I worked another double shift today (Sunday 5/4).  I wasn’t planning on doing it, but I picked up for Miz J this morning because she helped me out Thursday night.

The drawback (or so I initially thought):  I was to work in the dining room, and I did work in the dining room.  After almost 3 and a half hours of sleep, I managed to get up and motivated this morning and actually got to work on time.  They didn’t even have me on the floor plan in the dining room at first, so after remaking it and being forced into our “raised dining” area (seating that’s a few steps higher than the rest of the dining room, mainly for parties but has some booths), I was ready to start my shift.

My first table was a party of 6, a couple of grandparents and an aunt, and three little girls.  One of the girls was celebrating her 12th birthday, so I just couldn’t help but to have a bit of fun with them.  The grandparents and her aunt were a little bland with no personality but the girls were having fun.

The birthday girl, a little bit of a chubby girl, seemed a bit embarrassed to talk to me for some reason, so I had to open her up.  First thing out of my mouth when I found out it was her birthday was, “So you’re 16 today?  When are you going to take your driving test.”  That got her giggling and blushing, and from there we had fun.  She let me know it was her 12th birthday and she and her sister were visiting her grandparents and aunt, and her aunts adopted daughter.  I got their orders in, and I found out that even though our kids cheeseburger is just that, a plain cheeseburger with fries, people still let me know that they want a “plain cheeseburger”.  What I didn’t know about a plain cheeseburger is that it has no cheese.  That makes it a hamburger people!

After I got the orders in, Birthday wanted to open her presents.  Grandma told her she had to have my permission first.  “Can I?  Can I?”  she asked, all kinds of excited and making me remember what it was like to be a kid.  “Nope, not yet,” I replied, which she pointedly ignored.   I left them to the presents, and went about my business.

I kept making her blush throughout the meal, and even though one of the cheeseburgers was supposed to be a hamburger that I was supposed to telepathically pull from their heads, I still made 28 bucks from them.  It was a total of 70 bucks between the two checks, and I was completely surprised.  Before they left, Birthday girl came up and hugged me, and wanted to take a picture with me.  First table of the day and I was blushing.

I had a few filler tables before the other servers came in, and then I was in my boring section.  I had two tables total in my actual section, one a party of 7 and one of them a couple from out of town.  The couple came in while I was on break, and waited until I got there to get anything from the bar.  As usual, I made the lady blush by asking if she was really old enough to drink.  Clearly, she was at least in her 30’s, but it’s nice to see them smile sometimes.  She was so happy when I suggested a chocolate martini, she’d never heard of one.  They promised to come see me before they went home.

The next party, the 7 top, was a bunch of young 20’s guys and girls.  I went up to them like I do everyone else, happy and fun.  They got a few drinks from the bar, and I managed to convince them to get appetizers.  I wasn’t too happy that it was only 7 people, figuring that they were young and I wasn’t getting a tip without gratuity, but I made the best of the situation.  I stayed up there talking to them, and that’s when I learned that this group comes in every couple of weeks or so.

Not getting into the details of making sure they had drinks full, and making sure everything was right the entire time while actually asking how they were and what they did for work, I learned a few things from this table.  Along with the fact that they come in a lot, I learned that they’ve never eaten in the game room or bowling alley, only in the dining room.  It’s always the same 7 people that come in, some work together, but they’re all really good friends.  Two couples, and three singles.  They’ve been friends since childhood apparently.

I learned that when they eat in the dining room, the servers don’t really care about them.  It’s always taken them forever to get refills, their food doesn’t come out right sometimes, they get rude and unfriendly service all the time.  They told me over and over how wonderful my service was, how nice I was, how great I was.  Talk about an ego boost.  They enjoyed my service, as opposed to the normal dining room servers.  They never knew that they could eat in our game room or bowling alley (where I normally work) and after telling my management how good I was and how happy they were compared to their normal visits, they promised to try and find me every time they come in.  I was really touched for some reason, maybe because coming from them it didn’t sound as hollow as most of the game room guests I get that say they’ll come back and never do.  Don’t get me wrong, I have my regulars but I have a ton of people who say they’ll be regulars and never come back.  It touched me that these people asked me to sit with them and have lunch, and wanted to know how my day was.  It touched me that they also took pictures with me, just like Birthday Girl did, and that the ladies hugged me and the guys shook my hand.  Almost makes me miss working in a dining room setting full time.  It also concerned me a little, because I was just doing what I normally do when I serve, and they were so impressed.  Are my dining room servers really that unfriendly?  Are they really so lazy as to not take an empty glass when they bring a new one?  I’ll be investigating this further as I pick up extra shifts in the front.  (they also tipped me fabulously, 50 bucks on 130)

