pass out.

Thirty and Flirty Repost

I may have spent my blogging time taking a nap today. Luckily for you I was just as funny a few months ago as I am today. So, without further ado, here is a lovely repost for you go enjoy. So enjoy it!!!!

Thirty Flirty and...Oh Wait, You're Just Insecure About Turning Forty

I feel like I've mentioned this, but I don't feel like actually checking so I will state it again; I work in a restaurant as a server. This is important because it gives me a broader vicinity in which to interact with people, and therefore more opportunity to make fun of them. Tonight I served a gentleman and his young son. This is roughly how part of the conversation went.



Me: "Here's your drinks, do you know what you want to order?"

Thirty to forty year old man: "We'd just like to sit for awhile. My twin boys are evil and I finally got rid of one of them so I'd like to sit here and drink an abundance of beer while pretending to take care of my son."

Me: "Alright sir, well take your time deciding because I definitely have nothing better to do."



After awhile I went back and the kid ordered a corndog. In the process of getting the corndog choice out of the child I had to deal with more conversation.



Me: "Have you finally decided because I would like to buy beer while I still can."

Thirty to forty year old man to son: "Is this the one you thought was cute?"

Son: "I like to pretend that I like girls more than I do at my young age so that my father who neglects me unless I'm forced upon him by his ex-wife/my mother will think I'm worth paying attention to."

Me: "He's just insecure about the fact that he's going to be forty soon and doesn't really love you. Sorry kid, I hate your dad and he's just using you to hit on a mid-twenties waitress who he probably thinks is in her very early twenties because he has no concept of age due to the large amount of beer he has drank tonight."

Son: "I hate my life."

Me: "Me too. It'll get better once you're old enough to drink beer."

Son: "I'll have a corndog and my father is going to take years off of your life due to the immense amount of time it will take him to decide what he wants when in actuality he's just going to order a sandwich togo and waste your time."



Indeed, after drinking more beers than I was legally allowed to give him (and did anyway because I really do not care) the man orders a reuben togo. They were in there for over an hour during which time I had to go up to them randomly, pretend to care what he was saying, and pretend to like his kid. Their bill came to a little under twenty-seven dollars. He hands me twenty-eight and tells me he does not need any change. I put up with a lot of assholes at my job but that is because I'm a personality whore and I love money. So to you thirty-to-forty-year-old-man, I say this...



You are almost forty. Your child is not half bad but you talk about how terrible he is in front of him to make your crappy existence feel better by making someone feel bad about themselves. You are teaching him to treat women very poorly and using him to try and seduce young servers into thinking that you are charming. This means you sneakily sexually harass women through your son and he will probably learn the same disgusting habits that you have. This also means that unless he turns out good looking he will never get laid on a regular basis. After all this you left me a dollar because god forbid I wouldn't flirt back with you. This is because you are almost forty and you treat your son like crap. I am in my mid-twenties and I have no children so I am not interested in you, your dollar or your son. Also, you're almost forty; sorry about your luck on that one.

Corey Rocks My Socks!

I would like to start today with shoveling out some MAJOR bloglove to Corey. He very kindly helped me put up the beautiful buttons that you see to your right. Actually he didn't help he. He completely did it for me. Corey, thank you so so so so (so) much! Some day when I am rich and famous I am going to start a website just so that I can pay you to design it for me (It may be awhile, though).

His blog is titled If My Life Were A Musical...It Would Be The Best Musical EVER!!! Go to it now! And follow it. I am following it so it is Kara Hoag approved. But come back after and finish reading my post.

I don't have a lot of time today so I am going to entertain you with a quick Shmupplebees story.

A few years ago I was working a day shift. I don't recall, but I'm going to assume that I was hungover, still drunk, or just didn't care.

I got a two-top whom I assume were dating. The guy looks at the drink menu and asks what time it was. Without thinking I shoot back, "Well...it's five o'clock somewhere."

He did not look amused.

Neither did his girlfriend.

I, however, cracked up a bit. Partly because I thought it was funny, and partly because I felt a bit awkward that they were staring at me like I just ate one of their shoes.

I took their order, and tried to remain normal for the rest of their meal so that we could move past our differences in humor.

Apparently they couldn't. Neither of them tipped me and they both stole the pens that I had put down with their receipts.

Sidenote: that's the worst feeling ever the first time that happens. Stiffing a server AND stealing their pen is like slapping them in the face. Don't do it. It's just not nice.

Anywho, thank you so much again Corey! If your life WERE a musical, I bet you'd bravely defeat the villain and whisk your true love away to live happily ever after all the while classily doing it in song.

So to end, I've created a facebook account for this blog. I would love to be your friend. All you have to do is click on the nifty buttons that have been placed there by awesome Corey (have I thanked you enough yet?).

And follow me on twitter.

Help Wanted

Dear Readers,

I have a problem.

I need your help.

I am wanting to put a 'follow me on twitter' 'like me on facebook' and a link to the facebook account that I have created for this blog. I have no friends on this account because I don't know how to link it. This makes me sad. When I am sad kittens die (You know what you did non-comment leavers).

I am not tech savvy.

You may think I'm lying because of all the cool links to this blog you've been seeing around the internet. Don't let that fool you. I just copy and paste from one of my comments (Thanks Bruce!).

So if any of you would like to explain to me how to make these magical things happen on my blog, it would be much appreciated (just use small words and simple phrases).

Sincerely,
Kara

Better Choices: They're Not Just The Kid's Responsibility

I'd like to start out with a shout-out to all of my followers. You guys make me happy. I hope I make you happy too. Unless you hate yourself so you just follow my blog because it makes you miserable to read. I...hope that makes you happy in your own way? You should probably think about therapy in that case, though. Either way... Hello people who read this!!! I love you. I would cry now, but I'm not much of a tears person unless it comes to pmsing moments during the Karate Kid.

Okay, now that the mushy good-feeling part of this post is over with (thank deity of your choice), I want to talk about Happy Meals. HM's, as I like to call them (I just don't want to write Happy Meal over and over again), are a part of childhood. A right of passage so to speak.

According to Michelle Obama, these meals are making kids fat. Scratch that. The TOYS are making kids fat.

Excuse me? A HM toy is the cause of child obesity in this country?

What about the healthy side options?

But Kara, kids won't choose the apples over the fries!

Aren't you the parent? Don't you have the authority to make that decision for your child? If you ask your child if they want fish sticks or grilled chicken they will choose the fish sticks.

Unless you teach your child that they should eat the grilled chicken.

Or tell them that they can have a HM but they have to have the apples as the side.

Here's an idea:

Why not put educational toys in the HMs? Shouldn't we be concerned about this country's rising level of stupidity illiteracy? We could put small books or puzzles in the meals. Then we won't be fat and stupid as a country.

