My mom turned on the radio
I was laying on my parents bed and my dad was cleaning out their closet. I was there hoping to score some vintage finds.
So yeah, she turns on the radio and “Party in the USA” was on.
So my mom turns on the radio and the Miley song was on, and the Miley song was onnn
MOM: This kind of sounds like the new Rihanna song, down down down down down…
ME: Mom, that’s not Rihanna. A man sings that
MOM: oh, right. The one who sings apple bottom jeans, boots with the fur
DAD: Isn’t that the same guy who sings the superman song?
ME: I think I’m going to go get dressed for work now.
My mom just got mad at me for not getting out of the car fast enough. We were still fucking MOVING, for god sakes.
For god sakes. That’s like my one line in View from the Bridge.
They’re not hurtin’ anyone, for god sakes, what do you WANT from them?
My part is so big. I’m such a pivotal character. That was sarcasm, by the way.
Drama isn’t fun anymore. Last year it was fun. But this year it isn’t.
Ughh time for work.
Work work work!
She’ll never get her DRESS done. Hurry hurry hurry hurry something something cinderelly, we will make her dress so pretty…. I don’t know the rest of the words.
This kid’s theme is Kayaking and the U.S. Open. That’s kind of weird.
And there are barely any decorations. Also kind of weird.
Just spent about a half hour in the bathroom talking to the new girl Kelly (I hope that’s her name) about how I wanted to travel around Europe and somehow it led to me explaining the wonders of Farmville.
I feel as if this has done some good in the world.
Kelly has a cracked iphone. I feel bad. She said she dropped it on a wood floor. Perhaps I should use my protective case more often.
I’m doing place cards. Now I’m standing out here waiting for the service to end.
…
I’m going on twitter. I’m tweeting about how I introduced a co-worker to Farmville.
Haha I just pressed send!
Ok I hear a song. I think this means the service is ending.
…
The woman who just walked in has REALLY cute shoes. They’re black patent leather heels with red on the soles. Very cute.
Ok the service is finally over. People are filing out to get to the cards.
An old woman just asked me where Josephine’s card is. How the fuck am I supposed to find “Josephine”. She wouldn’t tell me her last name!
I’m a waitress, not a mind reader!
Some weird kid covered in acne just asked me to find his name because he can’t read script. This kid is like 15!
I don’t know if some of these people realize it, but I can’t ACTUALLY see the cards. I’m standing there, BEHIND the cards and they’re facing AWAY from me.
The weird kid came back.
“What are those supposed to be?” He pointed at the buoy key chains.
Yes buoys. Because half the theme was kayaking.
“They’re buoys.” I said.
The kid looked confused.
“They float around in the water and tell boats where not to go”
The kid still looked confused.
“Look at them!” he said, “They’re so weird looking! What are these?”
…ummm, buoys?
The woman looking for Josephine came back. She’s asking again.
“What’s your last name?”
The woman motioned that she couldn’t hear
“What’s your last name? its in alphabetical order by last name!”
The husband told me the name.
The card wasn’t there.
“maybe one of your friends took it for you?”
She cupped her ear again
“Maybe one of your friends took it for you!”
The woman shrugged and walked away.
More old women came. Like, really old. They looked like witch doctors.
I don’t know why they looked like witch doctors, but they did.
They took their cards and started walking away.
I just saw the teenage non-script-reading kid do something weird with his arm. OMG he has that disorder where you can’t control your bodily functions! Now I feel kind of bad for thinking he was weird.
Not body functions like peeing and stuff, I mean moving limbs and everything. Like making that weird wrist motion.
What’s it called? Tourettes? Nonono not tourettes…
…
…
something paulsey?
Cerebral paulsey, that’s it.
Some people just knocked on the window of the place where you hang coats.
“Hello?”
Guys, the room is empty! The lights are out!
“Hello is anyone in here?”
“There’s nobody in there.” I said.
They nodded and left.
I re-arranged the rest of the cards so they were neater.