Another table that made me happy today was on the 2nd half of my shift, when I was back in my home, the game room.  There was a family that came in, Dareeta the Mother, Jamario the son, LaGordon the other son, and Thompson the Father.  It was their first time, they were from Kentucky.  At first, when I saw Dareeta (real name) with gold on top and bottom of her mouth, I prejudged.  I won’t lie.  I thought they’d be trouble, especially when Dareeta was on her phone and LaGordon had his ipod on during the first half.  However, I took the time to talk to them.  I got Dareeta a bottle of white zin, and just treated them like normal guests.  Like my party earlier in the day, they wanted me to sit with them and eat.  They smiled, they laughed.  I got Dareeta and Thompson on the DDR game before they left.  They tipped almost 20 bucks on a 90 dollar bill, and thanked me for making their “first expurrince” at our restaurant a great one.

Then we come to the stupid.  We have the stupid Ribeye who overserved an older guy to the point he fell asleep standing up with a pool cue in his hand.  I was scolded for it, but nothing else because I got them a cab home.

The last table of the night was the only one that really pissed me off.  It was a group of ghetto young adults, none over 26.  One girl, pregnant, her name Sheleetia, had a look on her face like she had something shoved up her ass the wrong way.  Her boyfriend, LaSamuel, had tats all over his arms and fake gold all in his mouth.  The other couple, Lasquanda (the only nice one of the group) and her boyfriend, a big fat stupid son of a bitch corn row having bastard named Jearl.

I didn’t think they were going to eat at first, until they came up to me and Jearl says, “You who we orda da foo from?”

“Well, yes, if you’re sitting at the tables.  I’m the only one here right now, so I’m not serving the games tonight.”  So they sit at a table.  I get over there, and after 10 minutes of explaining that our lemonade is just pink and not strawberry, I finally get drink orders from three of them.  Jearl, however, is having issues ordering his drink.

“Ya’ll juice get free refill?”  I tell him no, that I have to charge full price for each glass.  “Ya’ll gots appa juice?”  I once again have to answer in the negative, which brings the following question.  “If ya’ll got dat appa mahtini, why ya’ll ain’ got appa juice?”
“Because the apple martini is made with apple pucker, not apple juice.”  I then have to remind him about 8 times that the juices are not free refills.

They finally order food, after changing the menu to suit their wants.  Jearl orders a chicken alfredo.  While they’re waiting (this is 30 minutes before kitchen closes), he takes every opportunity to yell at me wondering where his foods at, all the while throwing out what I learned to be “Crip” signs with his hands.  I don’t know one gang from the next, but one of my cooks set me straight.  Fuck if I care about a Crip, I only care about a tip.  After 10 minutes of his badgering me about his food, I was forced to tell him, “It’s cooking, when it’s done, you’ll be eating.  I can’t make the grill cook any faster,” and walked off.  Their food finally comes out after 16 minutes, which is good for that time of night.

Jearl waits until he’s finished half of his pasta before he asks me for “some mo’ of dat sketty sauce dat’s on dis.”  Then he gets pissed off that I have to charge for it.  It takes about 6 minutes to come out, and that pisses him off even more.  He starts demanding free dessert for his long wait, after I warned him it’d take a bit of time to get the sauce because the kitchen is about to close and they do the alfredo in a skillet making it take longer.

“You’re not getting any free dessert, you’re still eating your food.”

“You ain’ da managah is you?  Get da managah ovah here, we see what day give me.”  Manager S the Fibromyalgiapod comes by, and takes the food from him.  No free dessert, but has the kitchen recook his pasta and send it to go.

Check time.  Jearl’s check was 40.66 and the other couple was 20.79.  Jearl gives me 40.20 and tells me to keep the change.  “Sir, you still owe me 46 cents so there is no keeping the change here.”  He counts out another 20 cents, and starts to walk off.  “Are you going to pay the correct amount of your bill or what, sir?  Can you not read what the price says?”  Maybe I struck a nerve there, but he started getting pissed off.  “Never mind, sir, that damn quarter ain’t hurting my pocket any.”  I knew he wasn’t going to tip when he didn’t even pay the right amount.