Bottom line.
You are the parent. Choose the apples for your kid. Buy them a book. Stop letting them crumble Cheerios into the carpet of my section.

Okay that last one is more of a personal thing.

I Have A Dream, A Song To Sing....Okay Just A Job To Get

As you all may or may not know, I hate my job. Okay hate is a bit strong. I really really really really really hate my job.

I think it's time for a new one.

So I am going to undertake the task of writing my resume so that I can send it in to places that will make me feel like an actual grown-up instead of a really old teenager.

So let's see....

Relevant skills:

I can drink the shit out of diet coke. If the building should ever be flooded with foaming waves of this delicious beverage, just give me a glass and I'll probably save the building before your paperwork even gets wet.

I have an intense gift of sarcasm. I can probably find a way to make fun of anything that you throw in front of me and you may or may not know that I am doing it. Until later. When you sadly realize that I was really making fun of you the entire time. Then you cry. Crying keeps the moral down. That way the employees don't rebel. Therefore, I will keep your organization working smoothly together under the nonsense rules that you have put in place.

I have very large, expressive brown eyes. When I look sad people like to give me things. You can use this to your advantage. Just place me in front of a difficult client and they will give in within ten seconds of looking at the downtrodden expression embedded in my retinas.

I can smoke a cigarette in under five minutes. This will ensure that I spend less time dilly-dallying out back, and more time pretending to work up front.

I am great at Super Mario World. Inter-company competitions? Never fear! You will leave the rest in shame if you have me on your team!


So there you have it. Those are my skills. Think I have a chance of getting my dream job by the weekend?

Ducks Should Be Wary Of Wind

I looked at news online today for inspiration. I found a story about ten things that lets you know that you have the perfect guy who will love you forever and ever and ever and ever. I was going to read it and tear it apart on my blog, but I got bored and didn't make it past five. I'm surprised I even got that far.

Other news is that a dog and a deer are best pals, and some ducks were tossed around by a strong wind. Is that even newsworthy? Aren't ducks kinda made to deal with wind? They fly and migrate and all that, so you'd think that it wouldn't be a big deal. I mean, it's cool. Lets not waste our time writing news stories about the deficit, poverty, the lack of understanding of AIDS in third world countries or the quality of food that is served at Long John Silvers. Lets talk about the problems that ducks are having with the wind.

Hey, speaking of Long John Silvers, I was brave today and ate it for lunch. I haven't been there in awhile, mainly because no one will go with me very often. This is mostly because it is Long John Silvers (or LJS as I am going to be referring to it from now on. It's getting hard to type out every time) and not because I don't know how to use a shower or toothbrush.

I ordered some fried shrimp meal with a side of fried mozz sticks (their fries suck. Don't eat the fries) and fried hush puppies. Oh, and those fried things that are found on the bottom of the frier which they scoop up and put in the fried box.

While I was standing with my boyfriend waiting for my order, I heard the lady working the counter telling her co-worker why they were out of whatever item. Apparently the FDA chose their shipment for no apparent reason and it was stuck in Heston. They had to wait for it to be released before the shipment would reach the store.

First of all, Heston is a shit-town. I don't want to eat anything that's gone through Heston. I didn't even know it had a LJS. I though all it had was a Sonic and a Pizza Hut.

Second of all, what the fuck?! You don't know why they stopped your shipment? Maybe it's because they saw the LJS on the side of the truck and knew that it wouldn't pass the standard so it was a safe bet to check out.

At least this shipment made it through, right?

At least that's what I told myself while I stuffed my face with fried goodness and a side of cocktail sauce.

Now what are we going to do about those poor ducks?

Advice For The Young?

Beer? Or Maybe Just A Glass Of A Better Personality With A Lemon Twist?

Today I would like to like to talk about the specimen know as the non-drinker. Personally, I do not have a problem with people who don't drink. I'm proud of you for making good life decisions. Plus, you probably feel a hell of a lot better in the afternoon morning when you wake up.

At work, it is demanded that I suggest alcoholic drinks to my customers. We serve alcohol, and if you come in we would like you to drink some of it. Pretty simple. I usually just suggest a Bud Light or a Margarita. It's what you'll probably order anyway so it looks better if I'm right. Then people think I'm magic. Then they give me a better tip (sometimes).

My problem lies with those non-drinking specimen who get offended when I offer them alcohol. This happened to me the other night. I asked a man if he wanted a Bud Light while he was waiting for the rest of the party to get there. He jutted his head backwards, raised his eyebrows and smirked a bit with the right side of his mouth.

"Noo-o-oo..." he said (say this out loud and make your voice go higher with each 'o' to where it almost sounds like a question at the end. It's not a question, though. It's just condescending).

The other two at the table chortled along with him and all looked at me like I was an idiot.

Look Mr. Deuchy. I have no idea that you don't drink alcohol. I am just trying to do my job and make your ticket as high as a can so that I can get more than a measly two dollars for having to laugh at your awful jokes for an hour.

Here's my advice. Get a shirt (or sweatshirt because it is getting a bit chilly outside) made that clearly states 'I do not drink alcohol so please don't ask me if I want a beer.' If you wear that shirt in my section I'll probably comment on it in a way that makes you think I'm not making fun of you, but I won't pressure you to put any sinful goodness near your lips.

Or just sling back a few cold ones so it won't be so painful when they pry that stick out of your ass.

If You Kids Don't Shut The Hell Up, The Boogie Man Will Eat You!

Last night was one of those rare occasions where I could imagine myself slapping a child. I got involuntarily stuck watching six kids, all under the age of seven, three of whom had never met me before and were terrified of me, rightly so. The youngest brat of the bunch was a four year old who refused to say anything but “umph” in between bursts of hysterical, ear bursting screams. Their mom drove ten miles to the house I was at to ask for a ride to the ER (which was less than half a mile away at this point. Could she not have had the mute child drive the rest of the way? It was an automatic, so it’s not like he’d had to shift or anything complicated like that).


So I get to stay with all the kids…yay me. By this time it’s 1 in the morning and all the kids are wide awake and I am highly pissed off. Not only am I never awake at this hour sober, but I have to form a human barricade along the edge of the couch (which is extremely awkward and uncomfortable) to keep the screaming one from lunging himself onto the floor…again.

Here, folks, is why I should not babysit your children…especially if I am not being paid for it, cause then I’ll just be resentful and say awesome things to your kids like, “If you don’t shut the hell up, the Boogie Man will eat you.”

Only after I pretended to call the Boogie Man and give him the address did the kids fall asleep; or at least pretend to. But whatever, a silent house is a happy house!

Ugh…where is the damn key to the liquor cabinet when you need it…and who the hell locks their liquor up anymore anyway?!

