I feel a little bit dead right now. Are you thinking “Lauren, how can you be a little bit dead”? Well, I’ll tell you. Don’t I always tell you? Being a little bit dead is when you see a little spec of light and instead of being drawn to it, you say “Eff that, I can feel my feet throbbing in my head. I’m not walking all the way over there”.
I think I mentioned this yesterday, but it’s Feast time again. For those who don’t know, a Feast is a seven, possibly eight (I temporarily forget) meal that we serve to the entire restaurant all at the exact same time. It’s intense. Today, I was the bartender. Are any of you seeing a little irony building here? Yeah... I don’t drink, I never have, I have no interest in drinking. Not beer, not cocktails, not wine. Although I have to admit, some wines do smell very good. So picture a clumsy girl, with her shirt falling out of her pants and her pants falling off her ass, attempting to figure out which booze is which (I'm the girl... shhhhh!). I got gin all by myself! I had a more difficult time with the rum. It’s not like Jack Sparrow cares! I’d have figured it out eventually... so I have to actually read the labels... carefully... It’s not like I never would have figured out that they are in fact different. One of them is goldish, the other is darker goldish and the other is clear.
I also learned how to make a Caesar. Woot me! Surprisingly, that didn’t take as long as I thought it would to sink in. I still remember how to do it. For the most part though, people order beer and wine. I know all the beers and wines we serve so I don’t frequently have problems. And customers never see how much I flounder otherwise because the servers bring their orders to me. I don’t talk to customers. Unless they want to know where the bathroom is...
Even so, there was still an obscene amount of flailing about on my part. Oh! And the reason my shirt kept falling out of my pants is because I have a long torso... go figure. I’m not extremely tall but I’m built like a tall person. So the shirt was a bit too short to actually keep tucked in. I guess you could add, “who was stuffing her shirt down her pants” to the sentence “Picture a clumsy girl, with her shirt falling out of her pants and her pants falling off her ass, attempting to figure out which booze is which”. That shirt did however have one upside. I was a little bit pleased with myself when I had to button the shirt aroung my 'bust area'. I was slow alright (coming up on 19), cut me some slack.
I have to say though, I LOVE working at the bar. It’s really fun!
That’s about all I have to say. I’m tired.