All in all, except for the last table of the night, I had a really good double.  You all also got to see the reasons that I do enjoy my job in this post.  I don’t always have people that piss me off, and today was one of those days.  It’s rare that more than one group a week makes me feel good, but to have three in one day make me feel awesome, make my head grow even larger, and make me blush is unheard of.  Those three groups made me happy at work for a change, their tips sure helped, but even had they tipped 12% I’d have still been happy with them.

See, serving isn’t all bad!  And some of you wonder why I still do it.

Ribeye

I’ve been reading a lot of medical blogs lately, as always, and I’ve come to wonder something.  In most of my favorites, there have been mentions about the infamous “Fibromyalgia” illness that seems to be catching like the dumbass has here in Nashville.  I have family that have the “illness”, I have a supervisor with the “illness”, and I’ve met people with the “illness”.

My question about Fibromyalgia (or however the hell you spell it) is this:  Have any of you met a male patient with Fibromyalgia?  Are there any male Fibromyalgia sufferers out there?

Each link above is to a different website of Fibromyalgia resources.  Coming below are some of my favorite medibloggers Fibromyalgia posts!

“Happy Fibromyalgia Awareness Day” with Musings of a Highly Trained Monkey!

“Fibromyalgia Gone Wild” at Crass-Pollination with Nurse K.

“When the Body Attacks Itself” at madness: tales of an emergency room nurse!

“Just Questions” at The Angriest Pharmacist!

“The Bizarro ER” at Ten out of Ten!

This whole post goes out to you guys and gals above, you who blog and make me happy when I come home from work….

Be well, and don’t be overwhelmed by the fibromyalgiapods….and don’t forget to answer my question!!!!!  Do you have male fibromyalgia patients???

Ribeye

Yes, you saw it here first.

This is the tale of two men, a little girl, a manager, and a helpless server caught in the middle.

Your very own Ribeye was standing at the Micros, putting in an order when suddenly, this semi-tall weird looking man in his late 40’s comes running up to the bar, yelling at the top of his lungs, “HEY, HEY!  I NEED YOUR HELP, I’VE BEEN ASSAULTED!”  I looked up, seeing that the old guy wasn’t swelling up or anything like that, and went back to my order.  He kept yelling.

I finished ringing in my tables food, and started to walk off when the old guy grabbed my arm.  Now, I want you all to imagine Mr. Garrison from South Park, as a human.  That was this guy.   He grabs my arm and pulls me around, and with some really bad breath, yells into my face, “CAN YOU HELP ME?  I’VE BEEN ASSAULTED!  I NEED THE COPS!”

I didn’t really know what to say except for, “Will a manager do?”  I call a manager on the radio, and turn back to the guy.  “What happened?” I asked.

“I was playing a game and my niece asked me what ‘Fuck You’ meant.  She’s 6 years old!  She was pointing to that guy over there’s shirt!  I said something to him and he told me ‘Tell her it means to fuck off, and if either of you bother me again I’m gonna nail you!’  I was assaulted!”

The manager came by and talked to the guy.  Apparently, old guy wanted us to get the young guy with the offensive shirt out of the building.  Manager J with the Backbone tells Mr. Garrison that there’s nothing we can do, it’s a free speech issue.  Garrison doesn’t like this, and he and another friend of his walk off.

Maybe 15 minutes later, I’m out on the game room floor taking care of another guest, and I finally see the shirt in question.

I really want one of these shirts by the way.  I also see Mr. Garrison and his friend getting up in the owner of the shirt’s face.  I don’t pay much attention to it until I try to card the guest I’m talking to, and suddenly, I’m bombarded.  “MAKE HIM TAKE THAT GODDAMNED SHIRT OFF RIGHT NOW, RIBEYE, IT’S OFFENDING ME!  THIS IS A FAMILY ESTABLISHMENT, I BRING MY NIECE HERE ALL THE TIME.  WHY AREN’T YOU TAKING THAT SHIRT OFF OF HIM?!  I TOLD YOU TO TAKE IT OFF OF HIM!  DO IT RIGHT NOW!”  As he’s yelling at me, he’s literally less than an inch from my face.  This sets me off.

“Sir, if you don’t get the fuck out of my face and stop yelling at me, I’M going to be the one to lay you out in the floor!  You need to take a few steps back, RIGHT NOW!”

“HIS SHIRT IS OFFENDING ME, IT’S JUST PLAIN RUDE!  I DEMAND THAT YOU TAKE IT AWAY FROM HIM AND MAKE HIM LEAVE!”  About that time, Manager J walks up again, and asks if there’s a problem.