No Means No...Unless It's You Telling Me To Stop Wearing Vanilla

I remember a manager that used to work at Shmupplebees a few years ago. This guy was a grade-A creepster. Seriously. He told one girl that he wanted to take her virginity. Not. Kidding.

I'm not what you call a touchy-feely type. I don't really like hugs. Or people touching me. It's just annoying to me. If people insist on putting their hands on me against my will (I call this personal space raping) I choose to lecture them about my distaste for physical contact until they are so annoyed that they won't even want to speak to me again. Whatever. Less touching in my life then.

This manager, let's calls him Shrigolicious, kept giving me the back pat-rubs. You know what I'm talking about. Find someone right now, pat their back a couple times lightly, then rub your hand in a small circle. Judge their reaction. I bet you a kitten's life that they're creeped out.

After asking him to stop politely a few times to no avail, I finally gave him the famous Kara-lecture.

"Look, Shrigolicious, I don't really liked to be touched. I've asked you to stop so you are now legally not allowed to touch me. Anything further is considered harassment. Plus, I find you severely annoying. So Stop. Now."

He found it appropriate to take this time to ask me this following question:

"So....If you don't like people touching you what do you do about sex?"

I informed him that he did not need to know, now or ever, the answer to that question because it would never pertain to him.

Cree-per...  (Do that in a sing-song voice)

Dumb bastard made the mistake of telling me one time that he hated the smell of vanilla bath products.

Shrigolicious, Bath and Body Works thanks you. They got a hell-of-a-lot-of revenue in the vanilla department soon after that.

And you better believe my ass bathed/shampooed/conditioned/was sprayed in it every shift I worked.

Until he was fired.

For too many sexual harassment complaints.

Go figure....

Candlelight and Tears

I think that today I am going to write a happy, non-bitchy post. I feel a bit ashamed because I hate reading posts like this, and don't often feel inclined to write them. I would just rather read about how crappy the lives are of all you bloggers out there. Kind of like watching a car crash and thinking, "Hey! At least I still have my car."

I have been feeling a little down in the dumps lately due to normal girlish hormonal fluxuations (that's what pms really stands for if you didn't know). This has pretty much made me a sensi-pants to any comment that I could construe negatively in regards to yours truly. Or just make me react badly to comments that I would have delt with differently in a normal hormonal state.

Yesterday, though, was a great day. I kept my sensitivity to a minimum (I think).

My boyfriend rented some movies and a wii game (some carnival game that was fun-freaking-tastic) and made dinner at my apartment. I kept asking if I could help him, and he kept telling me no, so I kept going back to playing Zelda and eventually went and cleaned my room cause I felt a little useless playing video games while he made me dinner.

Every now and then he would bring me treats. I got a piece of cheese, a spoonful of potato yumminess, and some fantastic cheese sauce that ended up on my sweatshirt to name a few.

I felt a bit like a little kid.

But mostly I felt like I was having a great time because I didn't have to help and I got snacks.

Great dinner, great company, and great night.

Low point, though, was when we were watching the Karate Kid. The new one with Will Smith's son. Not a bad movie. There was one toughing scene that made me tear up due to my NGHF syndrome that I'm dealing with right now. Totally blaming it on that.

I made the mistake of looking at him, and he saw the tears, The ones I had been fighting to hold back. Now they were discovered and demanded to be let free from my eyes!

Shit. Now I was crying.

I quickly tried to swipe my eyes with my sweatshirt and pretend that nothing was happening on the upper region of my face.

"I have allergies," I told him.

"Uh-huh......" he replied.

He tried to put his hand on me but I swatted it away.

"You don't speak of this to anyone!" I threatened. "I will kill you if you say anything."

At which point he busted up laughing. I don't think he believed me.

The rest of the night went along without any more tears. We had a few drinks, played fun-freaking-tastic carnival game on the Wii, and then ***CENSORED***, then went to bed.

This morning I woke up, cuddled into him, and thought to myself, "I've got a great man to love here."

A second after that he farted.

And I giggled.

Because I'm twelve.

As a side note, today my roommate started laughing. This is roughly close to the message she got on facebook.

Kara wouldn't want me to tell you that she cried during the Karate Kid.

Told you he didn't believe my threat.

Blog Love And A Thanksgiving Feast Of Bitchiness

I think that sufficient time has passed that I can tell you about my Thanksgiving without seeming like a serial killer in the making (which I might have been on that day. Hey, we're all allowed to be crazy once in awhile).

But first....

Blog Love!!!

Mustang Sally over at Functinal Kaos gave me some. And it made me smile. You should go check her out because her posts are hella funny and her photography will make you want to go buy a camera in hopes that you can be half as good as her some day. Check out the photos of the carnival. The last one in the post is my favorite.

This is what I received from her:

Thanks Mustang Sally!

Yeah. It totally has cupcakes on it. WITH sprinkles! And who the hell doesn't love cupcakes with sprinkles?

In the spirit of these things (awesome awards), I would like to pass this on to Mrs. Hyde at A Bitch Called Mom. I just started following her blog recently and love it! She is not afraid to talk about the side of motherhood that sucks ass (and the side that is the most hilarious). I really enjoy the bitchiness honesty in the voice she uses to describe those who step in and out of her life. Plus, she makes a hell of a cake judging by the pictures.

Now to talk about Thanksgiving. I got to work at five-thirty. Thank God, because there was a seat in that restaurant that really needed to be warmed by my ass for about an hour straight. I kept it to beer (mostly) before the shift, with the exception of a few shots of whiskey. The last one was not my idea. I gave in fairly (totally) easily, but it wasn't my idea.

I would like you to know that the only incident I had was knocking the basket of bev naps onto the floor. I am clumsy anyway so no one knew it was due to my Thanksgiving celebration right before work. Even if they did know, I doubt anyone working that night would have cared.

So I warmed a seat up, played hangman (the girl totally cheated), and drank a lot of diet pepsi. Finally, about an hour or so after I got there my first table was sat. The lady asked me if the turkey was prepared in the store that day, to which I replied, "...kind of..." She didn't get the turkey dinner. I didn't blame her.

We're going to blur the rest of the night together into a whirlwind of scattered tables, cigarette breaks, crappy tips, cigarette breaks, rude service on my part, and a few cigarette breaks. Seriously, I think I have cancer from that night alone.

Fast-forward to my last table. The kitchen closed at eight-thirty. A man and his wife came in and sat in my recently swept (I still had the broom in my hand. I had literally just finished) section at eight-twenty six (I'm not sure where the hyphen goes on that one. If someone would like to correct me it'd probably be a good idea because I don't like being wrong on those things).

