I suck. I am the worst waitor ever. If I had me as a waitor I would hate me and would want to leave a measely tip but wouldn't cause I'd feel bad. But yes, I suck. I'm slow, don't know what side comes with what or what sauce is stuffed in what blah blah blah. I don't know how to use the computer system, how to cash out. Yeah, I'm sure they see right through my 'experience'.

Today, I did learn that lesbians like Berenger wine and Coors Lite. And that they tip badly. Note to those nice lesbians out there who tip well: this is just information that was handed to me by my supervisors.

I got the job! I really do feel badly about lying on the application but they barely glanced at it. They said they were just really looking for people that would 'fit in'. By fitting in they meant they would prefer to hire homos. Let's just say I 'fit in' really perfectly well. "You'll make some good money," she said. At that point I wondered if this restaurant was really just a front for some other type of business. I don't know what happens in the back. So yes, homo hosts, homo waitors, homo dishwashers, homo cooks, homo...cows. Not really surprising is it?! After all, homos run midtown Atlanta.

Meanwhile, the lesbians cut the rug over in Decatur. Why is it that homos and lesbians don't mesh all that well? Why can't we all have the same turf? I've been asked this so many times by straight folk. I have my theories.

I lied today on a job application. Small shit you say? But I feel kind of bad. But when I think of the bigger picture, it's either get a job or have my car repossessed. Yes, i will lie. And I will drag my friends down with me to cover as former supervisors. Yes, supervisors.

I'm on a break from school, trying to enjoy the color yellow, getting a book to read, and thinking about some memories that are very dusty and faded.
I remember being very little, in my parents' furniture store. I remember the faded red tiled floor and tall columns. I remember eating watermelon as I faced the glass double doors. I remember the panic surging through me as I swallowed a seed. "Will a watermelon grow inside my stomach?" I asked my mom.

Martha in jail? Say it ain't so!

SHE BANGS

I LOVE him.
I am also delirious. Last few moments of school are leaving me drained. I am neglecting friends, bills, sleep.

Being in school at 1:30 in the morning is fun. These last few weeks are going to be hell. On a better note, I've been happily driving my new car around picking up hotties on the side of the road. Oh wait, not really.