Half of them had buoy keychains, half of them had tennis balls
What a weird theme, kayaking and the U.S. open.
At least the kid had a hobby. At least he wasn’t like, selling drugs.
He seemed like a nice kid. I never actually saw him, but he was having a bar mitzvah and the theme was pretty geeky, so he must have been nice.
The room is clearing out. I should go bus the cocktail hour now.
Are those old women seriously still walking? They’re like, two feet from where they started, and they started about 10 minutes ago.
Why is there such a big hold up?
Ohhhh there’s a sign-in book. And obviously ever single person has to wait to sign it before going in because it would block the hallway because god forbid they wait till the party’s over.
This is probably a fire hazard.
I push pass everyone to get to the smorgasbord.
Haha smorgasbord is a funny word.
I’m bussing now.
Ahhh I hate my job.
Is that bacon? Are they serving bacon at a bar mitzvah?
Who serves bacon at a bar mitzvah?
I hope I didn’t just get in that picture.
I’ll take that plate, but I refuse to take the glass. I don’t do glasses. They don’t balance like plates do and then they fall. And shatter. Or spill, which is also bad.
“Can you take my plate?” a girl asks
“Sure!” I say with a smile.
She frowns, “Can you also take my napkin?”
…umm
“Yeah, that’s what I’m here for.”
She puts the napkin on my plate.
In the kitchen, there’s a tray of fries.
I think I’m gonna snatch one.
Hehehehhe
I’ll wipe my hands in that general area. That way I have a reason to be over there.
*snatch*
A fry has just been snatched. A fry-snatching has just occurred.
SCORE!
I’m back out on the floor.
I really think that’s bacon over there.
I wanna ask, but if I ask that’ll make it look like I’m interested in the bacon.
But I’m not. I don’t even like bacon.
Something’s not kosher.
Hahaha people say that when they want to say “something’s fishy” or “something is not right” but in this case it has another meaning!
What’s in that shot glass? It looks like a shot of the stuff inside of pumpkin pie.
You mean pumpkin?
Yeah, but its not just pumpkin, it’s like a mix of ingredients. I’m sure there’s cream in pumpkin pie. Or like, half-and-half or something.
Is it weird that I’m having an internal dialog?
Nah! It just gives me character!
Ooh hummus!
Hummus is yummus!
I was into hummus last year, but I haven’t had it in a while.
I should ask my parents to bring me some on visiting day in camp.
I don’t really know what made me think of visiting day.
I can see the scene play out before my eyes. I call my mom’s cell the day before visiting day. She’s already upstate, and coincidentally, she’s at the supermarket!
Me: Mom, can you bring me some Hummus tomorrow?
Mom: Well, I’m in the supermarket right now; I’ll pick some up for you
Me: Thanks! Love you! Bye.
That was kind of weird, actually.
I think my mind might be different than other people. I feel like I think differently. I think in long disorganized monologues that don’t make sense. They just flow into other thoughts.
It’s worse than Holden from Catcher in the Rye.
But I’m not crazy.
It’s not pumpkin pie filling. It looks like some kind of chocolate milkshake.
And now that I’m in the light it looks more like a strawberry milkshake.
And now that I’m pouring it in the liquid bucket it looks more like some kind of smoothie.
Ugh why do people crowd around so much? There is no conceivable way for me to get across the room!
Blahblahblaahhh
Oh, they just put on music!
Oh. It’s Kokomo. Damn this is hard core music.
Bermuda, Bahamas, come on pretty momma….Jamaica, ooh I wanna take ya…
This sounds really tacky. Is this from the 80’s?
Not that the 80’s were tacky or anything
Just certain aspects of it. Like the movies. Except for some.
This reminds me of Matilda’s mom. And like, Florida. And light up flamingos and men with flat-top haircuts and shirts with a confetti-like pattern on it. Or flower print.
Hello trashy.
I feel like I use the word “trashy” a lot
But I also feel like it’s needed a lot.