I know there were a lot of parenthesis, so I'm going to say that again. Eight-thirty equals the magical time that I get to retreat to the back and put everything away. Eight-twenty six equals the time that Deuchy McDeucherson sat down at my immaculately clean table. I hate him.

This guy has the audacity (emphasize that word when you read this sentence) to make this joke:

"I just came in so late that you'd have to stay here later. Har-de-har-har." Add a leg slap for good measure (he didn't really leg slap but add one in your mind anyway because it'll make him look even more like a jackass and that will make me happy).

I mustered up a laugh after a few awkward seconds of staring him down, but I think I sounded like a wounded hyena.

Yeah, what a jerk, right?!

I pretty much ignored them for most of the time they were in there. You don't make jokes about the loss of my Thanksgiving to me on Thanksgiving. I will not want to talk to you.

Plus, I was eating my free Shmupplebees meal and planning out the fastest way to make myself drunk after work so I was busy.

And no, I didn't have the turkey dinner either. It looked nasty.

Everyone Loves Blog Love

I GOT AN AWARD!!!

Given to me by the awesome Semi True Torystellar



I want to thank Semi True Torystellar at Can U Relate? for bestowing upon me my very first blog award! I am super excited!

To define this award, I am going to steal the definition from her post. Because I'm lazy it was said better than I could describe it.

"This award goes to bloggers who hold a mirror up to society and its members who may have somewhat gone astray and often smash them over the head with it provide insight as to how those situations should be properly handled"

If you don't believer her, go to my profile. It specifically says that my hobbies are 'making fun of people'. See? Proof.

I want to take this time to thank the academy Semi True Torystellar for giving me this award. It just plain makes me feel good about myself. All of you reading this, go to her blog. Now. Don't even finish reading my post. Hers is better. Quit wasting your time here.

Are you still here?

Good. Keep reading mine. I still want your attention. Especially since I am about to give this to a few of the people that I have grown to love in the Blogger world. That's right, some blog love is coming up...

Now!

I would like to give this award to.....

(drumroll)

Bruce @ Just Another Day In Paradise.

His blog is funny and awesome. I always get a good laugh when I head that way for tea even though he's a little stingy with the splenda. Visit him, but bring your own.

Sandra @ Absolutely Narcissism.

She dressed her son up as a Smurf. And gave him a tail. What more do you need to know? It was for Halloween, don't worry. Although I wouldn't put it past her to do it just for her own amusement. That's how awesome she is.

Jamie @ Daydream Believer.

She is pretty much adorable in her writing. Her voice is honest and often hilarious in the way she views the world. And the girl shares my love for nutella.

The Bitchy Waiter @ well, The Bitchy Waiter.

This is one of the first blogs I've followed and his view on people has been cracking me up ever since. If you've ever worked in the service industry his stories are completely relatable, and still entertaining if you haven't.

Now go, blog readers, go! Fly away to these blogs and find out just why they deserve these awards (because they're all awesome).

Save A Turkey, Drink Some Whiskey

I have decided to pout all day today. The grumpy-stick-my-lip-out kind of pout. I may include a nose wrinkle if not enough people ask me what's wrong. And you all need to know that I have huge puppy dog brown eyes. Not the scary round kind of big eyes. Mine are still a bit almond shaped even though they've built a house, put up a white picket fence, and bought a dog on half my face. Point being that I'm going to put my lip out, wrinkle my nose and make people feel sorry for me all day.

I'm also about to go to the liquor store and buy a LOT of alcohol. Don't worry, I'm going to stick to beer (mostly) before my shift tomorrow but this server is definitely going in at least a sheet and a half to the wind.

Tonight, I am going to drink at least a bottle of wine and possibly some whiskey. This will turn my pouty face into a "MmI Haf Tsoh Wrofk Thanshkgifing.....mmmmThpppp!" Insert more sad face. Okay, by now it will be more of a grumpy 'I'm really drunk' kind of face. Also, insert multiple deep sighs to make sure everyone around me is paying attention.

I will wake up tomorrow and drink a red beer to make myself feel better. For those of you who don't know, that is simply beer with tomato juice. It's delicious. Try one. Then I will tally how many beers I am able to down before my shift starts. Then I will stumble my ass into Shmupplebees. Then I will glare at people for approximately four to five hours.

After that is said and done I am going to come home, drink the second bottle of wine that I have purchased for my holiday occasion, and then make shots that include the whiskey. I will then slightly slur SHOTS! to everyone around me (most likely my boyfriend and his roommate) until people join in on the holiday cheer. I will then pour more shots and pout until someone takes them with me. Rinse, repeat. Rinse, repeat.

I am going to be blackout drunk by this point so I have no more information for you. End of post.

Happy Thanksgiving!

(And for all of you reading this, I really do hope that you have a great holiday. Be merry, drink wine, and make a cheers to Kara Hoag!)

The Case Of the Passive Agressive Sleeper

I have no idea what this says, so I hope it's not offensive. 

If it is you should understand that I did not personally make this.
And then you should get over it.

Does anyone else get aggressive in their sleep when they're angry?

My boyfriend told me that I kicked him off the bed not once, but twice, the other night. I was sleeping, I didn't do it on purpose! I promise!

My last boyfriend used to tell me that I would do that to him when I was angry at him. Pretty much take over the entire bed in my sleep and refuse to let him sleep next to me. So, I started thinking about why I would've done it the other night.

A couple days ago, my boyfriend's roommate made a comment that kind of hurt my feelings (Oh PMS'ing. Boys need not look at that one if they don't want to). I don't think that the comment contained any animosity, but it made me feel slightly bad about myself nonetheless. I had decided to shove it aside and not worry about it, but that just doesn't work sometimes.

After thinking for awhile I decided that I had been passive aggressively taking it out on my boyfriend, including kicking him off the bed....literally...

I heard this story quite a few times in a row. I think he was still a little mad that I did this..

Apparently, I just kept scooting closer to him in the middle of the night until he ended up on the floor. Then I refused to move or respond to anything, including turning on the light, practically shouting my name, and physically trying to push me over. Did I also mention that I had all the blankets and wouldn't give those up either?

He finally got through my defense and made his way through enemy lines back onto the bed. At around seven in the morning he found himself on the floor...again. This time I was a bit more responsive, but still just as uncooperative. I just kept responding 'mmmm-hmmmm' to everything.

There was supposedly a lot of kicking and kneeing involved when he was allowed in the bed with me.

I feel bad.

I also laughed my ass off when he told me this.

Then apologized

Then laughed some more.

Did I mention that all this happened in his bed?

Let's Talk About Comments

I received a very nice comment from someone dear to me last night. Okay, it was partly nice. ....Mostly nice. It was about 79.9% nice (and to me that's an A+ in the nice department). My roommate came home and I was telling her about my adventures in the basement of my Mom's house. I mentioned the Gameboy, to which she retorted, "Oh! Is that why you have a Gameboy as the picture?"

