Happiee Berfffday, DoucheBag!

Tonight as I stepped off the #22 Clark Bus, heading home from work, I was nearly bowled over by an amazingly drunken princess. She was out celebrating her 21st birthday, and somehow had lost all of her friends. She was stumbling through Wrigleyville, one broken sandal in her hand, crown on her head, and reeking of Cosmopolitans.

She said hello and started telling me all about her night, and how drunk she was, and how all of her friends, "Those DoucheBags!" had left her and headed out to another bar, she was going there to meet her friends, "Those DoucheBags!" and oh, yeah she was drunk, and the bouncer at the last bar almost didn't take her ID, "That DoucheBag!" and she thought I was a really nice guy for talking to a drunken stranger and she was glad I wasn't a DoucheBag!

Everybody, apparently was a DoucheBag... except me. We walked for three blocks because the bar she was headed to was near my apartment, she just kept rattling on. Now, I don't want to say that this chick was a porker, but she was definitely bigger boned than I am and truth be told if she had taken a header I'm not sure I could've helped her up. She kept stumbling against me and I was starting to worry that she might fall on top of me. Luckily, we made it to my corner, and as I bid the her good night she asked me if I wanted to come to the bar and have a drink with her and her friends. Tempting I know, but I opted to not go. Her friends sounded like a bunch of DoucheBags!

And They Said Romance Was Dead

Did you here about this?

Some Kenyan offered Bill Clinton a dowry of 40 Goats & 20 Cows to wed Chelsea. The man, who's in his thirties, has sworn off all other women, supposedly, until he receives an answer. He first 'proposed' in 2000.

Now I'll be the first to admit that Chelsea Clinton has come along way from that awkward child we all knew from her days in the White House, but come on, that's a lot of livestock to wed a minor celebrity. I wonder what the going rate for a real star would be. How many hogs would I have to throw down to get a shot at, say, Lindsay Lohan? Do you think Tom Cruise payed for his soon to be bride in sheep, or long horn steers?

And to think, I stress out figuring out how I would afford a ring.

Inspected By # 26

Or so read the slip of paper I found buried in one of my vest's decorative pockets.

If you haven't been keeping up I must wear a vest at my new job, waiting tables, and it makes perfect sense to me. It's Summer. Hot. Humid. I need more layers as I'm running around the restaurant, schlepping tapas for Lincoln Park's elite. It's possible that I could sweat more if I was wearing, maybe, a triple down skiing jacket. Nothing is more appetizing than some pudgy, red-faced, sweat-soaked, newbie waiter running up to your table and saying, "Welcome to (Fill In Blank)! Can I start you off with a pitcher of Sangria? Oh, and try the seared octopus. It's to die for!"

But seriously folks, today was my first 'solo' shift. I was supposed to get a half a section for my trial run. Unfortunately with the monsoon-ish rain we didn't get busy till later, half my half section was dripping water from the ceiling, and then 2 of my tables were the last tables to leave the restaurant at the end of the night. Not the most ideal of shifts. But it can only get better. Most everyone that I work with is friendly, and willing to help the new kid out. As for the clientele... well that's always a crap shoot anyway, I guess.

Pillow Sweat!

Damn is it hot? Yesterday I put in our AC. Unfortunately with the way our apartment is laid out it's almost impossible to cool with one weak window unit. it cooled down, maybe, ten feet of air around the window and that was about it.

We went to bed with our fans all on high and and pointed right at us and still we baked all night long. Any body contact became unbearable within seconds and the other person would role away with a grunt. I tossed and turned on my side of the bed, sheets drenched with my sweat and my pillow sponged up the rest. At one point I turned around in bed and put my head at the foot the bed just so I could find a dry inch. As I lay there exhausted, hot and irritable I kept drifting back to The March Of The Penguins. (Earlier on in the evening, in an effort to escape the heat we went to the Music Box to watch the documentary. All of those grand, sweeping shots of the freezing antarctic ice, and the scenes of the brutal blizzards beating down upon the community of Penguins actually were quite refreshing.)

It's still hot. A man should not break a sweat sitting in a chair, typing on his computer.

