How Do I Learn To Let You Go?

A few months ago my apartment building was sold to a realtor in Kansas City. I chose this apartment initially because I felt that the company that owned it was genuine, which they were. I have had my doubts about this new company (I do not live in KC, by the way), finding them unorganized. I recently received a letter that made me feel like they were forcing me to go back to a lease instead of month to month. I still need to call them and attempt to work my charm, but I am left with a decision; do I finally pack up and move on like I have wanted to? It feels like the right time, but I am afraid of change, and I am sad about how this may affect my clients that I have worked so hard to gain their trust. Also, I hate moving. I'll have to pack my things and actually clean the damn place.

I spent so long moving apartments from year to year, and it has felt nice being in the same place for a prolonged period of time. I don't want to give that up, but I don't want to commit to staying here.

Advice from those who have been in the same situation?

Sounds Of Silence

I know it's been a long time since I've posted. Since I quit Shmupplebees I became conflicted on whether or not to blog about my other job (stupid HIPPA/mental health case manager by the way). But after almost almost a year and a half void of server stories, I definitely have other tales to tell that I cannot without breaking confidentiality. Do I bitch about my supervisor? Probably shouldn't. She's in charge of the fact that I work there and get a paycheck. Do I bitch about the clients? Maybe in an extremely vague way. Hmmmm. What to complain about.

Giving more soon, but why don't those of you that think bringing humor into the stress of my job is a wise decision leave me a comment to motivate (a case management term) me to bring on the stories.

P.S. If you vote for me to stay on the island extremely offensive jokes may ensue as mental health professionals need to get all of the crap piled on them out somehow.

Brought To You By The Letter B

Yesterday I went in to Shmupplebees and convinced one of my co-workers that I needed money more than she did, so she went home and let me have her shift. My first few tables used credit cards to pay their bills, which is fine with me because it takes less time than if they were to use cash. I would really prefer it if everyone would pay with cards. That way I don't end up with hundreds of dollars in my apron by the end of the night. About my fifth table in, the guy pulls out a fifty and places it on his ticket. Reassuring him that I will be right back with his change, I go up to the bartender to have him break it for me. He is extremely busy and I can see that the managers are in the office doing nothing but looking at porn and texting on their phones, so I asked them for change instead.

"So you didn't bring a bank, then?" the female manager asks me.

"I can neither confirm nor deny that statement," I reply. When you're about to get in trouble, always try to make your boss laugh. Then whatever you have done wrong won't be as big of a deal.

For those of you who don't know, a bank is twenty dollars of your own money that you bring to work with you. It is supposed to be split up into fives, ones, and an assortment of coins. Now, I only go to Shmupplebees when I am poor. If I have a spare twenty dollars I'm going to talk myself into buying beer and enjoying a night off, so needless to say I did not bring a bank. I really don't see the point in it anyway. It doesn't make it more convenient for me. If someone pays with a fifty on a ten dollar check I'm going to need it broken anyway. If a six-top pays separately, each handing me a twenty on their seven dollar tickets, that twenty dollars is not going to help me at all.

No, Shmupplebees manager, I did not bring a bank. I never bring a bank, and I will continue not bringing a bank. To me the bank is beer money, and I'm just here to get some more of it.

Skateboards and Hot Dogs

A very late happy Fourth of July to you all. While I have been working my ass off lately, I was able to take the day off and travel to Kansas City to see my family. Would I have rather spent the day playing Mario Kart and drinking beer? Perhaps. Did the multiple guilt trips from various family members help persuade me to make a different decision? Definitely.

I'm happy that I went. Much like I've been doing with this blog, I've been putting family and friends on a bit of a back burner so that I can spend between fifty and sixty hours a week working at Shmupplebees and for the Mental Health Center. I haven't seen most of them since February, and I haven't spent time with my grandparents since Christmas.

The person that I was the most excited to see was my niece, and she was outside when my oldest sister and I pulled up to my aunt's house. I got out of the car and walked closer to see her holding her wrist with large silent tears running down her face. She had been riding a skateboard and fell off, breaking her wrist. She went with my sister and my mom to the emergency room where they had to perform surgery on her. The poor girl missed the whole day.

We continued to eat, drink, and be merry at my aunt's house, getting updates through snapchat and text messages about my niece's status. At one point my grandpa stated that he hoped the poor thing was doing okay.

"She's drugged out," I replied. "She's having a better time than the rest of us are."

Thanks to the miracle of medicine, my niece was asleep the entire time she was in the emergency room. When they returned to my aunt's home around eleven, she was, in fact, drugged out. And quite adorable I may add. My sister said that when she woke up she yawned, blinked a couple times, and lazily said, "How long was I sleeping?" as if she was just taking an afternoon nap.

We stopped setting off fireworks as soon as they let us know they were returning from the hospital, so even though she had missed the entire afternoon, my niece ended up getting her own personal fireworks show. Everyone signed her cast, and she was filled up with food and attention.

