A bowl of sauerkraut?!?
New T-shirt spotted on the B train today. It goes like this, from top to bottom:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
Make a Wish
Blow Here
[arrow pointing to shirt-wearer's crotch]
New Yorkers: Putting the ass back in class.
I finally, finally, finally finished my freelance work yesterday. It was — how do I say this with tact and professionalism? — a challenge. But once I put everything away and prepared to resume my life, it took about 12 seconds before I picked up Harry Potter. I'm on page 101 and I've cried four times already, to the point where, at around 2 a.m., Josh gently leaned over and said, "Maybe you should take a break for now." Seriously, people: I cried when I read the dedication page. As if it was some kind of mystery that J.K. Rowling would dedicate book seven to her husband, two kids, and the fans. But there I was, Puddle. I love these books.
I got so into it that I skipped dinner last night, save for some noshing on stuffed grape leaves, trail mix and red Gatorade. It reminded me of my dinners when I first moved to New York and didn't have a job: Wheat Thins and baby carrots. It's a miracle I didn't come down with rickets or develop a goiter or some such thing. And then there were the last two weeks of college, when I had not a dime to my name and I subsisted on one box of spaghetti and a half-head of iceberg lettuce. I look at pictures of myself at graduation and think I look awesome because I'd been working out, but in reality, it was probably because I'd consumed about 300 calories in 10 days. Really, though, I looked awesome.
Josh just called to see if I'll be home for dinner tonight. Poor guy, this is what he ate last night when I took a pass on us cooking or ordering in:
Cereal: 2 bowls
Soup: 1 can
Tuna sandwich: 1
Crumpets with strawberry preserves: 2
Sauerkraut: 1 bowl
Apple: 1
"It's amazing what you can cobble together to make a meal," he says. And then, "I don't feel so good today."
I think I'll never forget the way I felt I had to eat when I had no money (not that I have much more now) in the same way that I'll never forget what it was like to wait tables and what it was like to be single. It's a depressing credo to live by, but I think that just because you did what you had to do "back then" doesn't mean you'll never have to do it again. I've been gainfully employed with full-time work in offices where my employers offer benefits since 1996, but for whatever reason, I'm still convinced I'm going to be Your Waitress Marla Welcome to the Macaroni Grill again one day. I suppose it builds character, I suppose it keeps me grateful for what I have and humble about what I've accomplished, but I do think that, at some point, it's time to stop peeking through the front windows of restaurants, wondering if I'd like working there.
Even so, you'd all better tip. It's only right.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
Make a Wish
Blow Here
[arrow pointing to shirt-wearer's crotch]
New Yorkers: Putting the ass back in class.
I finally, finally, finally finished my freelance work yesterday. It was — how do I say this with tact and professionalism? — a challenge. But once I put everything away and prepared to resume my life, it took about 12 seconds before I picked up Harry Potter. I'm on page 101 and I've cried four times already, to the point where, at around 2 a.m., Josh gently leaned over and said, "Maybe you should take a break for now." Seriously, people: I cried when I read the dedication page. As if it was some kind of mystery that J.K. Rowling would dedicate book seven to her husband, two kids, and the fans. But there I was, Puddle. I love these books.
I got so into it that I skipped dinner last night, save for some noshing on stuffed grape leaves, trail mix and red Gatorade. It reminded me of my dinners when I first moved to New York and didn't have a job: Wheat Thins and baby carrots. It's a miracle I didn't come down with rickets or develop a goiter or some such thing. And then there were the last two weeks of college, when I had not a dime to my name and I subsisted on one box of spaghetti and a half-head of iceberg lettuce. I look at pictures of myself at graduation and think I look awesome because I'd been working out, but in reality, it was probably because I'd consumed about 300 calories in 10 days. Really, though, I looked awesome.
Josh just called to see if I'll be home for dinner tonight. Poor guy, this is what he ate last night when I took a pass on us cooking or ordering in:
Cereal: 2 bowls
Soup: 1 can
Tuna sandwich: 1
Crumpets with strawberry preserves: 2
Sauerkraut: 1 bowl
Apple: 1
"It's amazing what you can cobble together to make a meal," he says. And then, "I don't feel so good today."
I think I'll never forget the way I felt I had to eat when I had no money (not that I have much more now) in the same way that I'll never forget what it was like to wait tables and what it was like to be single. It's a depressing credo to live by, but I think that just because you did what you had to do "back then" doesn't mean you'll never have to do it again. I've been gainfully employed with full-time work in offices where my employers offer benefits since 1996, but for whatever reason, I'm still convinced I'm going to be Your Waitress Marla Welcome to the Macaroni Grill again one day. I suppose it builds character, I suppose it keeps me grateful for what I have and humble about what I've accomplished, but I do think that, at some point, it's time to stop peeking through the front windows of restaurants, wondering if I'd like working there.
Even so, you'd all better tip. It's only right.
posted by Marla at 4:09 PM
12 Comments:
Did you ever see (my favorite movie) A Star is Born, the one from 1954? There's a scene where Judy Garland's character, the titular star (but not yet), is talking about her days waiting tables, before she got a gig as a singer. She gets this inwardly reflective look on her face and says, "I'll never forget it," and then adds, with steely resolve, "and I'll never go back." And, of course, she immediately gets the Hollywood bug and ends up waitressing again. It's very memorable.
JK had 3 children, not 2. Does that make you want to cry again?
You know, Mollie, I've never seen that version, but I do want to check it out. Although, aside from the skyrocketing-to-stardom thing, I'm a little afraid to relate a bit too much. One of my biggest fears, aside from plunging to my death in a plummeting express elevator, is going to back to waitressing.
Scratch that: Working retail in a packed-to-the-gills children's store. My biggest fear is doing that again. Because I HATED that.
Steph, if I had to work at a packed-to-the-gills children's store again and JK Rowling showed up with her three, not two, kids, I may cry. That's when I'd cry again.
Does it make you feel better that Macaroni Grill closed a few years back?
It does, indeed. It means I don't have to work there ever again, at least.
They did, however, have really good tiramisu. And they taught me how to sing "Happy Birthday" in Italian.
scott baio is 45 and has a reality show. thoughts...
OK, so I've seen about 15 minutes of the show, the part when he apologizes to Julie McCollough and buys her a pizza. And really, he just shouldn't speak. Ever again. What an ass. How is a viewer supposed to empathize with a person who says he's cheated on every girlfriend he's ever had and never felt guilty? Dick. Bye, Chachi. May Leather Tuscadero kick your lame ass.
But I do intend to watch "The Two Coreys." I mean, how can you not?
And have I mentioned that I'm obsessed with "Gene Simmons' Family Jewels"? That might be the best show ever. I actually had our research department fact-check Nick's age so I wouldn't feel guilty for having illegal thoughts about him. (He's finally 18! Victory!)
The Two Coreys? What's this now? I know not of it. Do elaborate.
Ooh, it's the Odd Couple with hair gel! It's going to be on A&E. It's a "scrpted reality" show (although, really, aren't they all?) in which Corey Feldman, who is now a married, working, responsible neat freak, takes in his single, messy, unemployed, recovering drug addict and recovering fattie old pal, Corey Haim. So Haim moves into Feldman's impressive home where he squats and basically turns domestic bliss upside down for Feldman and the missus.
It would be worth watching it if just for the Lost Boys references.
This comment has been removed by the author.
The Lost Boys... l'sigh. Oh how I do love that movie.
(Ooops, sorry, I pushed the wrong button by accident. I was going to follow-up by saying:) Death by stereo.
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