Friday, August 25

August is Broken

Morale is low and I've decided to deal with it by resigning myself to a rotten summer. August: it's broken.

I'm not saying this is the worst summer ever (that would have to be the summer of '04, when family issues tangled with the loss of a best friend, the dating of a douche, and a job that involved masturbating with Excel spreadsheets).

Still, this summer's not going so well, and I've decided to stop pretending it is. One of my closest friends in the world is known to give her bad moods end times. She's a nicer and smarter person than me, and so her bad moods are usually scheduled to end two, or four, hours later. For me, high morale, enthusiasm, and good cheer will resume Sept. 1.

Tuesday, August 15

Madeleine's Weekend Lessons

1. When you puke in public, no one likes you. Really. Maybe in your head you're thinking -- but I did it in the flowers! It's fertilizer! -- but that argument is not going to work.

2. I'm not the only one that just got free Bravo myseriously! The cable gods gave this present to ALL of lower Manhattan.

3. Don't go to work hungry if your job is waitressing.

Thursday, August 10

Coming Soon: Varicose Veins

Oh no, not another part-time job? Oh, yes, really! Part-time job, full-time job: I got 'em all!

The new PT job is at a trendy Brooklyn restaurant. I'll reveal no more: the restaurant folks might know how to use the internets. For now, I waitress & hostess, and request daily to be trained to bartend. Mostly, I hostess.

Before I ever hosted, I assumed that the main requirement was to look busty. So I showed up to work in a lowcut top the first day. This was not such a success, mostly because lowcut tops are only interesting if you have boobs. (See: failed attempt at boobal growth spurt.)

Really being a hostess involves three things:

1. Being fake. Fake Madeleine is delighted to see you. This is the first time she's heard that joke! You're so clever, and really, Fakeleine will seat you before all those other folks.

2. Climbing up stairs in front of people. Do you think I can't tell when you're staring at my ass? Oh, I can tell. I've changed tactics, and now I wear tight skirts, instead of lowcut tops. The kitchen staff likes it, and I've been getting free shots from the bartenders.

3. Trying to convince people to sit inside, when clearly the best seats are outside. This involves lying about the respective wait times and performing a hard sell on the greatness of air conditioning.

And that's all really. Here's the best part: the other night I worked, and so much standing was involved that I could feel my feet swelling, and varicose veins a'forming. All was redeemed when at the end of the night, the boss Vito said, "You did good" and slipped me an extra twenty bucks. Not being a hooker, I've never before been slipped an extra twenty for doing well, and I've got to report: it's pretty nice.

Saturday, August 5

Best Freudian Slip -- EVER!

Madcat: It's crazy, because they've been dating for ages.
Joanna: I know -- forever!
Madcat: You can't be seriously dating someone, and trying to sleep with other people. It's just not allowed.
Joanna: Exactly! You've either got to break up, or stay monotonous.

Wednesday, August 2

Dubious Compliments

I.
A coworker to me when I handed him a mix tape to put on the bookstore's sound system:

Your taste in music is so much cooler than you look.

II.
Two guys, on my street corner, my 16th birthday:
Guy 1: She's got a nice little figure --no tits, though.
Guy 2: Yeah, no tits at all. But she's young.
Sad news: I am still awaiting my boobal growth spurt.

III.
My college buddy, at a recent party:
Buddy: Madeleine! I hear you're dating someone. And I haven't even met him. But I've heard he's awesome. Just, really cool--everyone likes him.
Madeleine: He's good people.
Buddy: That's great, really, cause in the past...some of those guys have been less than awesome. Madeleine <<>>
Buddy: I mean, first there was that college nonsense. And, oh, god, then there was that guy who was just such! an asshole.