Day one hundred and thirty nine: murder house

The New Shop has the creepiest basement in all of Winnipeg. My old apartment's laundry room that looked like an abandoned mental institution with it's sea foam green walls doesn't even come close. I do my best to stay out of if because it feels like a murder house (a house where people are murdered). 

Every time I’ve had to go into the basement I make sure to bring someone down with me, preferably someone less agile so that if I need to flee, no one will be in my way.

The New Shop is haunted and even though everyone knows that ghosts only come out at night I still find myself a little on edge, which in turn makes me an easier target for trickery.

It doesn’t take much to make me jump or give out a little (blood curdling) scream which some of the staff (all) think it’s fun to do to me on a weekly (daily) basis.

A couple days ago I was so startled by the Chef jumping out from behind a wall that I screamed then threw an empty plastic soda crate at him before I topped backwards and fell on the floor. What can I say? I’ve got unreal survival instincts.

So in order to get back at him I thought I’d hide in the freezer and pop out when he opened it.

My mom didn’t like this when I told her about this after the fact because even though I didn’t get locked in the freezer, there was still a chance I could have gotten locked in the freezer and that “doesn’t sit well” with her.

Fun fact: I am awful at scaring people because I start laughing right before the scaring takes place. I think it’s a nervous tick.

His reaction left much to be desired as far as fright is concerned as he barely batted an eye and left out a relaxed "whoa." Ideally, I’d like it to be along the lines of this: 

Suggestions welcome.

Day eighty nine: fast food

Between my two jobs I rarely have the time or the energy to cook for myself anymore. I haven't been grocery shopping in ages and I haven't yet come across a recipe that calls for chick peas, jam and Bisquick (the contents of my cupboard and/or fridge). 

Tonight I rolled up to the Burger King drive-thru for a delicious Whopper with cheese meal. I got Coke Zero to drink so it totally balances out. 

Burger King is the most delicious of all fast food in my opinion and they have coupons all the time. McDonalds is gross. If the Burger King and Ronald McDonald got into a fight, you know that the Burger King would win because he's got  

What awful drive thru food lacks in true sustenance, it makes up for in free condiments. I haven't paid for ketchup in months. 

Sure I will suffer, dearly, the consquences for eating a Whopper over the next couple of days with gut rot, self loathing and the assorted ailments that are associated with such but if, for whatever reason, I find myself needing Zesty Dipping Sauce or honey mustard in a pinch, I'm all set. 

The key to getting fresh fast food is to make modifications to the burger. Yes, I like a Whopper the way it is but if I'm going to clog my arteries an bring myself one step closer to adult diabetes - by way of food - I'm going to make sure my grub is hot and fresh. It's as simple as asking for extra lettuce or for the cheese to be placed directly on the bun. This ensures a freshly made burger at no extra cost.

Day fifty: pens.

Pens. Pens are precious to a a server. We use them to write down orders (in theory) and give them to tables to sign credit card slips. Those are basically the only two functions pens serve for a server but they are important nonetheless.


I usually find myself pocketing a pen when one is in proximity not unlike that of a lighter. Truth be told I  think all of my pens and lighters have had previous owners.


I snagged a great pen the other day. It's no four colour clickie pen but it was a doozy.



Click once and the ink filled tip emerges from it's soft grip chamber. Click twice and that soft grip lights up like a free-gift-with-purchase keychain-flashlight from the beer vendor.


It was amazing. So amazing that I abandoned my "finders keepers" mentality and asked around in hopes of finding it's rightful owner. No one claimed it so thus began our short-lived time together.


I showed everyone my killer pen, sometimes twice until one afternoon another server, we'll call her "Jerk Face" said it was her pen. I told her I was keeping it because the statue of limitations on pens had expired and it was too awesome to give up. Surprisingly Jerk Face let me keep it because normally she'd be a jerk face (hense the nickname) and snatch it back.


It was too good to be true.


Just a few short days later my general manager would ask me for my pen and like a fool I gave her my prized possession. She has since NOT returned said pen and in fact taunts me with it everyday. She says she's keeping it forever and even takes it home each night.


I want my effing pen back.