the sounds...
what's fantastic?
meeting friends on a freezing cold thursday night, waiting in line for a spell, and getting to hear a kick ass swedish band for FREE! that's fantastic. shaking my indie rock hair and tooshy, that's also fantastic. going home tired but humming with happiness to a hoodie and a comfy bed, also fantastic.
i can't believe it's the weekend before thanksgiving. simply cannot. or that i am going home tout suite. nope. that's fantatsic, but kind of unbelieveable. also like the souschefdom that will never be mine. i feel as if i am working toward a mirage. this goal is a delusion, and the more i try to compartmentalize and let the shit work itself out, the more i realize my boss will never follow through wtih his promises. and i don't feel super compelled to exert myself and be the suck up perfect cook he wants, because it's 2 and a half years later and i'm still not the fucking sous. i know i said i wouldn't write about it, but the futility is overwhelming me.
some days i just want to break down and cry. all i do is make fucking tart shells again, and muffin batter. what have i worked three years learning and busting my ass for? hunh? muffins and tart shells. that's my perpetual existence. sure, everyone's existence and livelihood can be distilled into a few trite tasks or elements. but i don't know how to get past it when other cooks at work point out the fact that i am always doing tart shells.
maybe if i had a life to distract from this shit i might feel less annoyed.
and my roommate told some friends that i might have a boyfriend, she didn't know yet... but since i haven't heard back from the dude from a week ago i definitely don't even have a friend, let alone a boy. whatever, i shouldn't date an actor anyway. and he was too short for me too. i'm so superficial. but it all boils down to the kiss ultimately. and it wasn't there for me. nope. i can get over difference of religion, ethnicity, height, body type, occupation from what i hold as my ideal, as long as the laughter and kissing are there. the laughter was sort of there, but not the smooching. there's something anatomical about a good kissing partner. face structure and all that... i'm such a nutjob.
time to cozy up to my hooded sweatshirt, night night...
boots.
meeting friends on a freezing cold thursday night, waiting in line for a spell, and getting to hear a kick ass swedish band for FREE! that's fantastic. shaking my indie rock hair and tooshy, that's also fantastic. going home tired but humming with happiness to a hoodie and a comfy bed, also fantastic.
i can't believe it's the weekend before thanksgiving. simply cannot. or that i am going home tout suite. nope. that's fantatsic, but kind of unbelieveable. also like the souschefdom that will never be mine. i feel as if i am working toward a mirage. this goal is a delusion, and the more i try to compartmentalize and let the shit work itself out, the more i realize my boss will never follow through wtih his promises. and i don't feel super compelled to exert myself and be the suck up perfect cook he wants, because it's 2 and a half years later and i'm still not the fucking sous. i know i said i wouldn't write about it, but the futility is overwhelming me.
some days i just want to break down and cry. all i do is make fucking tart shells again, and muffin batter. what have i worked three years learning and busting my ass for? hunh? muffins and tart shells. that's my perpetual existence. sure, everyone's existence and livelihood can be distilled into a few trite tasks or elements. but i don't know how to get past it when other cooks at work point out the fact that i am always doing tart shells.
maybe if i had a life to distract from this shit i might feel less annoyed.
and my roommate told some friends that i might have a boyfriend, she didn't know yet... but since i haven't heard back from the dude from a week ago i definitely don't even have a friend, let alone a boy. whatever, i shouldn't date an actor anyway. and he was too short for me too. i'm so superficial. but it all boils down to the kiss ultimately. and it wasn't there for me. nope. i can get over difference of religion, ethnicity, height, body type, occupation from what i hold as my ideal, as long as the laughter and kissing are there. the laughter was sort of there, but not the smooching. there's something anatomical about a good kissing partner. face structure and all that... i'm such a nutjob.
time to cozy up to my hooded sweatshirt, night night...
boots.
posted by cheffy boots @ 4:07 AM
1 Comments:
At 12:44 PM,
Devo said…
Dude, you got to go see Ace of Base?!??!! I'm like, SO, jealous!
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