Jumbo love

On Saturday night, I was bartending at a wedding. It was a pretty great wedding overall. The crowd was fun, I made a lot of money even though I wasn't allowed to put out a tip jar, and the staff working with me was super helpful.

I was standing behind the bar, minding my business, when all of a sudden the DJ got on the mic and made the following announcement:

"Will everyone who went to Tufts University please gather on the dance floor for a picture? Everyone who went to Tufts, please gather on the dance floor for a group photo."

WHAAAAT?

For a second I forgot whether I was working or attending this wedding seeing as the majority of the weddings I go to are Tufts weddings. But no, I was definitely working.

As everyone gathered for the picture, I scanned faces to see if I knew anyone. I didn't. Afterwards, one of the guys from the group came up to the bar, so I asked him about Tufts and it turns out the groom graduated from there in 2000. I told him I graduated in 2005 and he said I should have joined them for the picture. I'm sad I didn't think of this first, and even more sad that even if I had thought of it at the time, I knew I wouldn't have had the balls to run out there and jump in the photo. Doh.

Over the course of the night I had a number of great Tufts conversations with some fellow Jumbos. We bonded over having the same Philosophy professors, someone complained about the sheer volume of Tufts mail they receive (and told me I was the smartest person ever when I said that my Tufts mail goes to my parents' house), and another confessed that he never actually graduated even though they let him walk.

Overall, it was nice to have a reason to talk to some of the guests as opposed to just serving them drinks. Plus, talking about Tufts is one of my favorite things ever. So, double win. And maybe it got me some more tips. Triple win.

The trials and tribulations of NYC-BOS travel

I've mentioned this before, but I consider myself an expert on the multitude of options for traveling between New York and Boston. I've been making the trip on a fairly regular basis for the 5 years since I graduated college, and that doesn't even include the many times I did it during college. The best most amazing wonderful fabulous thing about graduating from b-school next month and peacing out of here is the fact that, for the first time in 9 years, I will have no reason to come back in the foreseeable future. The fact of the matter is, I am sick and tired of this short yet often painful journey. Every time I head to NYC, as I did this past weekend, I'm excited for what awaits me, yet a part of me dies inside from the very thought of getting on the bus.

Here is a list of things about traveling that I am excited to not have to deal with anymore, excluding even the ridiculous debacle from last month. These are pretty much all related to buses since that's what I do most frequently, but I am more than happy to complain about trains and planes too on request. =)

1) Broken wifi. My laptop is heavy and when the wifi promised to me doesn't work on my bus trip, it turns my computer into dead weight and my intention of being a productive student to crap.

2) Seat buddies who, even if they probably weigh no more than 100 pounds, somehow find a way to not be able to stay within their own seat and encroach on my space.

3) Phone conversations I'm not interested in. Today on the bus I learned that Amber is available to work the Stonyfield job on Sunday if they still need her to. She told this to at least 6 different people in whatever office she was calling.

4) Delays. Waiting for an hour and a half in the dead of winter for a bus that never shows up is fun. Not.

5) Stopping at a rest stop an hour from Boston. SO many bus companies insist on stopping at one of the various rest stops available to us at the tip of Massachusetts. This is annoying on the way to New York because hello, we haven't been on the bus that long, and it's annoying on the way back because hello, we're almost there just get me home already. There's a bathroom on the bus for anyone who needs it and all travelers should know to bring their own snacks.

6) People who talk to me. Do I look friendly? Do I give off the impression of caring that you're going to a bachelorette party? Well, I don't. Leave me alone.

7) Drivers who like to mix it up and take the most traffictastic routes through Manhattan. Note to all drivers: shockingly, Times Square traffic moves at the pace of molasses at rush hour.

8) Lack of temperature controls. I do not like being hot and I do not like being cold. Sadly, I don't often get the opportunity to be somewhere in the middle.

9) Overhead lights that don't work. I used to carry a flashlight with me for just such an occasion. Now I just try to travel during the day.

10) People who get on the bus while sick. Yes, I would love to listen to you sniffle or cough up a lung every 5 seconds, not to mention that I would also love to actually take your illness with me when I leave this bus.

I'm going to stop because I'm getting aggravated just writing this. However, it does bring me some comfort that I won't be getting back on that bus for 6 glorious weeks. Hell. Yes.

Pretty but stupid

Chad Ochocinco is a sexy, sexy man.

The thing is, his last name is OCHOCINCO. ON PURPOSE.

I'm sorry, but among the many good reasons that exist for changing your last name, mainly if you get married or your last name just happens to suck, the desire to reflect the numbers on the back of your jersey is not one of them.

Changing your last name to your football number is about as stupid as getting a tattoo. Yes, I realize many of you have tattoos. And yes, I think you're a fool for getting one. And no, I don't care how much those song lyrics or some cryptic symbol that most people don't understand reflects who you are or who you used to be or reminds you of someone who passed away. But it's okay, I'll still be your friend. But only the kind of friends who don't get matching tattoos.