I really hate that movie remake they made of Romeo and Juliet. Not the real one- the one that takes place in like, Vegas. You wanna see trashy? That movie is a trashfest. It’s tack-tacular!!!
Haha tack-tackular. Like tacky and spectacular. Its spectacularly tacky.
Tack-tacular. Tack-tacular. The phrase repeats itself in my head
Tack-tackular. I don’t know why I do that sometimes, but my thoughts echo.
Tack-tackular.
A woman just asked me where the mini hot dogs were. I pointed her across the room.
I’m so jealous of the people eating sushi right now.
Oh, it turns out the mini hot dogs were like two feet to the left. Oh well.
My gloves are dirty. Time to change them.
I go inside and look for the gloves. They’re not in their normal place. I see like, two other people also looking for the gloves.
Turns out there are no more left. We need to use the rubber ones in the back.
Me and the two boys go to the back of the kitchen in search or gloves.
There are like, 10 boxes of rubber gloves. The first guy takes and leaves.
As I’m taking, I notice the second one looks around my age.
“Are you new here?” I ask
“Kind of, this is like, my second or third week.” He says.
“Cool, are you in high school too?” I ask him
“Yeah, what’s your name?”
“Paige, yours?”
“Kevin.”
“Hi Kevin! I think it’s just you and me. In high school, I mean. Everyone else is in college.”
“Nah, I think one other guy is in high school.” He mentioned a name and pointed the kid out.
Oh.
I pass him the gloves and smile.
The cocktail hour is ending. Was that a whole hour? It didn’t feel like one.
I think they may have skimped on the cocktail hour. Does that mean more time at the party?
Serving and serving and serving. I’m a servant. Like Offred. Only I don’t get raped by my boss. And I get paid.
That wasn’t really rape though. She knew she had to do it under the law.
But then again, she kind of had no choice.
Hotel motel holiday inn just came on in the party room.
It’s time to finish bussing everything left on the tables.
Does the guy singing this actually expect this girl to cheat on her boyfriend?
I wouldn’t. Especially if I was with Zachary Quinto.
But if I was with someone else, I would gladly forget about my boyfriend and meet Zachary Quinto at the hotel room.
I’d rather not bring my girlfriends, but what Zachary Quinto wants Zachary Quinto gets.
I hope I’d be the main attraction though. My girlfriends would just be there to…. IDK. Film it?
Ha. Ok. Time to think about work.
Oh god. All there is left is glasses.
And not just any old glasses. Martini glasses.
Oh god oh god.
Ok, I’ll take them.
Nice and easy…
Ok. I’m balanced. Off to the kitchen.
Now all of the liquids are in the liquid buckets. Now I have to get more.
Ok, martini glasses are on the tray.
That guy over there is kind of hot. In like a frazzled sort of way.
Rebecca said I looked frazzled at drama. It was because I literally woke up, put on a bra, grabbed a pop tart and coffee and left the house.
No make up. Hair a mess.
If I looked frazzled, did I also look bedraggled?
Probably, since they’re synonyms.
Unless I’m wrong. I’ll look it up when I get home.
Ok. Balance these glasses.
Crack! Ok fail
Crack again! Damn it. Domino effect.
Now there’s broken glass on the floor and apple martini on my shoe.
Good thing my work shoes are ugly, or else I would have been upset.
Ughhh I broke a glass. THIS is why I don’t do glasses!
Ok. Party. I’m doing drinks for tables 3 and 5.
I think about my global project I have to do tomorrow.
I have to make journal entries about my day, and then we look at them to see how the government interferes with daily life.
When I say interfere, I don’t mean it in a bad way. I’m not an anarchist or communist or whatever.
Even though I don’t think anyone has the right to give anyone the death sentence.
Who are they to take someone’s life?
Whatever. A story for a different time.
If I wrote that journal on this, I don’t know what would happen. Not only am I sixteen and serving alcohol, but I’m also getting paid off the books.
