1) As you know, I started my first official job over the weekend. Just when I thought I wasn't gonna complain about anything, here I am again, bitching to a friend of mine, about how small my eventual hourly rate is. My jaws dropped trillions of feet somewhere near jilted planet Pluto the very second I heard that the fat check I'm ever anticipating will only exist IF Mark Cuban decided to dine in and I got to serve him. Or someone else's billionaire character wouldn't mind throwing a big fat tip in exchange of friend mozarella sticks. Otherwise, I will be stuck with such a pathetic pay that could barely supply a car with gas.
The shit to memorize. How much are we getting paid again?
Or maybe I'm just thinking way too much (like I always do). Olivia convinces me that the pay wouldn't really be that bad since we'd be serving an average of 10 tables per hour. But what if I'm in the worst of days and nobody on those 10 tables spares me a single cent? I'm done? I get nothing? Nil? Nada? Zilch? I mean, it's unfathomable to me how someone can be so satisfied by working while only relying on occasional philanthropic aftermaths. I should know, I'm a customer who heartlessly disregards the tipping arena! But I'm giving Olivia a chance to materialize her theory. I will stay, enjoy the free/discounted meals and patiently try it out. But if things don't go my way, like they all should be, I'm quitting. Just like that. *snaps*
2) That film class I told you about was unfortunately snubbed by the students that they had to cancel it. They transfered me to another Humanities course just with a different specialization. Now I have to put up with a professor whose name I can't even pronounce and a class that will talk about Mozart, Houdini, the teenage mutant ninja turtles, and everyone else in between. Oh yay, fun! :-l
3) The junk is the lone American left in the French Open singles draw (men and women). She will be facing the two-time defending champion next so I'm not entirely confident that she wouldn't be the latest casualty to this national embarrassment from Paris. But who even cares about the French Open now? Nadal turned 21 today, he's finally legal, and we can already wed anywhere in the world! Yeee. Feliz Compleanos, Rafa! Te Quiero, whatever the hell that means. :-D
How can you not love? And cream? Ok, that's gross. But seriously! :-))
4) My schedule is inconveniently indefinite at this point. All I know is that I go to school for two hours, 4 days a week and I go to work for another 2-4 hours around dinner time. I have yet to schedule classes for driving (conquering freeway phobia 101) so this Tony guy called up to apparently ask when would be the best time to start the therapy. I could barely understand a word he's saying (he has a thick Indian accent) so I passed the phone to my mother who's seemingly BFFs with those people already. Since my schedule is pretty disoriented at this point, I could only take classes in the morning except this coming Tuesday. I clearly told her that, yet I still got yelled at. I supposedly "made her look like an idiot." I really didn't get that at all.
5) I didn't wanna get into a screamfest with her again so I just quickly left and shut my door. I have been through enough tears the past couple of days that I won't waste anymore Kleenex sobbing over this unworthy fight. I'm an extraordinarily irregular bleeding woman, which explains the seldom visit of that bestial torture. But when it rains, it POURS! (Warning: TMI ahead) I never use tampons, so obviously there's only a slight margin of time in between changes using pads (with wings). I had to call my father who's at work and ask him to buy me a new pack on his way home because I was padding the frantic passage every two hours and I'm running out of clogs!! I hate to ask my father to do things like that for me, but that's the same reason why he's the best father in the whole world! (He got me the maxi, with wings, and some bonus Midol. Now tell me, you'd kill for a father like that!) And as for my mother? She kind of lightened my condition with that disposable hot pack, but after that, I got nothing else. Plus, I should have been the one congested with PMS, not her!! Anyway, after three years of constantly living together, I've finally gotten used to moms. And they will always be moms. They're cursing at you one second, and they'll be shopping shoes for you the next.
6) Is it only me or The Finals suddenly became interesting? The Spurs are gonna win it, that's basic math. But I won't write the Cavs off just like I did to Miami a year ago. (Because that ate me up. Real bad) LeBron is proably one of the most overrated superstars this league has produced in years, but there's no question that his dignified All-Star doesn't deserve any doubt from anyone... for now, at least. I'll be surprised if they go out in a sweep, but I won't be shocked if Manu Ginobli, like the goregeous killer that he is, circusses his way around King James. Now we've got ourselves a show! Spurs in, well, 6.
7) But even if I'm whining about work, school, and my period, I'm nonetheless excited about the busier days ahead. Exactly a year ago, I was enjoying the pool, grilling something bacon-wrapped, and fattening my already fat ass on the kitchen couch. And look at me now? 15 pounds lighter, in school, with a job, and a heckling schedule ahead. Trust me, I really do hate it when I hear myself complaining, that it's even crazy when I tend to imagine that it could possibly be genetic. I know, that's just me, being awesome at excuses. So, to prevent another run at 'Randomgasms' stacked with complaints, I'll be working on a list of mid-year resolutions. I have jotted a few things down, bitching included, but I have yet to figure out what else negative is there for me to eliminate. Narcissism, perhaps? Help me out. It's your only chance. ;-)