In direct opposition to that picture I just reblogged, I ran into my boss yesterday. Let’s back up to the night before, when it all started. We got a new bartender at work about a month ago, and he is officially my favorite bartender ever. He gives me a lot of free drinks. I like free drinks. So, the other night, I decided that I was going to get drunk after work and then sleep on Devin’s couch instead of driving all the way back to tosa. Devin was going to meet me for a few drinks, and we could walk back to his place together. Then he was like, “I really don’t want to go out, but I’ll come pick you up at bar time.” So, that’s cool.
Bar time rolled around, and Devin was like, “Just walk. I’m tired.”
But walking through Riverwest, drunk, by yourself at 3 in the morning is maybe not the best idea. So, the new bartender was like, “It’s not really out of the way, if you stay here while I close up, I’ll walk you to your friend’s house.” It was a longer walk than I thought, so it was good to have the company. Also, he had two beers in his jacket, so we were all breakin’ the law and walking around with open intoxicants. It was rad.
In the morning, Devin and I went out for sandwiches, and he dropped me off at my car (which was still parked outside of work). I fished my keys out of the bottom of my bag, unlocked my car door, and was about to get in when I heard a voice calling, “Caaaaaroline! CAROLIIIIINE!!”
I turned to see my boss standing in the doorway of the restaurant, so I waved and started to walk over to say hello.
That’s when she started yelling, “WALK OF SHAME! WALK OF SHAME!” and pointing at me.
I decided to take my new bike out for a test-ride. Knowing how grossly out of shape I am, I figured I’d start small, so I biked a mile and a half to the bus stop, got on the bus, and then got off a few stops before I had to and biked the rest of the way to Devin’s. It was good. It was real good, actually. I was unstoppable! We went to procure grillin’ supplies, and I looked at Devin like he was nuts when I didn’t seem stressed out about carrying a huge bag of charcoal and a fair amount of beer home on his bike.
Then he was like: Hello, this is my job? And I felt stupid and lazy.
The day passed pretty slowly— we sat around and got drunk and ate food, biked to another barbeque a few blocks away. Then, Devin told me that I had to bike ALL THE WAY HOME, and that he would show me. We took the longer way with less traffic, I guess. It was like, 11 miles. I have not ridden my bike 11 miles since I was probably about 12 years old. It was terrible. When we finally got home, I drank two glasses of water in rapid succession and sat outside without pants on. My shame was gone. It was so gone.
Due to my exhaustion, I fell asleep crazy early, and woke up at like, 9:30. Well, I guess I was scared awake at 9:30 by Devin. Who apparently does not know how to use a front door or knock. Christ.
Verdict: never biking to riverwest again. Definitely never believing a bike messenger when they say it’s “an easy ride.”
So, Meghan never cooks, which means I can’t really fault her for this, but seriously! I am making a cake for Vanessa because her birthday was Monday, and she is coming to stay with me. But this cake is going to suck. I couldn’t find a power mixer, which is cool because I just used a regular whisk and it was fine. But then! We don’t have round cake pans. No cake pans anywhere! I looked in every single cabinet, cupboard, and closet. Found none! So, I used a 13x9 pan, but that totally fucks up my like, plan of fruit filling. How can I put filling in a cake that is only one layer?! HOW DO I DO THIS?!
Also, I found a measuring cup that was only in metric.
I CAN’T WORK UNDER THESE CONDITIONS.
I think I’m just stressed out because I now have two job interviews tomorrow, which cuts in to my plan of taking a nap between my job interview and Vanessa getting here. Also, I’ve been polling all the women in my life to find out if I can wear a nice pair of black jeans to a job interview because target doesn’t make dress pants small enough to fit me (shut up). I’m at an even split between the “yes” and “no” camps. Fuck everything. I’m wearing jeans and I’m going to somehow use this blackberry filling in my cake.
I don’t care anymore, you guys.
So, I went in to work the other day to find that I had been taken off the schedule. I talked to my bosses about it and they were like: oh, we thought you quit because you got that other job. To which I replied: I damn well did not quit, and unless I every say to you, “I quit,” you should assume that I have not quit.
And they were like: lol, sorry. we filled your position.
So. Now I have no jobs. I called my dad to complain because he’s a good listener who has been fucked over many times by employers. He comiserated and was generally really awesome about cheering me up. He just called me back and was like: I need your address. So, I gave it to him. And then he was like: I’m going to send you some money. It might not be a lot because I’m not working now either, but it’ll be enough to buy some ramen noodles for a while, fill up your gas tank, whatever.
My mother is infinitely more secure financially than my father, and every time I call her to complain about how broke I am, or how I’m not getting paid enough at work, and to tell her that I won’t be able to pay her back for school for a while, she just harps on me about not saving my money and buying frivolous shit.
Why is my brokeass republican father so much more generous than my middle-class liberal mother?
My roommate, Selena, texted me tonight and was like, “Let’s go to Milwaukee when you get off work!”
And I was like: “Okay!”
So, I called my mom to see if I could borrow her car (because my car is a piece and won’t make it to Milwaukee). I told her that Selena left some shit she needed for her physics final in West Allis and desperately needed a ride back tonight to get it. Judy agreed. So, 11.15 rolls around, I’m leaving work. I drop the death star off at Judy’s, and start driving her car into Madison.
THEN. DISASTER STRIKES.
I stop at a stoplight, and the car starts making this really terrifying noise. It’s like CHUG-CHUG-CHUG-CHUG. And I’m sitting there like, “Oh fuck it’s 11.30, and Selena and I want to go to some party in Milwaukee, and we’re never going to make it there.”
A series of frenzied phone calls later, and I’ve got Luke at my house in McFarland ringing the doorbell until my mom wakes me, Selena knows I’m not going to be home for a while, and for whatever reason, one of my mom’s friend’s husbands just happens to be driving down 51 and wants to call AAA for me.
Get this. This dude is taking his son to buy starcraft. That’s the only reason he’s out at 11.45. To buy starcraft. So we’re sitting there waiting for this tow truck when not one, but two cops show up. They’re all like: What’s going on, ya’ll? And we’re like: My car’s busted. We’re waiting for a tow truck.
Judy shows up. So, this is my mom’s car, this dude, two cops, and a mazda miata, all in an exit lane at midnight on a Monday. We’re waiting for Prairie Land towing when a Schmidt’s tow truck shows up. Two cops, a tow truck driver, and a casual car entusiast all determine that my mom’s car is now worthless (an essential part of the frame broke). This is not my fault in any way.
Judy and I hop back in the miata and drive back to McFarland.
Selena had the hookah set up for me when I got home. I am on my second beer and ready for bed.
AND THAT’S WHY YOU NEVER LIE TO YOUR PARENTS ABOUT WHY YOU WANT TO GO TO MILWAUKEE AT 11 AT NIGHT.