What the fuck am I supposed to write about if I can’t write the truth?
The latest episode of Glee was really good.
I go around to my tables.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“No thank you”
Next person
“Would you like something to drink?”
“No thank you”
Oh god, Josephine girl.
“Would you like something to drink?
She looked up
“Would you like something to drink?”
She cupped her ear
“Would you like something to drink?”
She motioned for me to talk louder
“WOULD YOU LIKE SOMETHING TO DRINK?”
She still couldn’t hear me.
“Would you,” I pointed at her
“Like something”, I flapped my arms. Hey, don’t judge my lack of motioning creativity!
“To drink?” I mimed drinking.
“Ginger ale, please with no ice.” She said.
“And you, sir?” I asked her husband
“Unless the ginger ale’s warm,” continued the lady, “do you know what temperature the ginger ale is?”
How the fuck would I know?
“Ma’am, I just bring the drinks. I have no idea what temperature the ginger ale is.”
“Bring it with ice, then” she said.
Wait. I just realized she heard me that whole time!
Fascinating.
Fascinating. Spock says that. I remembered the last episode I watched of Star Trek. Kirk and Spock stole a cloaking device for the Enterprise from the Romulans.
What were Spock and that Romulan woman doing? The woman was talking about how even though Romulans were like Vulcans, they were warriors so they had emotions, and since Spock was half human he would appreciate that. “I do appreciate that” Spock said. And then they did this weird hand-touching thing. They like, touched each others hands and faces and I’m sitting there like, “Spock, seriously. Fucking DO her already!” And then at the end of the episode they talk about how it was intimate and they should keep the secret between them. What secret was there to keep? That they touched each others hands? Secret… Intimate…. Was that like the Vulcan/Romulan equivalent of sex?
Oh my god it totally was! I love the episodes where Spock shows emotion!
I am such a nerd. I just spent a good fifteen minutes thinking about Vulcan sex.
Lalalalalalalala. I think I need a life.
Why doesn’t anyone want drinks today?
Whatever. It makes my job that much easier.
I should fold napkins.
The waitress on my station is really nice. I don’t know her name though.
We were talking for a long time because my table doesn’t need anything.
It was all old people.
They were practically dead anyway, so they didn’t require much.
That was mean and uncalled for.
Sorry.
We just talked about our tastes in music
She likes everything- country, pop, hip hop.
I said if it weren’t for the bar and bat mitzvahs, I wouldn’t know any pop because the stuff I listen to is basically alternative and indie.
She likes Maroon 5 and Jason Mraz. I said I liked Phoenix and Franz Ferdinand.
She thought Franz Ferdinand’s music all sounded the same. She’s kind of right.
“Exactly. If you like one of their songs, you like them all!” I said. She laughed.
We also both like oldies. She saw the B52’s in concert in Brooklyn a couple of years ago. I’m super jealous. We also both like the Beatles. But who DOESN’T like the Beatles. Besides Jaclyn. But she doesn’t count- she wouldn’t know good music if it danced naked in front of her.
I really don’t get that saying at all. I feel like something may have been like, lost in translation there. Whatever.
These salads are really annoying. They’re in these like, shell things, so they slide around on the plate. I’m afraid I’m going to drop one.
I don’t, thankfully.
The shells make clean-up very easy though.
Josephine’s husband keeps ordering glasses and glasses of ginger ale.
A man at another table wants a shot of strawberry vodka.
“We’re not allowed to bring shot glasses to the tables” I told him. He gave me his glass and said, “Put the shot in here.”
The bartender did. I feel as if this man has beaten the system.
Dinner. The choices are Salmon with sticky rice and some kind of long green vegetable. I forget the name. I think its something with an A.
Then there’s chicken with spinach and potato cubes.
Then there’s steak with mashed potatoes and string beans.
What’s the word? Its like, artichoke. One of those kinds of words. Av…
I have to bring two plates out. Steak, Fish.
I bring them to the right places.
Second round.