Chad, even though you also did a sort of foolish thing by making a kinda-sorta-permanent life change in order to reflect something that's really only temporary, I will still be your friend. Mostly because you're hot. If you and Cheryl Burke break up (are they even together? Does anyone know? Why is she wearing his "thank you" diamond ring on her ring finger?), call me.

Nicole Scherzinger, you can call me too. You are also hot and I would like to be in the Pussycat Dolls. Let's discuss.

Now that Buzz Aldrin is gone, there are some seriously sexy people left on Dancing With the Stars.

I love television.

"I'm one stomach flu away from my goal weight"

Any woman who has ever wanted to lose even one pound would be lying if she said she wasn't secretly jealous of people who lost weight from being violently ill (you've thought this too, don't lie).

As I have finally recovered from my first stomach virus in...13 or so years, I am here to say that IT IS NOT WORTH IT.

Having to run off the bus when you're only halfway home because you think you're about to be sick, and then calling your roommate to come pick you up because there isn't another bus for 45 minutes? NOT WORTH IT.

Laying in bed for 7 hours and not sleeping at all because of intense nausea interspersed with bouts of stomach pain that feel like someone has a death grip on your internal organs? (Plus, you know, the intermittent trips to the bathroom to vomit). NOT WORTH IT.

Missing both work and class because you can barely walk from the couch to your bedroom to get a hoodie when, by the way, there is no reason for you to be in a hoodie, fleece pants and nap socks when it's almost 80 degrees outside? NOT WORTH IT.

100.1 fever? Every muscle in your body aching? Being hot, cold, light-headed and nauseous all at the same time? NOT WORTH IT.

I lost 6 pounds in 36 hours and friends, you could not pay me enough to go through that again.

But on the bright side, I am alive and well and my appetite is back and I can actually go downstairs to get the mail. And no, it was not food poisoning (I'm not sure why everyone asks that right after I blatantly say "stomach virus") and yes, I know where I got it from and you can read about it here! If you read the article, which about 1 of you will, you will see that even though I was alone in my apartment, I was clearly not alone in my suffering.

Admitting defeat

You know what's impossible? Folding fitted sheets.

This is particularly unfortunate for me because fitted sheets are the only kind that I use. I grew up in a flat-sheet-less household and to this day I have no idea what the flat sheet is for. You are welcome to use the comment section to try and sell me on the flat sheet idea, but I promise you, I will never become a flat sheet user.

Seriously, though. How on earth do you make something look nice when it has crinkly elastic around the entire border? Every time I wash one of my sheets I put in a concerted effort to folding it and it always comes out looking like a big pile of ineptitude.

You find me someone who can properly fold a fitted sheet and I will find you Santa Claus or the messiah or someone else who simply does not exist. Or my grandma. While I happen to know that my grandma uses sheets that are fitted only at the corners and are thus much easier to fold, I bet she could fold one of my sheets. My grandma is the best folder I know. She is lightyears ahead of the second best folder I know, which is me. Every time I come home, my mom asks me to fold the laundry because I'm so excellent at it. True story.

I could probably get my grandma to teach me to fold my fitted sheets, except for the fact that she is far more patient and meticulous than I am and I am simply not prepared to spend the requisite 45 minutes that she would in order to get that sheet folded. So instead, I will live my life with fitted sheets that look like this:


Oh well.

The price of beauty

Women do the most ridiculous things in the name of beauty. We wear shoes that hurt our feet, stockings that restrict us from breathing, and put chemicals...pretty much everywhere.

I recently sent a text message to Lacey because she had mentioned that she had a product for her nails and cuticles to make them nicer, and I wanted in. I asked her what it was, and she responded with, "Healthy Hoof. It's what trainers use on horses."

Now, considering that people use Preparation H to reduce the appearance of under-eye bags, I shouldn't really have been surprised by the absolute absurdity of what she said. But I was.

I mean, really? We've gone as low as putting horse cream on our hands? My nails may not be the nicest ever and I may have shredded cuticles from unintentionally picking at them, but when I look at my hands I certainly do not think, "Man, these mitts of mine sure do look like horsey hooves."

Naturally, I had no idea where I was supposed to go buy this horse cream. So I asked, figuring I would have to purchase it from some weirdo horse groomer supply website. But oh no, Lacey told me I could find it at any drugstore. "Where?" I thought. "The barnyard aisle?"

I went to CVS and found it by the rest of the nailcare things (obviously). So I guess this pony stuff has become a bit more mainstream and I can rest easy knowing that my friends don't actually go and use real horse products. And while I am mildly reassured that the tub does say that it's intended for nails and cuticles, it also says quite blatantly that it contains "the original equestrian formula used by horse trainers." Is this supposed to make me want to use it more? Because last I checked, horse things are not typically meant for people (this includes PCP, AKA horse tranquilizers. People, don't take weird animal drugs, please).

While it hasn't been long enough for me to tell whether or not my new hoof cream is doing any real good, my cuticles do feel pretty soft. So I guess I'm okay with this new, slightly absurd addition to my beauty regimen. And when the next ridiculous thing comes along, I may just hop on that bandwagon too. Gotta look gorgeous somehow, right? Right.

My super power

If I could have any super power, I would want to be able to fly. Hands down. None of this being invisible garbage, flight is where its at.

