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?

Don't Worry Neighbor, We'll Take You In

I remember being told about a restaurant commercial a couple years ago. This commercial was for a restaurant that I have never heard of and certainly don't work at. For the hell of it, we'll just call it Shmupplebees.

Apparently, in this commercial, all of the staff (servers, cooks, hosts, manager) were leaving work at the same time (because we know that everyone in the restaurant completes their closing work at the exact same time) with smiles on their faces. Smiles. Manager must have been giving his employees some adult happy juice during the shift.

Well, they are about to lock the door and a team pulls up, just having lost their (I'm assuming football) game. They look so dejected about sucking at their sport of choice not being able to enjoy the fine dining experience of Shmupplebees, that the staff immediately unlocks the door, fires up the grills, and changes the lives of these fine young gentlemen of society forever.

What the fuck?

Who made this commercial? This person has obviously never served before. Unless that team brought in a very large bottle of tequila, my ass would've been out of there hightailing it to the nearest bar.

My Choice of Movie Was Better

I was invited to go see Jackass 3D today.

I turned it down. I think it sounds stupid and I think those men are too old to still be farting on each other and kicking each other in the balls.

What did I do instead, you ask?

I went to go see The Social Network.

I'm kind of embarrassed to admit this. Also, I'm slightly embarrassed to admit that I liked it. Not a bad movie. Now I want to invent something that will make me a billionaire.

Maybe a cup that never runs out of alcohol....

Screw it. I'll just keep the box of beer within arm's reach.

Dumpster Diving Isn't Just For Used Furniture Anymore

Yesterday a baby was found in a dumpster right here in the city I live in. It was found wrapped in a plastic bag with the umbilical cord still attached, and still covered in blood, placenta, and whatever other baby fluids birth includes.

My roommate's sister knows a lot of people that work at the chain buy-all-you-could-ever-need-mart, we'll just call it Shwal-Mart. I guess one of the girls that works there was rumored to be pregnant, and showed up to work yesterday without a baby bump. My roommate's sister called the police and talked to them about it. She didn't want to turn the girl in unless she had seen for herself that she was no longer pregnant, so she told the police that she would go purchase a few things at Shwal-Mart and check it out for herself.

I don't know all the details, but apparently Shwal-Mart lady is guilty as sin, and will probably be in jail for a long time. Good.

For all those who are thinking that they just cannot handle having a child, there are other places to dump your baby which are much better than a dumpster. I know the name has 'dump' in it, but it's just not appropriate.

• In the woods. Don't worry, the animals will raise it as their own. It worked for Mowgli didn't it?
• At a nursery. There are other babies there for it to play with so it'll feel at home.
• In a basket. Push it down a river and it might end up royalty.
• In a tree-top. Be careful of the wind blowing; the cradle WILL rock.
• And, last but not least, at any health care facility, police station, fire station, etc. The safehaven law of Kansas states that a baby may be dropped off at any of these facilities within forty-five days of birth. No questions asked!

So, next time you feel like dumping a baby, don't be a freaking idiot. Dumpster dumping winds you in jail. Everyone will be mad at you. They WILL call the police. You should not be allowed to get pregnant. Seriously, you should be sterilized.

There are many ways to give up your child if you do not feel like taking care of it yourself. These ways are both socially acceptable and legal. I don't want to find the bun you took out of your oven next time I'm dumpster diving.

I [[Use]] BraCkEts And [[OdD]] Capatilization BeCausE [[I'm]] So [[AngRy]]!!

I've commented before on stupid facebook statuses. This one is from the same person that I talked about here.

I got on facebook and stalked glanced at my friends' statuses, and ran across this one:

"[[f*ck this]]....f*ck him.. ::f*ck her::.... [[⇒⇒f*ck you⇐⇐]] ....... [[f*ck it]]"

Well.... f*ck your life, I guess.

I think that's what she's trying to say at least. I didn't fully get the message. Maybe if she used 'f*ck' a few more times with a few more brackets I'd understand.

Your Server Is Probably Smarter Than Your Average Bear

I recently came across this site. It is called The Stained Apron, and is a place where servers and restaurant employees can submit their stories about their horrid experiences with, mainly, customers. I made my way to the Morons: Feedback From Idiots section and what I found absolutely appalled me.

