May 11th 2003
So yesterday, i came home from diane's, got my mom some flowers, gave her my present, (a anthology of female poets of the renaissance)bought a futon, and went to work.
Sure enough at 10:30pm the infamous wiccans showed up to dine....but instead of there being 7-15 of them like i was told there would be, there were 24. TWENTY-FOUR FUCKING WITCHES IN THE RESTAURANT. So naturally i gave them the best service i could, in order to avoid having any spells cast on me, the only problem was that i had many other tables, including a ten person one. I kept hearing them say stuff like "remember that one ritual?" and there was one particularly creepy one who was hitting on me in front of all of them, being all "Yes, i'd like my garlic bread to go, can i take you too?" He left his phone number. Sorry donny, maybe some other time, when you're not trying to publicly embarrass me. Peer pressure does not work like that.
end of post. please remember, i was 20. the wiccans were the bane of the sunday night shifter's existence at the restaurant. they would show up, usually unannounced, in groups of 7-30 people and demand basket upon basket of bread, and torture us with long, elaborate orders full of substitutions. they were loud and demanding. the restaurant became a hyper-reality where they would wind down from whatever "rituals" they had been doing and so, so awkwardly assert their wiccan-ness together. basically, LARPers, but without props. to top it off, someone would always inevitably offer a hug as they were leaving. a long, uncomfortable hug, during which i am sure they thought they were conveying light into my heart. i had not yet learned to say "i don't touch strangers". it's second nature now. i'm sure they are very nice people, but really. make a reservation, and don't harass your server.
by the way my shoes match my living room. exciting.
1 comment:
PS. I love your shoes (as usual).
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