Someone just shoot me

I hate moving. I absolutely hate it. I'm sure my boyfriend will find absolute pleasure in reading this entry, being that I've begged him and my other roomate to move for the last six months. But now that it's finally here and we are actually moving, I just don't want to do it. My roomate, whom I love to death, is a big pain in my you-know-what because he just left us and moved back to Texas. I can't be mad at him though. It was an excellent job opportunity. He is now the bar manager of a pub located in his college town. He has been granted part ownership of the bar, working alongside his best friend, Brantley, and Brantley's father-in-law. Needless to say, he's doing very well for himself...much better than he was doing here as a bartender for Red Lobster. The lucky bastard has left me behind to take over his dirty work.

But anyways, after he left we were forced to find a new place in less than a month. We definitely couldn't afford this place without him helping out, and at the time no one was lookin for a place to live. So we were screwed.

The place we are moving into is much smaller than our place now. We've had to get rid of a lot of things that I wasn't ready to part with, especially my big backyard that I frequently throw my dogs in when it's nice outside. Now every time I need to take them out, they will have to be confined to a leash. That only allows them to be a couple of feet away from me at any given time.

And since when do apartment and townhome communities have so many rules and regulations?! I feel like from now on, every time I have to use the restroom I will be required to send in a written request. They have to have photos of my dogs on file, we have to give them copies of our vet information and all the shots and visits they have had, we can only use one guy to fix any cable problems we have...that's right, one guy for the whole Villa West complex. That's a big complex!They have to have confirmation numbers for our gas, electric, and water and trash. Someone please tell me...since when do apartments not pay for gas and water and trash!? It's ridiculous! They have even tried to say that both of our dogs are required to be fixed. Are they going to pay the hundreds of dollars it costs to have a dog fixed? I highly doubt it.

But, as Jim Carrey says, I guess that's the way the cookie crumbles. I don't know why I can't seem to stay in one place for more than a year or so. I'm only 21 and this will be the fifth place I've moved to! That seems a little crazy to me. But what can I do? I'm sure in a year or so I'll be packing up to move again. So, if this weekend's move doesn't get the best of me, I will be back next week to write some more.

out of my comfort zone

Living in Topeka, I don't have too many options for entertainment. Therefore, most of my free time is spent at the bars. It's an excellent source of entertainment, let me tell you (hopefully you picked up on the sarcasm). However, it's become the "convenient" thing to do on the weekends. I work all day and all night, so by the time I get off at 10 or 11 the only thing left to do is drink. As a result, I have become quite the regular at most the bars I go to. When I go in, I'm automatically recognized. I walk right by the big scary men at the front door checking id's, and therefore skip the part of paying any cover. They all know me by name, and I usually don't have to tell them what I want to drink. I'm incredibly spoiled with the service I receive.

You see, in the service industry, you tend to remember those who are in the same field of work. How do they remember us over the others, you might ask? We tip well. We tip very well. The reason we tip well is because we get taken care of. That's not to mention the fact that we too work for tips and have a general understanding of what they go through in a typical night. I strongly believe most people are clueless to what service industry workers put up with.

Anyways, back to my point. This weekend I was in Wichita with my parents. I had gone down on a Friday night with Tyler and we all went to see the Blues Travelers at the local performing arts center. After the concert was over we decided to go out for a few drinks. There was a little bar just down the road from my parent's new house. It looked really nice, so we decided to try it out. We walked in and it was nothing like we had expected. It was nice, but it was dead in there. There were hardly any people in what looked to be a brand new building. That should have been our first clue to find another place to go.

However, we decided to stay around and see what it was like. So, we sat down in a booth and kind of skimmed the place over. There appeared to only be one bartender working, but since it wasn't busy we didn't figure we would have to wait very long for service. Then, after about five minutes, a short stalky man with a baggy t-shirt and jeans walked over to us and looked at me and Tyler.

"I need to see your id," he muttered to me and my boyfriend. It was in such a friendly tone, might I add (again I hope you are picking up on the sarcasm).

After we both showed proof that we were of age to drink, he gave us a quick head-nod and walked back over to the pool table where his half-empty drink was waiting for him. We waited about five more minutes and then my dad finally decided it would be easier to go up to the bar and get our drinks.

I watched as he went up to the counter and sat down. The bartender, a female probably in her mid-twenties, had to have waited on four or five other people that had come in after us. She would spot someone she recognized and go straight to them. She would get their drinks and then sit to chat for a bit. Just when my temper was reaching a height I had never thought possible, she walked her way over to my dad to get his drink order. She had to be the rudest person I had ever encountered. Being a bartender myself, I couldn't believe she possibly make any money that way.

After she delivered the drinks, she took my dad's money and lazily brought back his change. My dad left her tip sitting on the bar, and before he could even get up, she had snatched up the money, threw it in her tip jar, and moved on to a couple sitting on the other side of the bar. I could have killed her. I couldn't believe she was being so rude. There wasn't one reason I could come up with that would constitute behavior like that...and then it hit me. Do I do that? Do I cut in front of people when I go to the bar? Do I take care of people I know or people I know will tip before I take care of the next person in line? Am I short with people when I'm busy or when I just don't feel like working?

I've noticed I'm much more aware of my surroundings now, both when I work and when I go out. I make sure I'm not jumping in line ahead of someone else. When I'm working, make sure to ask who was next if I don't know who came to the bar first.