Word Of The Day

Kiestering - (according to Lisa Ling, who appeared on Oprah today) it is when prison inmates hide contraband in their anal cavity or as Oprah put it, "Up The Butt!" An ingenious convict may hide items such as 'hit lists', drugs, personal mementos, knives, and/or shivs up their pooper! Ouch!

Well, I guess it's true what they say, You do learn something new everyday!

The Store

So tonight, after work, I went out for a few drinks with a few of my new co-workers. I've been busting my ass all week, and tonight I took some tables and felt pretty good about my performance, for the most part, and decided to socialize with a handful of people I barely know. I think I'll have fun at my new job. It's been a while since I've worked in a restaurant but I remember when I first moved to Chicago and worked for FTG, man, we'd be out every night. The front of the house, the back of the house and the managers all kicking back and having a few beers to wind down.
Then there were those mornings you woke up with an empty pocket and you mentally totalled up the damage from the night before.

$137 Earned Tips For The Night

$42.25 For 5 Beers + 2 IrisH Car Bombs For Me

$5.95 For An Order Of Chicken Tenders

$23 For A Round of Shots

$25 Bar Tab At The Second Bar

$13 Bar Tab At The 4 O'Clock Bar

$.50 For Vending Machine Condom In Bar Bathroom

$10 Cab Fare

Damnit! Seventeen Dollars and Thirty Cents!? What the hell did I do last night? Excuse me... excuse me. Wake up. Yes, hi. What's your name? Shannon? Okay, nice to meet you, Shannon. Um, can you tell me how I spent over $100 last night? No, well then, did we have a good time? Who are you and how did you end up here? Uh... So... I mean do you want breakfast?

It's fun to think about hanging out with work buddies even if I'm just the new kid on the block. I'm pretty much done with my wild days, and I don't mind saying that I've got amazing incentive to run home after every shift. A few beers after work with the co-workers will be a welcome routine, I hope.

Something odd though, on my way home I saw a woman jogging through the center of Wrigleyville at 1 AM. She was wearing an Orioles Jersey, had her hair up in a pony tail and was listening to her Ipod as she jogged down Clark Street. What's going on here? Who jogs in the middle of the night? Is she fight ing with her significant other? Insomniac? Obsessive? Olympic hopeful? Just plain nuts?

What do you think?

The Elusive Vest!

So I have a job now. Today was my first day of training and Friday we were given our uniform requirements. Pretty standard.

• Black Pants
• Black Shoes
• Black Socks
• Black Belt
• White Button-Down, Long-Sleeve Dress Shirt
• A Dress Vest (Your choice of style.)
• A Neck Tie (Also Your A Choice)
• Four Black Pens
• A Wine Key
• A Lighter

So I roll out of bed on Sunday afternoon and brave the intense heat, the Cubs crowd, and my killer hangover (Bachelor Party) to go out and rustle up the few items I didn't possess. What grown man doesn't own a white dress shirt and black slacks? Me! I'm that grown man. Five pairs of jeans, and countless obnoxious T-Shirts but no white dress shirt, or black pants.

Easily solved. In the first hour out I had purchased a shirt and pants, separately, for less than $20.

All that was left was a vest. How hard could it be to find a vest! Well, the first place didn't have any vests. Nor the second. The third only had XS tuxedo vests, oh and one sparkly black number that I passed on. The next place had no vests. The following store, an Army Surplus Store had vests... Camouflaged vests! The next place had only sweater vests. One vendor said, "I got leather vests. You know, Harley Davidson?"

Where in the hell are all of the vests? Don't get me wrong, it's not my fashion accessory of choice either! The only people, besides waiters, I see wearing vests these days are Valets, Chain Gangs, and The Coast Guard! But I never thought that a vest would be so hard to hunt down.

This morning I got up and went to a uniform store and the cheapest vest was $40. For a vest! $40 for a vest, which is kinda like paying $40 for a 'Dress Tank Top'! For that much money the vest should have sleeves... of course then it wouldn't be a vest!

So finally, with an hour and a half to spare I found a thrift store with vests. Butt Ugly vests! You know, plaid, stripes, a few Tiger Scout vests, some terminally stained vests and one borderline passable vest. This was the 16th store I had tried in less than 24 hours, I was at my wit's end. The vest is Navy Blue with a silver back, and Bright, Shiny, Gold Buttons and I bought it for $5!