Chicken, Fish. I do the same.
Next round. I stand in line waiting for the woman with red hair to give me the order.
“Beef, fish.”
*double take*
“What?”
“Beef, and salmon”
What the fuck does that mean? That’s not on the menu!
I take the fish plate.
“Where can I get the beef? I need fish and beef but I don’t really know what the beef part means.”
He gives me a second plate with just the fish and no sides.
“Take that over there and ask for the beef”
I’m confused.
I go to the other side and I ask for beef. He gives me steak.
“The person asked for beef.”
“This is beef.”
“So there’s no difference between beef and steak?”
“It’s different cuts.”
Oh. That kind of makes sense.
He puts it on the plate with the fish and no sides.
“I really don’t know why that fish is there if the person only asked for beef.” I said
“You said beef and fish” called the guy who did fish.
“Yeah, one order of beef, one order of fish.” I called back.
“Oh! Then gimme back that fish!” he said.
The steak guy laughed and called out to the fish guy, “You must have gotten confused when the last guy asked for three orders of fish and two orders of salmon!”
I didn’t get it for a sec. But then I did.
HAHA that’s actually so funny!
When does this party end?
Ok, so I’m standing at the bar getting more ginger ale for Josephine’s husband when this hot guy comes over and asks for a diet coke. He was hot like…. Michael Jackson pre-surgery. Then I realized, oh my god, this is the bar mitzvah kid! He is NOT thirteen. He looks about my age, maybe older.
Maybe he’s left back. This kid is NOT in 8th grade.
First Kevin. Then that other guy, now the BAR MITZVAH BOY. Why is everyone hot today? Is it just me?
The waitress I was talking to before and the other one who looks like Jordi from my school both agree with me- today there are a lot of hotties lurking.
I snatched some sticky rice from the back and ate it. Yummy.
ASPARIGUS! That’s the word I was looking for!
I always get Party in the USA stuck in my head, even when they don’t play it.
Noddin’ my head like yeah, movin’ my hips like yeah
Time for dessert. Lava cakes!
A couple of weeks ago, I set aside a lava cake for myself and someone ended up taking it. This time, I will NOT let that happen.
I covered it in a napkin. It’s foolproof!
Its times like these when I remember why I’m a size six and not a size two.
I can’t wait to lay down when I get home.
When does this party end? I ask the Jordi look-alike if she has the time. We still have 35 minutes before the party ends. Seriously?
I ask music girl how much time we have. She looks at her phone clock and says “35 minutes.”
Ugh!
Why isn’t there anyone sitting at either of my tables? Its just Mr. and Mrs. Josephine by themselves.
Oh wait, no, they’re getting up.
I just got a pair of light up blinking glasses! Score!
Time to do coffee. I’m doing decaf today. There are a lot of old people around, so I doubt anyone will want regular.
Ok we’re cleaning up now. I honestly don’t see any point in continuing this party. Everyone’s gone.
Children, adults… there are a total of like, ten people here!
Alright ten minutes left.
People are taking the flowers on the table and casually leaving with them.
DONE! Yessss! Time to clean up and get the fuck OUT!
Let’s get those water glasses!
Now the water glasses have been gotten and the lights are back on! Time to take off the table cloths and stack the chairs.
I’ll take the table cloths off the tables, but as far as chair stacking goes, I am a firm believer in the fact the chivalry is NOT dead.
I am stacking and dragging chairs. I feel like one of pharaoh’s Jewish slaves.
Especially since I am a Jew.
Let my people go!
Done done and done. I have just received my envelope of cash. Woot woot!
I think I know what time it is!
Besides being 1:30, it’s ALSO time for my LAVA CAKE!
Mmm. That was very good. Jill’s dropping me off at home.
Sitting in the car feels so good. My feet KILL.
I feel like I should end this with some kind of monologue, but strings of thoughts never really end.
I feel like there should at least be dramatic music or something. For closure.
Here’s some closure- I get home and go to sleep.
The end.
