well, yes. today i have done nothing again at work, but in a more productive way than of the very recent yore. well-targeted web browsing in conjunction with a lunch on the roof and a 3:30 borders break helped to aerate the monotony a little bit, but i still sit braindead in front of my computer 7 hours a day. downloading recipes. getting metro directions to target. using the pennintouch worksheet. oh, this dilbert archipelago i find myself in...well, it's nothing unique, i'm sure. but what i shudder to think is that i did this at SCHOOL too. without getting paid. and i thought that i was having fun!
i also got a job working at a japanese restaurant called hibachi brothers, on upperish wisconsin avenue, right by the tenleytown stop. at least when i come home in the evenings, it will be once again enveloped in the aura of a stickysweet smell of meat and heat...
a japanese restaurant retrospective
5/20/2001 12:08:33 AM
i hear all sorts of things, or have for the last four days whilst slaving at ho'sho. "you have to discipline the kids". that's not really funny, but okay. i say stuff like "we have a merlot", "sure thing!" and um like "ah, liquid dessert" [sake anyone?...doh] exhaustion. pain. fake smile. i have like soy sauce henna on my arms. but at the end of the night the parking lot air smells so xylem-y sweet, and i'm not working 12 hours tomorrow. and i'm not getting sexually harassed on a sunday, which is the most i can do for the big S.E. the first time i cut my hair it was 15% to stop all unwanted thai chef attax. that was two years ago.
1/1/2001 2:33:02 AM
su-per cres-cent fresh! why do i love working so much? 'manual labor' 'service industry' 'new york state's finest champagne' woo. and yes on new year's (eve). consider for instance that i am the asian countess de hohenlohe and that the song 'yellow' was dedicated to me...whoa. anyway so aside from any obvious reasons, and the other reasons which are less cheeky more lippy, it's because it frees me from the impatience which turned me from a neat to a messy. and that is why i made myself a nicens dinner at 2 o' clock tonight and why i will clean my contacts before retiring. teriyaki sauce marinating the right hand and all you can do is wait. smile, smile, smile. or don't, but look intense, hot, spicy, recalcitrant, repentant, hungry, cinderella. a certain kind of posse which frequents o'sho. if i were being rill tiresome and nonfrenchical i'd say like 'nouveaux biches', i'm just feeling tiresome so i'll just have mentioned it. but yes, this specific kind of 'hot' woman. and some men. some hand me their soup bowls, some don't. whatever, i'm soooooo tired. soft kisses. of the 'hot' women and their men. fifteen bucks on the side for quick soup'n'salad retrieval. super cres.
7/30/2000 12:38:30 AM
the zen derived peculiarly from bussing a ZILLION tables at o'sho restaurant (located on south road in poughkeepsie)
the supreme tunnel vision of seeing only plates awash in butter grease, glasses hollowed and perishing under lipstick stains and ravaged ice cubes, as your pores become brimfilled with smoke
occasionally a thought nudges its way into some prominence. a rhyme. a ditty. a philosophy on life. you swat it away 'with the easiness'. if the ditty is really flavorful you mouth the words as you bus bus bus bus bus.
driving back home with your dress between your legs, your car smelling like strawberry auto fragrance for the first time in its blushing adolescence, route 9 lit by orderly ranks of streetlights
you can really see how over the past two years, i've grown less intelligent - or - less successfully lyrical:pretentious. i just tells it like i sees it, now...
i also got a job working at a japanese restaurant called hibachi brothers, on upperish wisconsin avenue, right by the tenleytown stop. at least when i come home in the evenings, it will be once again enveloped in the aura of a stickysweet smell of meat and heat...
a japanese restaurant retrospective
5/20/2001 12:08:33 AM
i hear all sorts of things, or have for the last four days whilst slaving at ho'sho. "you have to discipline the kids". that's not really funny, but okay. i say stuff like "we have a merlot", "sure thing!" and um like "ah, liquid dessert" [sake anyone?...doh] exhaustion. pain. fake smile. i have like soy sauce henna on my arms. but at the end of the night the parking lot air smells so xylem-y sweet, and i'm not working 12 hours tomorrow. and i'm not getting sexually harassed on a sunday, which is the most i can do for the big S.E. the first time i cut my hair it was 15% to stop all unwanted thai chef attax. that was two years ago.
1/1/2001 2:33:02 AM
su-per cres-cent fresh! why do i love working so much? 'manual labor' 'service industry' 'new york state's finest champagne' woo. and yes on new year's (eve). consider for instance that i am the asian countess de hohenlohe and that the song 'yellow' was dedicated to me...whoa. anyway so aside from any obvious reasons, and the other reasons which are less cheeky more lippy, it's because it frees me from the impatience which turned me from a neat to a messy. and that is why i made myself a nicens dinner at 2 o' clock tonight and why i will clean my contacts before retiring. teriyaki sauce marinating the right hand and all you can do is wait. smile, smile, smile. or don't, but look intense, hot, spicy, recalcitrant, repentant, hungry, cinderella. a certain kind of posse which frequents o'sho. if i were being rill tiresome and nonfrenchical i'd say like 'nouveaux biches', i'm just feeling tiresome so i'll just have mentioned it. but yes, this specific kind of 'hot' woman. and some men. some hand me their soup bowls, some don't. whatever, i'm soooooo tired. soft kisses. of the 'hot' women and their men. fifteen bucks on the side for quick soup'n'salad retrieval. super cres.
7/30/2000 12:38:30 AM
the zen derived peculiarly from bussing a ZILLION tables at o'sho restaurant (located on south road in poughkeepsie)
the supreme tunnel vision of seeing only plates awash in butter grease, glasses hollowed and perishing under lipstick stains and ravaged ice cubes, as your pores become brimfilled with smoke
occasionally a thought nudges its way into some prominence. a rhyme. a ditty. a philosophy on life. you swat it away 'with the easiness'. if the ditty is really flavorful you mouth the words as you bus bus bus bus bus.
driving back home with your dress between your legs, your car smelling like strawberry auto fragrance for the first time in its blushing adolescence, route 9 lit by orderly ranks of streetlights
you can really see how over the past two years, i've grown less intelligent - or - less successfully lyrical:pretentious. i just tells it like i sees it, now...