Of course I was so anxious, and frustrated I didn't bother to try it on until I got home. It's a little snug but I can't tell if it's the vest, or my gut. The gut I can work on.

WTF?

Being unemployed I have developed a bad habit. I've started watching Maury! Do you remember when Maury Povich was a reputable journalist? Anyway, I can't get enough of DNA Paternity tests. It's amazing.
"Kim, we are here for the fifth time. You want to know for sure who the father of you baby is. We've already tested 12 men. Today we are going to test three more and hope that one of these men is the father, but I doubt it."

Today, I watched a 'guest update' show and saw the most disturbing thing ever. This 'little girl', and I use the term loosely, was 4 years old and weighed over 200lbs! 200lbs! 4 Years old! It was hard to even watch her walk. She got winded sitting down. Her mom was extremely worried about her daughter's weight. Understandable, I'm freaking out about it! But the worse part was she appeared like five different times on the Maury show. She came back after gaining 30 lbs. She returned after dropping 8lbs. Now, maybe I'm way off base here but appearing on television because you're concerned about your obese child and want to find some help for her is one thing. Repeatedly getting free airline tickets, and going to New York to appear on television so Maury can hug your daughter and get better ratings seems like it's bordering on exploitation. It's disturbing!

"Hey, look honey, Maury's got on the fat girl again! Let's order a couple pizzas! Good Lord, she's got mor chins than China!"

Now, I don't have a child, yet, and I'm sure I'll love my kids no matter what but before taking my chubby child on trash televison, I think I'd make him/her eat a salad once in a while. Put a lock on the fridge! Stop buying doritos in bulk and visit the produce section of the grocery store. Take away the TV remote so they'd have to get off the couch to change the channel.

I once worked in a summer camp and we had a 6 year old boy who weighed in at 130lbs. He was a tub of goo. All the other kids talked about him, and all of the adults secretly made fun of him. One time we were rough-housing and he went to jump on me, but a little girl got in the way and he had to pull back so he wouldn't hurt her. He crapped his pants! The strain of stopping his momentum was to much for his body to take and he squeezed out a turd on accident. Once I stopped laughing my ass off, I realized how sad it really was. I've never forgotten the look on his face. I'm glad I never saw him on Ricki Lake!

Heads or Tails?

Are you tired of my complaining yet? Seriously? I've been bitching a lot lately, haven't I? Negativity has been my thing lately.

But now... I've been offered a job... by two different restaurants... who I didn't expect to hear from! The first (SEE POST DIRECTLY BELOW) has told my little brother that they are, indeed, interested in hiring me even thought they are 'fine dining', I'd have to wear a tux, they'd would probably over-train me, and I didn't wear a neck tie to my 2nd interview. The other place, which I was hoping for, is a tapas restaurant, corporate so there will be benefits, is probably a better fit for my personality and is planning on utilizing me as a server & a bartender!

Training starts on Monday for both, so it's not possible to work part-time at each place. I really didn't expect to get hired by the first place after the interview and getting the feeling that I wasn't qualified. I had a good feeling about the second place but I couldn't read the manager at all during the interview, and walked away thinking I'd blown another chance.

So what do I do? Should I flip a coin? Yes, that's what I'll do... right now. I'm flipping a coin. I'll call it in the air. 'HEADS!' Oops! Damn, where'd did it go? It rolled under the desk! Aw, there it is! It looks like it landed on...

Which Is Funnier?

M&S: Well, thank you so much Mr. Cobb for coming in for this interview. I will tell you that the one strike you have against you so far is the fact that you didn't wear a shirt and tie. You didn't put enough thought into putting on a nice shirt and tie. Now, I know some people have the mentality that, "Hey, it's just a server position or a bartender position. I don't need to look my best for the interview." I don't agree. That's the one thing so far you've got going against you. Now I don't know how old you are, I don't care but in the future, if I were you I'd dress a little nicer. That's all I'm saying.

Mr.Cobb: I knew I should've dressed up more, sir. I had the nicest full length, strapless gown with elbow length gloves and a tiara. Then I thought to myself, "Hey, it's just a server position!"

or

Mr.Cobb: Well, you know what they say. "A turd in a shiny wrapper is just a turd and I'm the shit, baby!" (Jumps up onto the table and proceeds to do the Cabbage Patch until hauled away by restaurant security.)