“YOU NEED TO MAKE RIBEYE TAKE THAT SHIRT AWAY FROM HIM!”  How the fuck did I get dragged into it other than asking what happened in the beginning?  I still haven’t figured it out.

“I can’t make him remove his shirt, it’s a First Amendment Right.”

“NO IT’S NOT!  THIS IS A FAMILY RESTAURANT!”

“Wrong, this is an 18 and up restaurant and bar, and if you’re that worried, you shouldn’t be bringing your niece here in the first place.”  He escorted Mr. Garrison and his friend out of the building for making a scene.  Later, he comes up to me and Mr. S, one of my cocktail comrades, and shakes our hands.  “It’s my last night, it’s been fun working with you.”  Apparently, Mr. Garrison said that by the time he was done, Manager J would no longer be working for our company.

We went to Manager J the Impartial after that and said, “Since this is Manager J the Backboned’s last night, can we have some key hourly shifts and move up the ladder a bit?”

Does that shirt really offend people to the point of losing their tempers, or was this person just a fucking nutcase?  I wanted to throttle this old man.  What makes the whole thing worse is that according to all the guests who were in the area, there was no niece with the old man.  Manager J said there was no niece when he escorted Garrison out.  The old man wanted to start some shit, and chose a guy with a cool shirt who was minding his own business playing games to start his shit with.

I hate people sometimes.

Ribeye

Powerful isn’t it!  Or not.  Tonight, I almost felt bad for all the “no’s” I had to utter…and shout.

It all started with a nice little old couple and their mentally challenged teenage son.  I tried everything I could for them, and in the end, they were happy and tipped me 20%.  It was a little iffy though, at least in my eyes.

“Hey there guys, how are you today?”

“We’re doing well, thank you, how are you?”  The gentleman replied, his name was Phillip.

“I’m doing great, thank you for asking!”  I replied.  This guy and his wife were turning out to be pretty fucking nice from what I could see.

“You’re welcome, sir, not many people care how others are doing these days.”  The old man was nice, but had to be cut off before he went into one of those over middle aged rants.

“It’s nice when people ask, most people just don’t care as long as I bring their food out to them quick.  Speaking of, can I bring the two of you some drinks?  It’s happy hour if you’d like something from our bar.”  His wife ordered a Cabernet Sauvingon  (spelled wrong I’m sure, but I suck at wine service and know nothing about wines in general).  Phillip on the other hand was a little more difficult.

“Have you got flavored lemonade?” he asked.  “No, sir, I’m sorry.  We only have regular lemonade.”

“I see…do you have tea?”  he asked.  “We have sweet and unsweet, fresh brewed tea.”  “Do you have fruit teas?”  “No, sir, I’m sorry.  Only the sweet and unsweet.”

“I see…have you got fruit punch?” he asked, looking a little frustrated.  “I’m sorry sir, but we only have lemonade and a few juices.”

“Do you have orange juice?”  “Yes sir, but it’s not free refills.”  “Give me half orange juice and half sweet tea.”  “Right away sir.”

I get their drinks, and come back.  “Have you guys had enough time to look over the menu?  Any questions about anything?”

“Can I get the ribs with broccoli and cheese?”  Phillip asked.  I tried not to let out a sigh, knowing that my answer would upset him.  “I’m sorry sir, but we don’t offer broccoli and cheese here.”  He grunted.  “How about a baked potato?”  “I’m very sorry sir, but we only offer a few side items here.”  I proceeded to name the few side items we have.

“Can I get those ribs with a cup of vegetable soup?”  “I’m sorry sir, but we only offer one soup choice at this location.”   I finally got him to settle on a side of green beans with his ribs.  His wife ordered a chicken parmesan dish, and cheesesticks for the son.

I almost regretted my next question.  “Would you all like to start with an appetizer today?  Perhaps some spinach dip or an order of buffalo wings?”

“Can we get an order of shrimp cocktail?”  I guess he thought he was in a high class eatery sitting in my game room.  “I’m sorry sir, we don’t offer shrimp cocktail here.”

“Do you have quiche?”  Yes, he really does think he’s in a high class restaurant.  “No sir, I’m sorry.  Can I perhaps get either of you a house salad?”  “No, we’ll just take our food.”