I was astounded! And amazed! And astonished!

She was already on my blog about to read it. Now that's a good friend to have around. She supports me enough to take the initiative and go to my blog herself. Okay....I think she just knows that if she doesn't read them I'm going to read them to her anyway.

She read this comment to me before posting, but then took my hearty laughter as a sign that I was okay with her posting it. Here is what she wrote on I Hate Mornings:

Shmichelle said...



Hello everyone, I am Kara's room mate. In case you were wondering she is exactly as funny as her blog in real life, if not more. Anyway, I want you all to know that she ended up putting in a movie and slept while her niece watched it (not on purpose of course, she was just tired) I tell you this not to put down Kara at all (if I got to choose an aunt she'd be on my top 5 list) but to exemplify her niece's cuteness. The little angel (not devil) waited through almost the entire movie until her Auntie woke up an hour later and said "Is it ok if I open my Sprite now?"


And of course, Auntie said guiltily "yes"


The moral of the story: Get all the rules on the table before you take a nap.


I'm going to make this even worse for myself. I did fall asleep. Upon waking I asked my niece, "Why didn't you wake me up?!"

To which she replied, "You just looked so peaceful."

Then a few minutes later she asked if it was okay for her to drink her Sprite now. I should tell you that she was also not feeling well. I felt horrible.

Real moral of the story? Don't trust me with your kids. And pick awesome roommates.

A Trip Down Memory Lane

I decided to be a good daughter, and go over to my Mom's to clear my stuff out of her basement. Okay, I went to pack up my stuff and just put it in a different part of her basement...

The basement used to be my bedroom, so I'm talking about things from when I was young!

Okay, and part of college. So I moved back in a couple times. Times are rough when you need to spend a good majority of your income on alcohol. Don't judge me.

Some things I found:

Millions of shotglasses from all over the United States and Europe. I knew the right kind of souvenirs to buy even when I was in high school.

A potpourri-crockpot looking thingy. You put potpourri in it with some water and it heats up to make the room smell delicious. It never worked well. Also, when I opened it up I found some potpourri from the time of the dinosaurs. That one went into the trash bag no questions asked.

A pink rod-thing that they used to pass off in high school track races. I don't know what it's called. I think it's a baton. A friend of mine stole it from one of our track meets and gave it to me. That kind of thing was sweet then. Ah hell, you could probably still win my heart over by stealing something for me.

About eight hundred old phone chargers. You know the first style cell-phones that were bigger than your head? I think some of these chargers might have belonged to a phone like that. I put them in a pile to take to the antiques store. (Okay, I didn't...)

Beany Babies!! (Are these still worth money? Cause my ass is poor.)

A Gameboy. You need to know that it is, in fact, the very first Gameboy they came out with. And it still works. For those of you who are younger, this is not the sleek black one that has a colored screen. This baby is the size of a text-book and has a green screen. The background shows up in a darker green. I don't care if you make fun of me. I'm keeping this thing forever.

Clothes, clothes, clothes, and clothes. Then...I found some more clothes. We're not even getting into this one.

Claires jewelry. Oh, and those fake Mardi Gras-esque beads they give out at school functions. I don't know where I got so many of either of these. I think my mom may have opened up a Claires in the basement and not told me about it. She just stuck the extra retail in my vanity table.

This has gone on long enough.

Pretty much today consisted of me putting my shit into random piles. It now looks more organized, but I think I will wait a few more years before forcing myself to actually part with any of it.

I Am NOT Thankful For Shmupplebees: Part 2

I looked online to see how many people were scheduled on Thanksgiving. I noticed a pattern. Many people who DIDN'T request off have the day off, or only have one shift. There are several people who did request off and have to work a double.

I don't think Shmjason even tried to give people the day off that requested it.

Sorry about the second rant. I am still just so so so so mad.

And yes, I did have to work last Thanksgiving as well. I'm sorry, the people who come in are sometimes scary. Also, people tip worth shit on Thanksgiving. Christmas-time, I make fantastic tips. Thanksgiving, people are angry at me for pretending to be happy at their table, because they don't give two shits about holiday cheer.

This is my plan now. I am going to sit in a Snuggie and take my own advice.

Then I am going to go to work, where I will pretend to care for approximately half an hour. After that, I will break out the bottle of Jack that I will have brought to work with me and enjoy my holiday via a togo cup; work or no work.

I Am NOT Thankful for Shmupplebees

Today I am angry. I got a text on my phone because for some reason Shmupplebees work schedules is now texted to me. I don't want to know as soon as the schedule goes up. I want to wait until the last possible moment to look online and see which days I am going to hate myself.

That day appears to be next Thursday. I am closing. If you didn't catch on in the last two sentences, next Thursday is Thanksgiving. That is why today, I am angry.

I looked at jobs in my area after the schedules so rudely interrupted my afternoon of doing nothing, and there is zilch. Zilch means zero. I'm sure you all know that but I feel like being a condescending asshole for the time being (please don't un-follow me for it. I need your attention. I am an attention whore. Love me.)....(You love me right?).....(Leave a comment telling me so.)

Ahem....

To make myself feel better I am going to begin planning out a book titled 'Shmupplebees', and the two managers I hate most of all will be named 'Sonny' and 'Mason'. (Suck it, Shmony and Shmjason)

It is going to be all about them sexually harrassing 19 year olds, texting innapropriate things, and grabbing asses. All because they have tiny penises and are insecure about the fact that they failed at everything they wanted to do in life and now have to babysit college students. I will place myself as the main character, and in the end I will become rich off of my famous blog, buy Shmupplebees, humiliate them in a way of my choice, fire them, and then burn the store to the ground. All in the eyes of fiction, however. I'm pretty sure that could put me in jail for arson if I were to actually do it.

On a lighter note, I want to thank Bruce for pimping me out on his blog not once, but twice now. Bruce, you're awesome. God thanks you for saving kittens everytime I write a blog (and I love reading your comments too).

His blog rocks as well. You should go visit him here. Plus, if you go there you get to read the really nice things he said about me, and find the 'Where's Waldo' kittens comment he slipped in.

If I Delete My Facebook Friends, Who Will I Have Left?!

You know what I hate? Having too many friends. Gee. I just hate when people try to make plans with me, or talk to me, or try to tell me every little detail of what their lives ensued that day.

Luckily for me it is National Facebook Unfriend Day. Today I can go into my facebook account and 'trim the fat' off of my friends list.

All those times you wished you'd never added Joe Shmoe or Sally Shmally as your friend? Now you have to deal with their uninteresting updates crowding your newsfeed when you'd rather be spending time finding out what the pretty girl who sits next to you in bio-chem is doing.