(In my defense I had on slacks, nice shoes, and a collared shirt. I'd even shaved. It's not like I rolled into the interview wearing jeans, flip-flops and my 'Morningwood' T-shirt. But I guess you can't please everyone.)

Can't sleep!

When I was in high school I averaged like 1& 1/2 hours of sleep a night. If I was lucky. I was a bit of an insomniac, I guess. I'm not sure cause I could definitely sleep during school, just not at night as I lay awake in bed shaking my legs, tossing and turning, watching the clock night after night.

Then in college I could sleep anytime, anywhere, through anything. I told myself I was just catching up from high school. I pulled only 1 all-nighter while I was in school. It was on a stage design project, and the only reason I had to stay up all night was because I'd lost my patience and stepped on the project... ten times.

Lately, I've been having trouble sleeping. I'll go to bed and lie there and I just can't fall asleep. I'll be dozing at the TV, nodding off while reading a book, or wiped out from a long day but when I crawl into bed, suddenly I'm wide awake! My mind is racing 100mph!
I'm stressing about being unemployed, about my debt, about my dirty apartment, about the state of the world, about who played henchman #7 in BatMan Begins.
I worry about my shortcomings as a person, a writer, a lover, and a boyfriend.
I revisit old scripts in my head. I edit. I erase. I start anew. I brainstorm on problem areas. I rework background stories, character development, awkward moments, weak endings, etc.
After a while I'll quietly get out of bed and tip toe out of the bedroom. Sit at my computer and stare blankly at the screen for a half hour or more. Everything I was planning, brainstorming, changing, writing, and envisioning is no longer in my head. From the time it's taken me to sneak out my bedroom and sit at the computer my mind has become a total blank. WTF?

So I'll turn on an old movie until I get sleepy. I'll open a book and read until I start to nod off. Then I'll crawl into bed with my blissfully unaware girlfriend and listen to her softly snoring and hope that my brain has slowed down enough to allow me some shut eye.

Oh well, at least I can sleep in! That's the good thing about being unemployed.

*Update: Several job interviews later I have a few 2nd interviews scheduled this week and it is a possibility I'll be working by this time next week. Unless of course 3rd interviews are required! Keep your fingers crossed.

Fried Bubba Love!!!

Several years ago I ran a karaoke night at a local bar here in the city under the name Bubba! It made me laugh. The name not the job! After months and months of suffering through countless renditions of Bohemian Rhapsody and butchered 'Old School' inspired versions of Total Eclipse of the Heart I was constantly amazed to get through nights where I didn't actually spit on someone. I never did. I held it together and retired honorably.

Should I test fate?

Why not?

This coming Friday Night, July 15th for ONE NIGHT ONLY I will, once again, be stepping up to the mic and hosting one more night of Karaoke at Trader Todd's Adventure Bar, 3216 N. Sheffield Chicago IL. I got a call asking me to fill in for a friend and being unemployed, and broke I wasn't about to say no! So come on out, have a Mai Tai, sing some bad music, and listen to me berate a bunch of drunken Bo Bice Wannabes until they wet themselves. Should be fun! I just hope I can last the night!!!!

* Fried Bubba Love was once the name of my weekly email announcements for all of my Karaoke loving friends and loyal supporters!

It's My Blog

So sometimes I rant & rave about the injustices in my life!

I don't make enough money!

I still haven't gotten my raise!

I'm unemployed, and it's my fault!

I have no direction in life!

Sometimes I throw myself a little pity party. I fumble through a little post about my misery, and discomfort. I vomit out a little sarcastic, not-so witty blurb that's amazingly unoriginal, and go to bed vindicated.

Then in the middle of the night as I stare at the ceiling of my bedroom, I think about other people with real concerns, real problems and real injustices. Bombs tear London apart... friends battle illness... children go missing from their homes... everyday lives are lost due to senseless violence... and I'm having a hard time finding a job after less than a week?

Sometimes I feel like a little drama queen but very manly.

Still Unemployed.

Calm down, it's only been two days.

Yeah, but I've been putting applications out, and faxing resumes for a couple of weeks now. True, I've had two interviews.