Fast forward to after the meal.  “Can I tempt you all with dessert today?”  I ask, making a couple of suggestions.  “Have you got a hot fudge cake sundae here, or some lemon meringue pie?” At this point, I’m thinking the table is a lost cause, despite his attitude during the meal being pretty good.  They did end up tipping me well though, and he didn’t blame me for the shortcomings of the restaurant.

Some of the other “no’s” I was forced to deal out tonight:  “Can I get a free refill on Irish coffee?”  “No, ma’am.”

To the couple trying to exit into the mall after the mall was already closed.  “You can’t go out those doors, I’m sorry.”  “But we is pahked on dat side.”  “I’m sorry, but we can’t let anyone out those doors after the mall closes.”  “Can’t you just watch us walk across?”  “No.”

“Did you find my phone ovah heah?”  “No, ma’am.”

“Do ya’ll do anythin fa burfdays?”  “No.”

Sometimes, I really do enjoy telling people no, especially when they’ve pissed me off enough.  Tonight, most of the people hadn’t even bothered me at all, so I felt a little bad having to tell them no over and over and over again.  Oh well, there’s always tomorrow (Saturday, the 1st aka, today) for a bit of drama….after all… I’m working a double and I believe I’m working with the lazy one, aka, the Hawk.  We’ll see.

Come back later and find out!

Ribeye

You all know how close I am to being over it at my job, well tonight, I almost walked out the door.

First three tables of the night were nice people.  Two were families, one was a guy and his girlfriend on a date.   I had a great time with all three of them.  I got two of the tables to get dessert, the one with the kids got chocolate cake and cheesecake, both with ice cream, running up a grand total of 67.14 on their bill.  The other one got cheesecake too.

The 2nd table, the one with the singled out cheesecake, the couple on their date, had a slight issue with dessert.  The girl had an allergy to almonds.  The girl didn’t bother asking me about any nuts in her dessert, nor did she tell me about her almond allergy, else I’d have told her to just avoid all the desserts completely as they all have a potential allergy warning on them.   While she didn’t actually start swelling up, she started feeling sick to her stomach, and I was worried that I’d killed someone.

Grand Total?  48.52.  They gave me 51.52 and told me to keep the change.  3 bucks on table number 2.

Finally, we have the two sisters and their daughters who were out for a night of shopping and fun.  I flirted with the sisters, a middle aged pair of beautiful black women, and gave the daughters free games.  I got the sisters a couple of drinks after flattering them about their ages.  Their total?  47.82.  They gave me 52.00 and told me to keep the change.  4.18 total.  10 bucks in 2 hours, from 5pm till 7pm.

I made about 15 more bucks in the next hour and a half, and then the ghetto trash black women and He-Ra, their ghetto trash black Tranny decide they’re going to come in and fit their ugly asses into a 4 top booth (there were six of them).

When I walked up to the table, there were only 3 of them.  One looked to be about 50 or so, one looked to be about 22, and one looked like an amazon, my height (6′4), skinny, plenty of weave of a deep orange/red color, and a skin tight gold/brown outfit on.  Ugly as sin the amazon was, and you’d think that one was the tranny.

“Good evening ladies, is this everyone in your party or have you got more coming?”  I ask, trying to be in a good mood despite the bad tips I’ve gotten so far.

“Der gon’ be six uh us,” Amazon Andranettie answers.  Her real name I’d find out later was Chanel.

“Have you already stopped in our dining room, this table is going to be a tight fit for six people.”

“We gon’ sit heah, why?  You don’ wanna wait on us?”  Old Orthapedia asks.

“I’m just trying to make sure you are all comfortable, ma’am.  Would you like…”

“Jus’ come back when da ress of ouah grou get heah.” Chanel tells me.  I go on to the next table to prebuss it and go back to the service station to wait.  A few minutes later, the rest of their group shows up.  I go back to the table.

“Now that you’re all here, my name’s Ribeye, and I’ll be taking care of you this evening.  Are you all going to be on one check tonight?”

“We ain’ know yet, we nee a frew minute.”  The girl speaking is sitting right next to Chanel, and she’s got a slightly deeper voice than most women.  She looked to be about 22 years old.  She was a bit shorter than the amazon, and had in some blonde weave laced with red.  Ugly ugly gold glittered spike heels on, which immediately made me think Hooker, where’s the pimp at.