So happy Twelfth Fourth everybody, and to the kid with the skateboard who let my niece ride it; you're on our list.

Why I Won't Return To Nashville

Well, blogger friends, the time has come...again. After a failed attempt to have a bachelorette party for Shmishelle due to the flu making us feel like we were dying for two days, we are hitting the road a short month later for some classy drunken fun.

Just in time, too. my last few weeks have included a funeral, in which I drove to Nashville and back with my family in three days, and tons of hours to make up for the road trip sponsored by my grandmother's not-so-untimely death.

My mental stability has not returned enough yet to go through the entire trip with you but let's look at some highlights just for some classy drunken fun.

• My sister singing Thrift Shop the entire trip. I'm not even going to describe this one to you. Just click on the link and listen to it thirty times in a row. Then imagine you have listened to it thirty-five more. I'm listening to it right now and am starting to have flashbacks.
• My 10 year old niece was the only one that actually behaved herself on the trip, and didn't throw some sort of tantrum. She was also the only one who was actually a child and would've had the only excuse you should to throw a tantrum. Being a child.
• We found out about the death and the funeral through a mass text. I also found out more information from facebook than I did through the text. My grandma died at 3am Tuesday, and the funeral was held at 1pm on Wednesday. The rest of my dad's family were already there so no one was inconvenienced. But us.
• Due to the sudden increase in quality time with my family I recharged my laptop every night and spent the car ride listening to my old cd's from high school.
• My computer was actually dead the last three hours of the trip. I just kept the earphones in and pretended like I was still listening to music so that no one would talk to me.
• Don't judge me, my sister was in the front seat pretending to be asleep.
• My niece is a tattletale. She told my mom that my sister and I were making fun of her on the way back from Kansas City. Just wait until the next time you stay at my apartment, little girl.
• When my mom told me about my niece tattling on us I simply replied, "You didn't make fun of us too? You know that's a good way to relieve pent up aggression, right?" As a side note, there may still be some social concepts that I don't understand.

So there you have it. My list of reasons why I am never returning to Nashville as long as I can help it. May your weekend be filled with family free fun, and lots of booze. I know mine will!



How Would Jesus Smell?

Well folks, the time of year to celebrate Jesus rising from the dead has come. Personally, I think it was a little inconsiderate of Jesus to rise up after three days of rotting away in a tomb. You know that he didn't bathe in the nearest river right away. No, he had a conversation with Mary Magdalene with his three-morning breath and let her kneel at his unwashed decaying feet. When he came to his followers none of them could even recognize him. That goes to show that not even the son of God can look good after a three day death nap. And Lazarus? He was dead for four days before Jesus decided that he could live a little longer. Don't know what kind of life that could have been afterwards. I've never tried to wash the smell of rotting flesh from myself, but I don't think that shit goes away.

I have difficulty connecting with the Easter story, because it just doesn't make sense to me. I understand the meaning behind it, and I grew up hearing it over and over again. As an adult, though, I have a tougher time believing in people just up and rising from the dead after days and being perfectly fine. I'd rather believe that the zombie apocalypse (which I slightly blame Jesus for starting) is going to occur than believe that people are randomly going to be able to die for three days, walk out of their sealed tomb, and go visit their friends like nothing happened.

"I don't remember the last time I've felt this rested! Praise my father!"

When it comes down to it I wasn't there so I can't say it didn't actually go down the way a bunch of old men who may or may not have been directly involved wrote it forty years after it happened. Maybe it did. If a seven foot tall bunny can break into my house and leave me a neon colored plastic basket filled with candy in the middle of the night without me noticing then maybe a guy can get sealed inside a tomb then rise up smelling like springtime and purity.

The Flu Cancelled My Plans

Well, my days in a row of lying on my couch watching Community non-stop have come to an end. I was supposed to go to a bachelorette party this weekend for Shmishelle, but she woke up with the flu on Friday and it had to be cancelled. Good thing, too, because when I woke up on Saturday I thought that I was on the brink of death.

I don't become sick that often so I am a huge baby when illness even thinks about walking past my door. This time I had the works; fever, runny nose, sneezing, coughing, and whining. Unfortunately, I live by myself and my cat really did not care, so I just complained to myself.

Since the maid of honor ended up getting sick on Saturday as well as Shmishelle and I, it is probably a good thing that we did not go out of town and pay just under a hundred dollars to sit around in a hotel room for two nights and hate the world. I am disappointed that the weekend did not turn out the way it was supposed to, but also am happy that when we do go it will be many degrees warmer and there will be no snow. Since we will be going to a winery, along with going to a dinner theatre and out for drinks afterwards, the warmer weather will make the trip much more enjoyable, although I do think we could have had a blast with a few bottles of wine and our friends in the hotel room if we had needed to. Plus, what better way is there to pretend you aren't sick than by getting just a wee bit tipsy?

What are some things that you did for your bachelor/ette party that were different than the norm?