The 1st one ignored my experience, work history, loyalty, and willingness to learn and only focused on what I didn't have... breasts! Seriously, the guy gave a 25 minute interview to the hot blonde before me, who was younger, less experienced and had scheduling conflicts. She got a rundown on the restaurant's concept, a brief summary of his qualifications, and work history, not to mention a five minute spiel on the wine list. He talked so much when he stepped away from the table she turned to me and asked me, "Is he talking a lot? I feel like I haven't said a word." Me? I got, "Tell me about your last job. Do you have any wine experience? I'll call you later to set up a second interview." I'm still waiting and he doesn't return my calls... not that he'd be the best boss.

My 2nd interview, which I had today because my baby brother talked to someone at his work, was less discouraging. I don't have fine dining experience and most places that have fine dining require fine dining experience and won't hire you without the fine dining experience that no one will hire you without. Anyway, we agreed on my lack of fine dining experience but agreed on my abundance of other experience, and my willingness to learn. I, supposedly, have a second interview to be scheduled for the beginning of the week, then possibly start of training as a lunch server, since lunches are apparently less formal and fine than dinners. I'll wait and see. Of course if this job works out I may owe my little brother a favor.

The frustrating thing is that noone is ever in as big a hurry to hire me as I am to be hired! Put me in training. Great! Get me on the schedule. Outstanding! Hire me on a trial basis. Hooray! I don't care! I will make it work. Just don't tell me to check back in a few weeks. No, I need a job now.
My bills are overdue!
I have a future to think about!
I'd love to start one of those saving account thingamabobbers I hear grown ups talk about!
Come on, Lady Luck, throw me a bone.

The worse part is I get the feeling that the job I worked for nearly five years is hurting my chances of getting hired. I can't be sure. It's happened before when I've applied for jobs in the restaurant industry. People see the name of my former employer, and due to popular misconceptions assume that I didn't really work hard, or didn't get the proper training to be a good server/bartender. It wasn't a 'Here's your menu. How would you like your burger cooked?', full service restaurant so I must be a sub-par worker. In five years I was a server, bartender, trainer, and shift supervisor. I was flown to other states to train staff for the restaurant. I was always asked to join the opening crews for new locations. I was offered, on numerous occasions, management level positions which I declined in favor of earning tips; more money/less B.S! I busted my ass for that company before getting terminated for a gross misunderstanding, and now their name on my resume has interviewers shaking their head before the first question is asked. What can I do? Without listing them on my resume I have a 5 year gap in my employment history, not counting various other odd jobs, summer employment and false starts I may have had.

I guess it doesn't matter. When an opportunity presents itself I'll seize it and make the most of it... until a better opportunity presents itself and then I'll jump on that train.

Independence!

-And how did you spend this fabulous weekend?

Drinking. Partying with friends, grilling out, playing bocci, drinking cheap beer and margaritas and kicking back!

-Celebrating your country's independence, right?

*(Burp)* Our country is independent? Independent of who? What the hell are you talking about?

-The Fourth Of July! You know, independence day? George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and all that historical stuff!

Was that this past weekend? No wonder I kept seeing all those flags. I just thought ACE Hardware had a sale! Hey, Happy Fourth Of July to you!

-Thank you. You too.

Man, I love this country! Now if only I could find a better job... oh, and healthcare would be nice.

The End of Days

Did you ever see that Arnold Schwarzenegger movie? What a steamy pile of dog crap that was! Whew!

Anyway, I'm talking about my last day of work at my current job. Today! I don't exactly have a plan right now. I put in my notice three weeks ago, and even stayed on an extra week because I hadn't gotten any responses. I've put out mucho applications! I've been combing through the classifieds every week, and Craig's List. I even had an interview with a job earlier this week on my lunch break (supposedly a follow up interview is in the works) but still had to miss some work... and there's the problem.

I work 9:30 to 5:30 M-F. Most restaurants, bars, etc, ask that applications be turned in between 2-4, M-F. I work. That is also the time that they interview applicants; I'm at work. You see the dilemma? Finding another job becomes exponentially harder when I'm currently slaving away at my low-paying job.

So I am prepared to start not working, have my second interview that has yet to be scheduled, and hit the pavement with renewed vigor, and a growing sense of desperation. I've resigned. I'm searching for a new job and as of Tuesday I am unemployed. Again.

(Yes, I know the DQ is looking for help, PM.)