I couldn't believe that lady in Wichita treated my dad that way. I only hope she has the same thing happen to her some day. Then, like me, maybe she will take a better look at how she handles herself.

The inner child lives!

There he was...peaceful as ever. Not five minutes after we had gotten back to my parents' house in Wichita, my boyfriend, Tyler, had crashed out in what he's claimed as "his chair". His arms were neatly folded across his chest, his mouth was wide open, and as usual he was snoring. I almost felt bad for what I was about to do, but I just couldn't help it. With the help of my father, who was feeling quite happy from the many drinks he had consumed throughout the evening, we came up with a brilliant plan to mess with Tyler in as many ways as possible.

I must admit, I could have never done it on my own. I was a virgin to the world of tormenting sleeping people, but my dad seemed to be an experienced professional. To prepare me for the big event, he entertained me with stories of awful things he had done to his friends growing up. After the stories, I had found a whole new level of respect for him.

Now it was time for the good stuff. We started by putting Tyler's hands in water to make him have to go to the bathroom, but we couldn't agree on what temperature the water needed to be. I proposed that we put one hand in cold water and one hand in hot. That's how I had seen it done on many movies growing up. My dad, on the other hand, insisted that one of each would only make Tyler constipated, and it was suppose to be either hot or cold...not both. I knew at that point that I wasn't going to win the argument, so I watched as my dad filled a tupperware bowl full of cold water and walk over to where Tyler was. He got down on one knee, laughing hysterically, and slowly pulled Tyler's left hand free. He stuck his fingertips in the water and let them sit for a minute...still laughing uncontrollably. I stood by and watched, trying not to bust a gut from holding my laughter in. When nothing seemed to come of the cold water, dad emptied the bowl and filled it with warm water. He had just stuck Tyler's hand in when my mother came walking out of her bedroom. She was furious! She couldn't believe we were messing with my poor boyfriend like that and she demanded that we both go to bed. Still giggling, we both assured her that we were done with the water and she disappeared back into the bedroom, still very upset with us both.

After we were sure she was gone, we moved on to our next plan...cheetos. I had finally rustled up enough courage to do this maneuver on my own, so I grabbed a chip and tiptoed over to where Tyler was still sleeping. I bent down and started to stick it in his nose, but I had to stop because I was shaking with laughter. I composed myself, and then went back in for the kill. After I accomplished my goal, I headed straight for the camera. There was no way I wasn't going to get physical evidence of our work.

My mom shortly returned to the living room where she continued to yell at us to go to bed. We could tell she was getting serious, so we decided to end our fun there. I gave dad a kiss goodnight and after he went to his bedroom, I woke Tyler up and told him to come to bed. He had no idea what we had just spent the last 20 minutes doing.

We went downstairs and Tyler immediately crashed on the bed while I changed into my pj's. I turned off the light and crawled into bed. I kissed Tyler on the forhead and gave out one more chuckle. He still was clueless. I recapped in my head what my dad and I had just done, and then rolled over to go to bed. Tyler still to this moment has no idea what happened (until he reads this blog entry!), but I can only hope that when I reach my dad's age I will still have my inner child in me.

This is so different!

So here I am...in Regina's feature writing class. I haven't had a class with her in a while now, so i'm kind of nervous. I forgot about all the stuff she piles on! =)But that's ok. I'm excited to get back into some writing. I changed my emphasis from newswriting to broadcasting...to public relations, so it's been a while since I've done any writing. Hopefully I won't be too horrible starting out.
So far the class seems like it should go pretty smoothly. I have a feeling it's going to be a fairly quiet class though. If I'm comparing it to the last class I had with Regina, this class is full of saints! I took advanced newswriting with Regina a year or so ago, and I'm pretty sure she hated us all by the end of the semester! However, I have to admit it was the most fun I had ever had in a class. With people like Blake Edwards, Beth Davis, Susan Crooks, and Laura Stillings who wouldn't have fun?! Blake definitely made the class fun and lively, and I thoroughly enjoyed the daily arguments between Blake and Beth. They made sure to loudly discuss their disagreements in front of the whole class.
While I'm just babbling, I might as well throw out there that I'm not too thrilled for my summer to be over already. It seemed like it was just getting started when I realized it was over! I didn't even get to do anything too exciting. I took a four day trip to Lake of the Ozarks, which was a lot of fun. I even scrounged up enough courage to go parasailing. If you know me at all, you know I'm deathly afraid of heights (and spiders). Other than that, I just worked. I bartend at Red Lobster, where I've worked for entirely too long. That place has started to feel like a second home to me, which isn't what I was aiming for. But getting back on the subject, I am hoping this semester will fly by, along with the other two semesters I have left after this one. I kind of have a heavy load for me, but I'm ready to get it over with. My boyfriend has been done with school for a while now, and he just loves to rub it in about how happy he is that he's done. The majority of my other friends are done with school as well, so I feel like I'm playing catch up! My biggest challenge this semester will be my spanish class! I have never taken a drop to spanish and now I have been thrown in a class where I have to get up and sound like a total goober in front of way too many people! But as long as I get through it, I'll be fine.
So, here's to a good semester and I hope you all have the same. I look forward to getting to know everyone better!