Do people really think their servers are that big of idiots? I have been talked down to plenty of times during my years working at Shmupplebees, but I never realized the general consensus that the waitstaff are just a bunch of morons who will never do anything else with their lives.

People in this section left comments berating those who work in the service industry, more or less saying that they should realize that they are pretty much a servant to the general population, quit asking for money (even though it is well known that that is how servers EARN their income) and get a better job if it bugs them so much.

People who are serving tables are usually doing it to get through college. More than that, servers are also often people who have completed college but are having a tough time finding a job due to the crap-ol-a state of the economy. The person serving you could also be the person teaching your child during the day, but can't make enough money at that to live at the standard that they need to.

I just completed school, and have two degrees. You know what I'm doing with those degrees? I'm serving tables. Not because I'm an idiot, but because I can't, at this point, get a better job. And because I'm apparently good at kissing your ass in just the right spot to be able to pay my rent.

Visit this site. If you have never served before try to keep an open mind about what the staff at the establishment you are eating at might be going through. Of course they sound angry. Most people are treating them like dirt because they can't come to terms with the fact that the person they are viewing as their servant will most likely one day be their boss.

More Than Just A Cup Of Coffee

You may be soon able to get a delicious over-priced cold one at a Starbucks near you! No, I'm not talking about an ice-cold latte; I'm talking about a brewskey, a night-cap, a glass filled with the most magical feel-good liquid in the world. That's right, beer.

According to this article, Starbucks is testing the market in Seattle to find out if it will be lucrative to sell alcoholic beverages in their stores. Um....why the hell not?! Granted, given the history of Starbucks prices, you might end up dishing out a twenty in exchange for a pint, but you will look sophisticated doing it.

Yes, Starbucks, I will take my brew and look classy too. Thank you. Adieu.

Round Two; Fight!

Last night I picked up a closing shift for my roommate. She had had a few too many celebratory birthday drinks (even though I was only a few behind, if even that), so I helped her out and went in to work for her. I was happy to know that I was in the closing section that got to go home first, and spent the slow-ass night standing around while I waited on one or two tables at a time.

At the end of the night I did my closing sidework and left. I got gas, cigarettes, and then chain-smoked my way back into happiness on the drive home. After getting out of my uniform and into normal clothes I looked at my phone, which had been on silent. This is the text I received from one of the other closers:

"Hey kara about u come back in...pick UR Shit up off table 30 and to bev like its suppose to be done...thanks"

Um...Hey 'name rhymes with Shmam', why don't you learn how to use grammar, capitalization, and punctuation properly. Also UR is not a real word. Maybe if it stands for 'underlying reason', or I have a stick stuck 'Up my Rectum'. I think the last one makes more sense.

After arguing with my manager over text for a little bit, I had the bartender put my pitcher of delicious and well-needed beer in the fridge and skipped my ass back to Shmupplebees. He had made it sound like such a big deal; like I had lit my section on fire and called it good for the night.

I got there and this is what I essentially did; I filled ONE salt shaker, ONE pepper shaker, and dumped ONE pot of coffee.....  I also had apparently left a broom in my section, which Shmam huffily informed me. I went to my section, looked around for a minute, and became thoroughly confused because I didn't see anything that resembled a broom, except for maybe the fact that the furniture was made out of wood as well. I asked another server where it was, and she pointed to it. It was now in another section, pretty sure it was being used to clean said section up, but still not in my section anymore. Whatever. I was told to put the broom away. I walked over to it, picked it up, and took it all the way to the back so the server would have to go get it again.

Oh, I also took my TWO plates that I had completely forgotten about to the back as well.

When I was done, my manager got off his phone, actually got off his ass and came out of the office. He looked at me sheepishly, grimaced/apologetically smiled, and said 'sorry', I wasn't the one that was mad about it.

Whatever Shmony. You're the manager. Grow some balls.

Why Can't You Have Your Cake And Eat It Too?

