Wednesday, March 23, 2005

how thin is too thin? I'm genuinely curious. Also, what gives stangers the right to comment about your weight? Whether you're thin or fat, people feel entitled to talk to you about this. I was at Whole Earth today, looking at flip flops. Not buying, just looking. This woman came out of the dressing room in a really cute skirt. I love skirts. I said, "that's a really cute skirt." She said "thanks, my butt's too big for it, though. You should get it, though. You have a tiny butt. *looks me up and down* You have a tiny everything. You're seriously skinny" All I said was that the skirt was really cute. Why did we start talking about whether or not I'm thin?

I met The Flake's dad. He hugged me. Twice. Coming and going. When I walked into their house, I held out my hand to shake his hand and he looked me in the eye and said, "oh, no...I'm old enough that I get hugs!" So I hugged him. It was cute. Also, The Flake said something that night that literally made my heart skip a beat. It wasn't what he said, it was the pause in his voice that made my heart swell. I know it sounds dumb, because, I mean, c''s The Flake. But for serious, y'all. The way he said it, and looked at me was the sweetest thing I've ever seen him do. There's a new side to The Flake. I'm sure he'll say something stupid really soon :)

March is almost over. Yay! It's going to be about three weeks of really pretty weather. I had the top of Eleanor two weeks ago. Mother Nature pulled a fast one and then, it got cold-ish and rainy-ish again. I hate taking the top off of the Jeep. Actually, no, that's not true. I love it when the top is off. It's one of the top two reasons I got the Jeep. What I hate is attempting to put it back on. I've had friends tell me that they can get their soft-tops up and down on their own, with no assistance. I cannot do it unassisted. Someone else has to push the top down all the way, while I latch, or vice versa. I am not a weakling. But I just can't do it. I need a softer, more pliable top.

I hope that Easter brunch is profitable. I don't have to work Sunday evening. So, I got that going for me. I am in so good with our new Exec Chef. He loves me. Because 99% of the time, when I'm randomly quizzed about the new menu items, I know my shit. (ed. note - stupid gorgonzola cheese in the damn chop salad). And when he gets huffy, as all chefs seem wont to do, I make jokes and laugh off his temper. Which always calms him down. He was steamed yesterday, because things were getting fucked up. He said in a pre-shift that if he asked you a new menu item, and you didn't know it, he'd send you home. He was pissed about it, too. I piped up, "that's really stupid, because then you're shafting the rest of the servers by having only three on the lunch shift, and then everybody gets fucked, kitchen included because we all go down in the weeds. Make us do some shitty sidework, like cleaning gum from under the patio tables, but don't send us home. C'mon chef. *bats eyelashes*" And then he smiled.

I think I'm going to go take a bath. I bought some Mr. Bubble sensitive skin formula, and I have yet to soak in my hugemongous tub yet. :)