Today, friends (maybe), you can do something about it. Just remember to follow the guidelines:

""If you wouldn't loan someone $50 unfriend them," Kimmel said. "If you wouldn't invite them to your birthday party, unfriend them. If you wouldn't cry if they got hit by a bus, unfriend them."

Bikers Love America Too

How would you like to earn the name 'Flag Boy?' Hopefully 13-year old Cody Alicea likes it because that is what he has been deemed all over national news.

Apparently Cody put a flag on the back the bike he rode to school. Nothing was said until right around Veteran's Day, when the school told him he had to put it in his backpack due to the fact that it was 'bothering other students.'

Everyone got all hot and bothered by this, and it spread like herpes in a nudist colony. (Spread like wildfire is so cliche, don't you think?) A group of bikers even followed young patriotic Cody to school one day, and circled around the school flag-pole to sing Kumbaya and We Will Rock You, Queen-style (see photo above). 

One of the reasons the school gave for the banishment of the American flag on school property was that it could cause race issues and violence. What American feels that the American flag is racist? Isn't it the one blanket icon that covers us all?  Red, yellow, black, white and biker; aren't they all precious in the flag's sight?

I'm just impressed that a 13-year old would even care enough to honor his grandfather, and all of the veterans of this country, by displaying this flag.

Moral of the story? Don't fuck with the flag, or it will fuck with you.

Oh, and bikers are patriotic too. And love Queen. (They didn't really sing Queen that I know of, though. I lied to you. I'm sorry.)

Don't Stop The Music. Just Kidding. You Made My Ears Bleed.

"What do you mean they can't fix the pitch when I sing live?"

If you can't sing, there are quite a few technological advances in the music industry to make you sound like a true star. Singing live isn't one of them.

Let's face it, 'tuning up' only gets you so far. Once you hit the live stage, there are no magical vocal fairies to tweak your performance. Short of slipping invisible earmuffs on every audience member or pulling an Ashlee Simpson, your secret is gonna come out. No amount of eye blinding costumes or off beat drunk stage dancing can make up for your off key ballad.

The only thing that rang true to the song was the line, "they've told me to stop singing." Yes, yes they did, but sadly you didn't listen.

Next time you contemplate embracing the world through a live venue as greatly viewed as SNL, don't.

Oh...80's dance streamers! I'm suddenly distracted and you now sound like an angelic choir decided to frolic on my eardrum.

Century Long Mystery Solved!

Have no fear!…the answer to the age long question we’ve all been asking ourselves is finally answered. Cats lap up 3/100ths of a tsp. of milk with each lap. And if that just isn’t enough to satisfy your quest for kitty knowledge, then go grab yourself a copy of today’s (yesterday's. Sorry. The nice lady took precedence over cats. It's all over the web, though.) New York Times for the five step photo rendition as a cat “lightly touches the surface (of the milk) with the smooth tip of its tongue.” These are some quality photos, not at all disgusting in their depiction of milk drooling back out of the cat’s mouth. But wait…I thought we weren’t supposed to give cats milk. Now you’re just confusing me New York Times, with your highly sophisticated animal studies.

Sleepy? Check The Library!

Last week my roommate couldn't find her coffee mug so she asked if she could borrow mine. I hesitated and stared at the cup for a second because there might have been mold on the inside (I had left it at the last house I'd lived in and it wasn't the cleanest place in the world). I wasn't positive, but was sure enough that I didn't really want to drink out of it ever again. My roommate said that she noticed there might have been mold but it could be something else. Since she knew about it I let her use the cup.

Tonight she told me that it was stolen. She left it in the library, and when she went back a few hours later someone had taken it. It was also full of coffee. They stole the cup and the coffee. Bastard. Your mom probably didn't love you enough.

So my question is, who steals a coffee cup?! Was this person so sleepy that they chanced taking someone else's cup o' joe?

Man I'm so tired. I can't even think how I'm going to get through next hour's biology class. The professor is so boring! The room is so dark and cold, if only I had some....coffee! Gee, I hope it isn't decaff......

I hope you get sick from the mold.

An Act Of Kindness

As you may have gathered from the vast amounts of sarcasm and cynicism in my posts, I have a mildly sadistic view of the world. Today, however, someone bestowed on me such an act of kindness that almost restored my faith in humanity.

My roommate has been sick, and was feeling a bit better today. That, and the fact that she has been cooped up in the house for a couple days, made her want to venture out into the ice-cold rain in search of a yummy pastry. I took her to her car, which had been left at the bar a few days ago, and then drove to a few places in search of the magical, delicious pastry. We went to a couple of places downtown, but alas they were not sufficient. She decided she wanted to go to Starbucks instead, so I hopped in her car with her, leaving mine downtown. We discussed the fact that she was low on gas on the way to Starbucks, but failed to get gas before hopping on the highway to come home. I bet you can't guess what happened a few minutes after we got on the highway....

Yeah...

We coasted as far as we could, and made it almost to the exit before having to stop. After debating for awhile, we got out of the car and began walking. Again, it was (still is) raining and extremely cold. We saw a car stop in front of us, and I told my roommate that I wasn't getting in if the person looked like they were going to rape me. The person that got out of the car was a very nice woman. I felt reassured.

She offered us a ride, and began chatting with us once we were in the car. When we got to the gas station she offered to wait and take us back. We told her she didn't have to since it was the distance of about a block and a half to the gas-less car. She said she didn't mind, it was cold/raining, so we let her.

After buying a ten dollar tiny gas can (yeah...) and filling it up with the gallon it could hold she took us back. On the way she asked us questions about our schooling, plans, and even told us about her daughters in a way which related to our stories. Extremely nice lady.

I do not know this woman's name (I wish I had told her about this blog so I could actually extend this to her, not just about her) but I would like to, again, say thank you so much. This was probably the kindest thing I have seen anyone do in awhile, and I understand the risks associated with stopping to help someone along a highway. I'm glad you took a chance on us. May your children and children's children (etc.) be blessed with riches and pretty babies.

Best part about it? Her last words to us when we were getting out of the car were, "Remember girl, don't ride with strangers! Only mothers!"

Got The Clap? There's An App For That!

Are you sexually active?

Do you find yourself afflicted with uncomfortable burning and/or itching in your private areas but are too ashamed/lazy to go to the doctor?

Well, your prayers have been answered!

There is an application in the works that will use your i-phone to test for STD's. "...the small device will be dispensed from vending machines, where you can then spit or wee on it and then plug it into the iPhone. Within minutes a diagnosis will be received, saving you the embarrassment of going to the doctors."

Lets hope they're easier to read than pregnancy tests.