Sometimes I think about the more realistic super powers that I would like to have. Like being able to sing really well. It's not normally thought of as a super power, but seeing as, you know, people can't fly, stuff of that nature is really all we have to work with.

As much as I'd love to be able to belt it like Whitney, the power I think I would want most in the world would be the ability to fall asleep anytime, anywhere. I know tons of people like this (the men in my family, sorority sisters, other assorted friends), and they probably take it all for granted. But let me tell you, when you are NOT one of these people, you OH SO WISH you were. Planes, bus rides, anytime I happen to be bored..if I could just close my eyes and drift off to sleep, my life would be that much better. But no, I suck at sleeping at random times.

I do, however, have a power that I think a lot of others would be envious of. And it's sort of related to the power I wish I had.

I am really good, and I mean REALLY good, at functioning on little to no sleep. I know people who are all "OH GOD WAH WAH if I don't get at least 8 hours of sleep I just want to die the next day." But not me! And I do it all without caffeine.

The other day, I went to bed around 12:30, for no reason other than I was doing important things like watching The Colbert Report and playing Rock Band on my iPod. I got up at 5:40 to be at work by 7, got home from work at 2:15, ate lunch and checked my email, then left at 3:30 to go to work AGAIN. I got home at 11:30 and though my feet hurt like a mofo, I realized that, at no point during the day did I ever feel tired. Which is handy when you're running around like a crazy person trying to appear chipper for what amounted to a grand total of 13 hours on my feet.

This is pretty normal for me. No matter how many hours of sleep I got the night before, I'm out of bed within 10 seconds of my alarm goes off and by the time I'm at the bathroom to brush my teeth I'm alive and alert. I might be hating my life for having to wake up when it's still dark out because WHY IS WORK ASKING ME TO SHOW UP AT UNGODLY HOURS WITH AN INCREASING FREQUENCY but at least I know I can make it through the day, no matter what.

I'm pretty thankful for this super power because I see how tired other people are. Not only that, but I really can never get myself to go to bed all that early. Even when I was working or last year when I actually went to school every single day, both times I had to be present and ready to go at 8:30 and I still never went to bed before 11:30 (at the earliest). My roommate wakes up around 8 to go to work and for real, that girl is in bed by 9. If she's still alive at 10 when I am undoubtedly settling in to watch TV I remind her that it's past her bedtime and she laments that she really should have gone to bed forever ago.

So there you have it. My useful but not that exciting super power. I'm still holding out for someone to discover the power of human flight, though.

Notes to event attendees, from your waitstaff

Happy Good Friday! If you think I have any idea what Good Friday is about, you clearly haven't been reading this blog too long. Here is the second installment of me trying to catch the world up on my catering job.

While I don't attend fancy events on a regular basis, I've certainly been to a number of catered affairs. And sometimes you just don't think about the people on the other side. Here are some things your staff would like you to know:

1) If I am trying to clear your plate, pour you more water, or, you know, anything that helps you, try and make my life that much easier. When I'm carrying a dinner plate that is probably a) heavy b) hot or c) both, it would be nice if you would remove your purse/program/hands from the spot where your plate is supposed to go. And I mean now, not when you're done with your conversation.

2a) If you don't want any of the hors d'oeuvres that I'm passing around, say "no, thank you" or "I'll pass" or even just look me in the eye or ANYTHING that indicates that you don't want some. Do NOT pretend that you don't see me. You do. I will go away faster if you tell me you don't want the food on my tray than if you just ignore me as I try to figure out what you want.

2b) Please realize that, when passing hors d'oeuvres, it is MY JOB to insert myself into your circle in order to ask if anyone wants anything. I know it's annoying to have your conversation interrupted, but that's what I'm getting paid to do. Far more people will eat from a passed tray if you ask them directly than if you wander around waiting for someone to approach you. Try not to act like the world has come crashing down.

3) More often than not, there are garbage cans. Not only that, but there are people whose job it is to go around collecting trash and empty plates or glasses. If you see me with food, wine, water, or really anything that is NOT garbage, do not assume it is okay to dump your garbage on me as I pass by. I will always accept it graciously, but it doesn't mean I like it.

4) TIP YOUR BARTENDERS. Even if there is no tip jar. ESPECIALLY if there is no tip jar. Catering bartenders aren't allowed to put out tip jars probably 90% of the time. They do not make a higher hourly wage than the waiters. I know that it's open bar because you paid whatever to get in to this event, but find your wallet and give them a dollar. Just because there's no tip jar doesn't mean they can't accept tips. They will love you if you go out of your way to tip. And bartenders are always good friends to have.

5) Contrary to what you may think, catering is not the same as working in a restaurant. By this I mean we are not supposed to eat the food so that we can give honest opinions as to what we like. In fact, most of the time we aren't allowed to eat any of the food at all, except maybe when the event is over (yes, we are totally sneaking food when we can, but this isn't the point). So while I can and should know what everything is, I likely don't know what it tastes like. Don't be annoyed. Remember, the food is FREE. If you want to try it, try it. If you don't like it, no harm done.

More to come later, I'm sure.