The DVD

It has come to my attention that Jillian Michaels the devil's trainer. I mean he has to be in pretty good shape to think he can battle God right? Seriously the bitch is crazy. I am in the middle of one of her work out DVD's screaming at her for "encouraging" me when it hits me. I don't actually have to do what she says. In fact I can turn her off I wanted. Oh if only I didn't desire to fit in my skinny jeans without sucking it in all night. It gets annoying when you try to do shots. What? You try holding your abs tight when you're slinging back tequila. Instead, I trudge on like a fat camp kid, going through the work out but dreaming of the extra piece of pie I am going to reward myself with for being so awesome. As I finish do I celebrate and congratulate myself for pushing through it? No. I think about how I will never have washboard abs because BevMo had a one cent wine sale and there is no way I can let that go to waste. But I am proud of the fact that I didn't throw the DVD out.
So why, you ask, am I home on a Friday night writing a blog at 9:18? I am blaming it on the fact that all the non practicing Catholics decided they would participate in Good Friday rituals and not eat meat tonight. Yeah, that's it buddy, you're going to Heaven because you gave up a steak and instead opted for lobster. I don't think I have ever seen the bar that empty before. You know the typical cricket chirps? I could hear the crickets thinking. (Hey! Hey! Look at this cool noise I can make! Hellllloooo, can you hear this?) A lot of our regulars showed up which was cool. Got to love people that insist on being made fun of by me because their lives are that devoid of interesting people. I love those people. I mean, how much more awesome can my job get? People give me money as I insult their slow drinking and comment on their graying hair. And yet they all love me. What I don't like are the people that show up and believe they are regulars, when really I have never seen them before in my life. Scenario:
Me: Hello Sir, what can I get you started to drink with?
Douchebag wanna-be VIP: Oh I'll have what I had last time, a MILLER LITE (emphasis on this as if he was saying, hey idiot, it's what I always get).
Well you know what, I do remember people that come in here. I know what it is like to be ignored (see The Bartender). But just because you wear a sports jacket with a bright colored button up shirt because you're not afraid of your "feminine side" with your ray bans on (by the way it is so dark in the restaurant that you need a flashlight to properly see the menu), does not make you better than your surrounding drinkers. You're in Mesa buddy, this isn't Scottsdale where only plastic parts get attention. Plus, you ordered a Miller Lite, there is nothing special about you or your drink; you mine as well have ordered a dirty water. The best part is when they leave me a $1 tip on $15. Wow, yeah I am really going to remember you the next time you come in - as the shitty tipper who will now never be a VIP. In fact from here on out, I will purposely pretend like I don't recognize you so you can scream Miller Lite at me and feel better about yourself.
Final Words: One of my regulars looked at me today and said, "Oh hey, that girl with the crazy hair actually brushed her hair. It's probably the second time I have seen it brushed...Looks nice." Pretty sure I peed my pants a little.