"Honey? Come over here! Does that say AIDS or the clap?"

I Hate Mornings

Well, the unthinkable has happened. I actually woke up and got out of bed before eight a.m. Don't worry, bloggers, this will not become a common occurrence for me.

My niece is sick, so my sister is keeping her home from school. Unfortunately, she needs to attend class herself so I agreed to watch the little devil for a couple hours this morning.

So, I dragged myself out of bed when I could have just kissed my boyfriend goodbye and kept on sleeping for several more hours. Little girl better know how much love it takes for me to do that.

Until she gets here, I am going to drown myself in coffee, and wonder why the hell the sun is shining like I'm supposed to be happy about being awake.

Drunk Driving Is The Least Of Our Problems In This Society

Do you find yourself often embarrassed by those late night posts on facebook or twitter? Do you wish there was a way that you could stop yourself from posting things like, 'your baby has a big head' and causing your new-to-motherhood friend from being mad at you? Have you noticed the number of "facebook friends" diminishing due to inappropriate content someone wrote in your status bar at four a.m.?

Thank God someone came up with a fix for that!

Now all you have to deal with is the embarrassment of having 'Kara Hoag is too drunk to post' written on your wall. Hey, at least you didn't try to facebook your ex to tell him/her that if it wasn't for the fact that they were the best lay you've ever had you would have disassembled their appendages after the break-up.

When In Rome, Find Out What They Don't Want You To Do So You Can Annoy Them

Everyone knows that sudden urge to rebel when someone tells you not to do something. Personally, I get a very strong urge to push a person's face into the dirt when they tell me to do (or not do) something. I think it's called problems with authority. Just ask Shmony and Shmjason.

What it you knew of magical laws across the United States that are just asking to be broken?

Never fear, bloggers, never fear. I can help you.

To read a much larger list of stupid laws, click here. For now, I have compiled a bit of an appetizer for you before heading out into the webs of inter to check it out for yourself.

FLORIDA


If an elephant is left tied to a parking meter, the parking fee has to be paid just as it would for a vehicle
     Do they charge extra for over sized anim vehicles? And if it's a baby elephant can it be parked like a motorcycle?

NEW YORK


The penalty for jumping off a building is death.
     If you don't die on the first attempt do they just take you back up to the top and push you off again?

NORTH DAKOTA


Beer and pretzels can't be served at the same time in any bar or restaurant.
     Can they be served separately and consumed at the same time? Do you have to finish your beer before being allowed to eat a pretzel? Can you share your neighbor's pretzels? Ah, this is too complicated. We'll just serve peanuts.

It is illegal to lie down and fall asleep with your shoes on.
     Next time you fuck with someone after they've passed out drunk with their shoes on in North Dakota, you can inform them that it was your civil duty to do so.

TEXAS


A recently passed anticrime law requires criminals to give their victims 24 hours notice, either orally or in writing, and to explain the nature of the crime to be committed.
     Dear City Bank, I will be robbing you at approximately three p.m. on the third of May. My reason is that I am tired of not being able to pay my mortgage due to the large amounts of cocaine I have to purchase to feed my habit, and I just thought that since you have so much cash on hand it wouldn't be a big deal. You will know me by the black mask with eyeholes that I will be wearing, and the orange daisy which will be pinned to my black sweatshirt.

The entire Encyclopedia Britannica is banned in Texas because it contains a formula for making beer at home.
     Did they ban the internet too? Because I'm pretty sure that there are plenty of webpages that tell you how to make beer.

And my favorite.....

ALABAMA


It is illegal to wear a fake mustache that causes laughter in church
     Are you kidding? How else are you supposed to enjoy church. Have you ever sat through a sermon? Much more enjoyable when wearing a fake mustache that is causing seven year old next to you to burst into fits of loud, inappropriate giggles.

Warning: Angry Rant Ahead

What is it about being a manager that makes people so goddamn useless?

Tonight I was on carside, while having a section at the same time. I ended up getting quite a few togos at once, one of which was almost eighty dollars and quite large.

I asked Shmony to help me, and told him that he needed to keep an eye on the two tables that I had because I couldn't get to them anytime soon (I was putting together the eighty dollar togo at this point). He said he would, and I checked back with him a few times when he would randomly reappear in the kitchen.

After awhile I was still stuck in the back putting orders together and asked him how the tables were doing. He informed me that they were pretty pissed off.

In addition to that I had several servers tell me how pissed off at me the tables were.

I didn't ask some random server who was also busy to help me. I went to the manager and informed him that I was too busy to handle my tables and asked him to take care of it. His affirmation should have meant that he would actually do it, but in actuality I was pretty much an idiot to think that Shmony had the mental capacity to take care of anything except for his need to hit on 19 year old waitresses.

I ended up making twenty-five dollars even though I had almost four hundred in sales. My togos pretty much stiffed me and my tables stiffed me because I was so busy with the togos.

I need a new job.

F. you Shmupplebees (and Shmony)

Thanks For The Ten Bucks, Now How Do I Know You Again?

My dad, before he became a missionary, was a surgeon in the town I currently live in. He died during a business trip while we were overseas, so this could be construed as him dying for the lord.

Apparently he was well liked (I was very young when he passed so I don't really remember), so I have people asking if I am 'Kara Hoag' all the time. Most of these people I do not know. Also, most of these people do not tell me who they are. I am just supposed to recognize someone who knew my father or knew me when I was in middle school.

Right.

Last night I served a table of ladies who apparently ALL knew me. They asked if I was Kara, and I responded 'yes'. I mean I am, so that seems like the appropriate response. They all clucked and cooed at me like I was a precious child to them, and I responded by asking for they drink order. I just wanted to serve them and get on with my night, not spend two hours trying to figure out just who the hell they were!

I wonder if they would have left me as good of a tip if they knew I didn't go to church?...

Warning: Taking My Advice May Occasionally Result In Impaired Driving

We all know what they are. If you've tried them you are certain to love them.

Snuggies.

Snuggies are amazing. They keep you warm on a cold winter's eve whilst still allowing you to comfortable and conveniently hold the Wii remote and that steaming cup of cocoa spiked with Kahlua.

Random fact:
Did you know that not everyone knows how to properly use a Snuggie?

That's right. Some people are baffled by this world changing invention.

My roommate told me last night that she had had several people, upon finding out how deep her love for her Snuggie is, ask her not only how she keeps her front warm with it one, but how they too can use their hands freely like they have seen in the commercials.

So you've seen the commercial then?..... 

And the picture on the box that contained the Snuggie. Surely you glanced at the picture before greedily tearing the box to shreds in order to get to the prize within.

For those of you who are still confused about how to properly use a Snuggie let me help you.

