Oh well.
I�m crashing. It�s that moment when your body gets angry with being up for such an ungodly amount of time and that anger manifests itself as a tightly wound ball of sickness in your gut. The world leaves star trails when viewed too quickly. Even typing this with my now defunct wrist incites little starbursts of pain to shoot up my arm, ever increasing the nausea.
My eyes are ashtrays.
Filthy, disgusting little blackened pits.
But really, even at the zenith of the miserable events of the last few days, it sure feels good being behind a bar. My business partner was marveling at how I could enjoy such a mediocre job. I mean, there is nothing overly complicated about it, or even hard, but it�s got this charm to it. I push poison.
The first night was a little funky. Hell, I forgot what the fuck a sea breeze was. But last night, I got back into the swing of things and my speed picked up. The cocktail waitress all though I must have came from a club since I was so fast, and I was moving pretty slow!
But aside from the technical aspects of bartending, the social engineering side came back with ease. All the cocktail waitress are on my side, easily. They all love me, with most of them promising to tip me on the side to keep me on their respective shifts.
It�s interesting how I win them over. I�m just unassuming enough to be able to be flirtatious, cute, funny, and to shower them with flattery (they all love that), without them automatically assuming I�m doing it just to get in their pants. There are certain advantages to not being a pretty boy. I�m relatively harmless, looking :P. Of course, we probably all know I�m more like a wolf in sheep�s clothing. My personality doesn�t fit how I look, never really has.
I dunno, I still just love the job. It�s fun. This current place, however, sucks complete shit. But, well... It�ll serve for now until the next big thing comes��� which will hopefully be in a day or two :P.
In the mean time, this fucking wrist brace is pinching the hell out of the soft fleshy portion of my forearm as I type, and the pain meds are kicking in, making the already exacerbated exhaustion even more intolerable.
Oh, and to add on top of all that, some news today was the last coating of concert. I�m officially brokenhearted and miserably sad. Such is life.
-G