I give them a few minutes before I go back to the table.  When I finally get back, I don’t even have a chance to speak before they start ordering drinks.  “I’m gon’ have ______ Margarita.”  Amazon tells me.  “Can I see your ID please?”  The ID question is repeated 3 times, as people just don’t want to get it out and ready, or they don’t think I’m going to card them.  The girl sitting next to Chanel tells me she doesn’t want anything, as does the last girl at the table, a quiet girl I’m going to call Fran.

When I get back with the drinks, the girl by Chanel tells me she wants the same drink Chanel got.  “I’m going to need to see your ID please.”  I tell her.  She pulls it out, and it’s a TN ID card with the name Chanel on it.  Chanel had already given me a drivers license, and I didn’t remember the last name on it.  The picture looked more like the Amazon Chanel than the short girl.  “This is a little weird, ladies, this ID has the same name as the one you gave me,” I say, pointing at Amazon Chanel.

“Da descripton diffrent.”  she says, and being that I’m in a hurry, I don’t think much about it.

I get Chanel #2’s drink, and go back to the server station.  Mr. N comes up, and informs me that he’s served my party before, and that Chanel #2 is a cross-dresser.  I remember him telling me about this person a few weeks ago when He/She/It was in there, and I started thinking about something.  I got Manager S the Feminine over, and told her about what happened.  We talked about the ID situation for a minute, and it was decided that I was going to go and check the ID of both Chanel’s at the same time.

Flash forward to me going back to the table.  “Ladies” I begin, looking at Amazon Chanel and Chanel #2, “Something’s been bugging me since I saw your Id’s, and just to clear it up, I’m going to need to see them both again so I can look at them side by side.  Something just doesn’t add up, because they both had more or less the same picture on it, and the same first name.”

“You done seent em once already.”  Chanel #2 says, looking pissed off.  “We ain’ gettin dem out again.”

“I’m sorry to be rude, ma’am, but if you don’t let me see your ID again, I’m going to have the manager come and take all the drinks from the table.”

“Why you gotta see dem fo?”  Tatarethia asks, heretofore a silent figure.

“In all honesty, I believe that one of them has passed off an ID to the other, and that’s illegal.”

“Well day ain’ gotta brang dem out fa you, day aready got day dranks so day cain’ get in no troubah.”

“Yes, they can, if they don’t show me the ID.”

“You need ta brang out ouah checks den, and cancel ouah food.”

Grabbing Chanel #2’s and Amazon Chanel’s drinks, I reply, “Right away ma’am.”

“What da hell is you doin?” Tatarethia asks again, reaching out to grab my hand.

“I told you, if I don’t see the ID, they don’t get to drink.  If you don’t let go of my hand, you’ll not finish your drink either!”

“Brang ya’ll managah ovah heah, you gon’ pay fa dis!”  Tatarethia tells me, her fist shaking as she let my hand go.

I get Manager S the Feminine to the table, and they proceed to tell her that Chanel #2 doesn’t have her ID on her, and that I let them all drink.  She was told by the bitches that I didn’t card any of them, in an attempt to get me fired.  Too bad the manager knows that I value my job too much to let someone slide.  I missed the ID pass off, which was on me. However, I did catch it before more than a couple of sips were taken, and they didn’t get any of the drinks free.  As they were getting up, I heard one of them calling me a “Snaggletooth Cracka”, which gave me the idea to take the rest of the drinks from them.  They bitched because I didn’t bring back every penny of their change, literally 4 pennies total on 3 checks.   That made me wonder if perhaps Springs is a black woman in Nashville…..

I then noticed that Chanel #2 had an Adam’s Apple, and a quite noticeable bulge in her skirt….Mr. N was right, she WAS a he.

I’ll damn sure recognize this ugly black tranny next time it comes in, and that mother fucking fake titty wearing cocksucking flaming dress wearing coke snorting crack smoking methhead weave wearing cunting whore better watch the fuck out because my foot is going right into it’s nuts.  It was quite obvious that this tranny is NOT a post op yet, and I’ll cause some pain.  Fucking piece of shit trying to get me fired!  Had it been a manager that hasn’t seen me work forever and didn’t know how rigid I am about ID’s, I probably would have been fired on the spot, especially since it’s a corporate place.  Justice prevailed though.

They were also informed that if any one of them were caught drinking on the premises again, they would be reported to the police for using false identification to obtain alcohol, and summarily arrested.  Fuck them and they boats they sailed in on, I hope all six of them get beaten by their pimp and are buried alive.  I hate it when I’m threatened like that.

Fucking whores.

Back tomorrow,

Ribeye