1. It goes in front of you. It is not a bathrobe. If you want a bathrobe then buy a bathrobe. While I am saying bathrobe this many times I shall continue once more. Put it on like you are putting on your bathrobe backwards.

2. It has sleeves. You put your arms in these. That is how you can use your arms. I don't know how else to put this. It has two sleeves. You have two arms. If you are still confused I will try again. One arm per sleeve. Kind of like a jacket. Or a backwards bathrobe.

3. Make cocoa.

4. Pour an ungodly amount of liqueur of your choice (I recommend Kahlua) into said cocoa.

5. Sit back and enjoy.

Any more questions? Go to the Snuggie website. I'm sure they have a Q&A section or a Contact Us link.

Pickles Aren't An Appropriate Side For Wings

Tonight I was serving two college aged girls. Now I don't like to judge people on appearance (I do like to judge people on anything!...) but I could tell right away that these two were not going to be good tippers. The special on Thursday night is very cheap wings, so their ticket amount was going to be small anyway.

Everything goes smoothly except for the fact that I forgot to bring one of the girls out her side of pickles. Seriously? Who goes to a restaurant and gets a side of pickles. She wasn't even eating anything that went with pickles. She had wings. Bitch just wanted to eat some frickin' pickles. I say go to Shmal-Mart and buy yourself a whole jar of pickles. It'll last longer and you won't have to come sit in my section and annoy me.

Pickles aside...

I swiped her credit card after she gave it to me. Common practice. The first card she gave me was denied (I always get a small amount of sick pleasure when this happens) so she had to give me another one. I ran that one through and it was accepted. I turned the card over as I usually do, and saw that it had 'See ID' signed onto the back. I promptly took her card back and asked her for her ID.

'Why didn't you ask me for it before it was ran?' She demanded, tilting her head to the side and pursing her lips.

'Um, because I don't look at them until I get to the computer,' I replied with a slight raise of my eyebrow and thick ooze of sarcasm running down my voice.

'Well what IF my card was stolen'?' She batted back at me.

'Well then we would void off the amount.'

I grabbed her friend's card and asked to see her ID before I swiped the card, thinking that this would make bitchzilla happy. It didn't. When I came back to the table I guess she just hadn't quite had enough of the conversation because she started speaking to me again.

'Well, I think that your practice isn't right! What if my card had been stolen?!' Lips pursed, head looking like the string that was connecting it to the floor was being reeled tighter.

I sighed, loudly, hoping that she would hear me. 'Then we would void it off and it wouldn't be charged to your card. Well, you ladies have a good night!' and I twirled myself around and never looked back at their table.

They didn't tip me. What a surprise.


*Also, as a side note, my roommate got off work after I did and told me this story.

We were really busy and a table asked her for a rasberry lemonade. No big deal. She had about eight tables total at this time, so the request became a fleeting thought in her head, meaning it fleeted right out of her head as soon as they asked for it.

Again, no big deal. She went to the table several times and asked if they needed anything else (once even specifying if they needed anything else to drink). They said no.

When they had left she went back to the table to find a note written on their discarded receipt.

You never brought me my lemonade. Jerk.

Note that Jerk was a sentence by itself.

Wow....   Was the lemonade really that detrimental to your happiness in life?

Maybe you're the jerk, Shmupplebees customer. Maybe you're the jerk.

Sometimes It Just Takes A Little Push In the Right Direction

While reading one of my favorite blogs on here, Daydream Believer, I got to thinking about one of the season's most popular controversies. I'm not talking about elections, who had the best Halloween costume, or if Santa really knows if you've been bad or good.

I'm talking about Uggs.

Before last year I had stood my ground, standing on the street with a sign, and shouting to everyone who would listen that these are the most ridiculous boots known to man, and would eventually cause the demise of society as we know it.

Around January I broke up with my boyfriend (for the second to last time, I'm sorry to say). I'm not sad, and I wasn't as sad as I could have been then. In fact, the only reason we were briefly together after that was because I needed him to get through a tough situation. Hey, sometimes a girl needs emotional support and chooses it in the wrong place. It had been a terrible off-on again relationship and, according to the ending expiration date, the relationship should have been growing mold and virus-curing bacteria. Metaphorically, I guess it was.

I did what all girls do after break-ups. I went out and bought things that would make me look phenomenal so he would know that I was always too good to be with him anyway.

One of the things I bought were a pair of Uggs. I wanted black, but they were out. The tan ones treated me so well that they were about to fall apart by the time I finally conceded and stopped wearing them.

Damn things were comfortable. And laces? Forget about it! Best decision ever. Plus I looked really good.

To see how I really feel about not being in this relationship, click here.

Telemarketing Was SO Last Week!

Today my topic of choice is:

Things that really bother me.

Specifically telemarketing.

Specifically textemarketing.

I'm not sure if that's ever been a coined phrase, but I don't really care. I am getting tired of receiving texts that say things like:

"You have been chosen! Text back now to receive your cash prize!"

"Kara, did you know that millions of people are making their living by sitting on their own couch? You too could make thousands of dollars a week by surfing the web and posting annoying unrelated ads on people's facebooks and blogs! Text **** to find out how!"

What if someone doesn't have unlimited texts? These jackasses are costing them money by sending them ads that will probably just screw them out of time and money anyway. And I feel like most people won't click on your post, which is how you get money in these scams, because they will be so annoyed that you interrupted their regular program of gossiping about the horrors of ex-boyfriends with a post about a face-wash that will probably give them more pimples.

Related to textemarketing, I hate election ads. Not only the ones on television (although those can be entertaining. I love slanderous politicians.). I'm talking about the pre-recorded messages that you have to listen to on your voicemail because the number was unfamiliar and you were hopefully smart enough not to answer (could be that horrible ex-boyfriend trying to terrorize you again).

I have my phone for my convenience. Not for others. I keep it on silent pretty much all the time so it is less of a deal than it could be, but I get a flare of anger that could give road rage a run for its money everytime I have to see one of these numbers on my phone.

Can You Hear Me Now?!

According to this article, "Belfast filmmaker George Clarke, a Chaplin fan, says he was watching the "behind the scenes of 'The Circus' " and was "stumped" at what he saw."

Hmmmm.....sounds intriguing. Let's take a look, shall we?

Oh my goodness!! Could it be?! Is it she?!

Could this be an honest to goodness time traveler?

Hell, if I were to travel through time I'd probably walk into a Charlie Chaplain movie too.

"Hey mom! MOM! Hello?! Okay, that's better. You'll never guess where I am. I said, YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHERE I AM!! No guess!! Alright. I'm on the set of a Charlie Chaplain movie. I said, I'M ON THE SET OF A.....hello? Hello?! Oh damn. The service here is just awful."

Wonder of the person had Verison?