Yesterday was my roommate's birthday. She also happens to be one of my good friends, so I spent the day scurrying around town trying to find her a purple shower curtain to feed into her unnatural obsessions with this horrid color. Seriously, I think that purple was sent to earth by the devil to make people so crazy at the sight of it that they would react by doing things that would land them in hell. Sorry, officer. I just saw that awful color and found myself going on a killing spree because of it. Chalk one soul up for the side of evil.
BUT...I love my roommate so my gift to her was, essentially, a purple bathroom. I ended up getting her purple towels which are now hanging up reminding me what a mistake I might have made.
After I found these, I made a cake. This is important because we had a small party and one of the most common phrases I heard were; "Happy Birthday," and, "I'm going back for more cake." Hey, it made me feel pretty damn good. I am what you would call a minor attention whore. I like a LOT of credit for things I do. I live off of people laughing at my jokes and telling me that the food I made is so good they are never ever again going to eat anything else that is not cooked by me. Seriously, people have starved to death because they just can't stand the taste of anyone else's food after tasting my cooking. And I eat it up everytime. (Ha ha.....ha.........ha........ok, sorry. I couldn't resist)
Also, I have a tiny apartment, so I ended up having party A.D.D. Just traveling between the kitchen, living room, and porch to get away from all the people packed in my personal bubble/space. It was entertaining to see who I could get to go with me on my ten foot adventures each time, though.

If Stealing An Apple, You Might As Well Steal the Caramel Too

I went to Wal-Mart yesterday because I wanted Avatar. It is a great movie. Watch it.

I went there with my sister and my mom's credit card in my wallet because she wanted me to purchase it on Blue-Ray for her. Apparently no one has it right now because they are about to re-release it on a three disc set. My life was momentarily ruined and I had to sit there and listen to my sister try to talk to my mom on the phone about what else to get.

Side-note: I. Hate. Wal-Mart.

After sitting there for what felt like an eternity in care-bear heaven (my personal hell) We finally made our way to the check-out line. The woman checking us out obviously did not feel like her life was up to par, because she was a Biatch. She rang up the four movies we were buying, and handed my sister the bag. I had my card in my wallet next to my mom's, and they look very similar except for the fact that mine has no money on it. I swiped the card once; it was denied. I swiped it again after telling her to put back all the movies but one; it was denied. I looked in my wallet, blushed, fumbled around while trying to switch the cards out, and told her to ring up all of the movies again. She did. I paid. I signed.

At this point she looked at me and asked if this was my card.

Me: "No, it's my mom's."

Evil Lady: "You need to have your mom's I.D. to be able to use it."

Me: "I don't even have my I.D. I've never had a problem with using this before."

Evil Lady: "Well it won't accept the signature unless you have the person's I.D."

Me (staring at the screen, confused): "It says right here that it accepted the signature."

At this point she huffily called over a manager. He came over and she explained the situation to him. He asked if the merchandise had already been paid for, and she scoffed and gestured towards the receipt that was laying, with the card, on top of the movies that she had demanded back from my sister.

He informed her that there was nothing they could do, and looked like he didn't give a shit anyway about the situation. He cocked an eyebrow in her direction, handed me the card, and lazily said, "I guess next time just have your mom call or something," shrugged his shoulders, and walked off.

The checkout lady then put our movies into a tiny bag, and asked my sister for the larger, more convenient bag back. My sister said she could just put the miniature bag in the normal one, but the woman insisted, saying "I can just use it for another customer!"

What I got out of this, aside from the already-known-fact that Wal-Mart is a horrible void in space and time, is that if I ever choose to steal someones credit card, I need to make sure that I steal their identification as well so that it will be legal.

Guest Number Four Needs More Party Mix!!!!!

I remember when I was little, maybe fourth grade or so, my mom threw me a birthday party. She made me invite everyone in my class so that no one felt left out. Now, I don't know how much you know about children, but they don't always get along; much like you might not get along with some of the people that are forced into your life today.

Well, here we were, tons of other people at my house all to celebrate the birth of yours truly. I just wanted a small party, something that still stands with me today for the most part. There were several people there whom I would rather have stayed at home, but I had to entertain them none-the-less; and when I say entertain them, I mean that my mom told me I had to make sure everyone had a good time.

At one point in the party, in which I was grudgingly talking to everyone making sure they were doing okay, one of my friends got hit in the face with a basketball or something. I was in the bathroom trying to make sure that SHE was okay, and my dad came in and yelled at me for ignoring my other guests.

This parallels to EXACTLY what I have to do at my job now.

Is it any wonder that I became a server?