Waiting on Ashton Kutcher to jump out from behind a tree

Seriously? Have you ever had one of those moments in life where you thought any of the following...

Those are five hours I'll never get back.
Is this a practical joke? I thought they did away with Candid Camera?
Oh...wait...it must be Punk'd. Am I on Punk'd? Where is Ashton Kutcher?
Are you 'effin kidding me?
Is this really happening to me right now?
Did I actually pay for this kind of torture?

I think you catch my drift. Today's blog has absolutely nothing to do with weight loss or anything of the sort. It just has to do with what was quite possibly the biggest waste of my money...like...ever. Here's the down low on tonight's events...I had to take a training course to obtain a permit to serve alcohol at a restaurant. If I don't get it, I like, well, don't have a job. So, I had to pay $65 for a training class on serving alcohol to get a permit. Blah, blah. I would like to say that I paid $65 for a freak show. The lady who trained us was c to the razy. I mean, really. Here's a breakdown of some of the stupid crap she said/did and my inner monologue.

5:30 - I am informed that the trainer ("Ms. V") is running late. Wow. How very professional of her.
5:40 - Ms. V aka "Satan's favorite worker" arrives looking quite flustered.
5:42 - Ms. V tells me quite rudely, "What are you doing? Go back in the back room where everyone else is." Oh no. she. didn't.
5:45 - Ms. V is visibly upset that she has to train 12 people instead of four. Oh, I was mistaken. I thought this was her job.
5:50 - Ms. V tells us that she needs her payment of $65 and our driver's license card. She then tells us that she will not accept any id that has been destroyed, etc. Oh crap. Mine has a small bubble in the lamination. This crazy lady will think I have a fake ID.
6:00 - Crazy lady closely examines my ID like I am a criminal and rubs her nasty fingers across my ID until the bubble disappears. She informs me that she will let it slide this time but that my ID could be considered an "inappropriate form of identification". What in the hell is wrong with this lady? This was my first thought that I seriously might be on the Mid-South's version of Punk'd.
6:01 - Crazy lady asks me if I was aware that my ID could be considered an unacceptable form of identification. Roll my eyes and tell her sarcastically, "No, maam. I was  not aware." 
6:02 until what seems like eternity - Satan's worker forces each of us to read word for word each paragraph in the training manual. Not sure what hell consists of, but am fairly sure it consists of Ms. V sitting beside me, forcing me to read my every mistake out loud.
Special note: Ms. V was too stupid to pick up on the fact that there was a girl there who couldn't really read. She said to the girl, "Um...girl, you are gonna have to speak up louder." Finally, the girl's friend said, "She can't read that well." Ms. V's response: "Well just skip her then." OMG! What a total bi-otch.
AND...before we could get to the next person to read, Ms. V would respond rudely with, "Next person please!!" (Insert me growing more and more frustrated. And forcing myself to shut up before I get kicked out of this ridiculous training session.)
8:00 - Since she is treating us like 5 year olds, I wonder if I should raise my hand and say, "Ms. V, can I go to the potty? I need to make a pee pee."
8:15 - Ms. V says she will be "nice" and let us eat dinner for 10 minutes. Wow. I wonder if she unlocks her children from the basement and allows them 10 minutes to eat?
8:20 - Ms. V tells the waitress that she "must" take our salads away from the table because the onion smell is giving her a headache. Seriously? Where is Ashton Kutcher? I just know he's about to jump out from behind a tree any minute. 
8:30 - Ms. V brings out a visual aid explaining to us how to do long division in order to calculate the measurements of alcoholic beverages. Then she tells us we should know 4th grade math, but she is convinced some of us in the room will fail the test if she doesn't cover the 4th grade math. Wow. Wonder if I can escape long enough to go slit her tires?
9:30 - Ms. V finally wraps up her 4th grade math lesson. This is 5 hours I will never get back. And I had to actually pay for this torture.
9:35 - I ask Ms. V if my answers are right on my practice questions. She looks at me like an idiot and says, "I guess." ARGGGGGG!!!!!
10:00 - Ms. V tells us we can take our tests. She cautions us to not cheat. And hovers over each one of us like a hawk making sure we do no such thing.
10:30 - Ms. V informs me I passed.
10:31 - Walk out to the parking lot cautiously...because I'm still waiting on Ashton to jump out from behind a tree.

P.S. I'm not a genius...but I can almost bet that Ms. V was once an elementary school teacher who was fired for her "teaching techniques".
 

Update on my scale must be broken...

The update is: my scale IS in fact broken. Or at least defective. And I can say this with confidence because I tested my suspicion that something had gone way wrong with my scale. I stepped onto the scale in my birthday suit. Then I stepped back on the scale, fully clothed, with shoes...and while holding a rather large decorative iron cross. And the scale read the same weight. SO - glad to know my scale is currently taking a hiatus from accurate readings. 

I refuse to spend another $30ish dollars on another digital scale. So, I will now be forced to frequent my local doctor's office to weigh in each week - or buy a cheap $10 scale.

With that said - I have no idea what I really weigh. But I know my pants are loose and don't cut off the circulation quite as much as a couple of months ago. Yay for healthy blood circulation. That's got to be a good thing.

Goin' all Taylor Swift on ya...part one

If you are even remotely aware of who Taylor Swift is, you know that she is famous for calling out dudes she's dated in her love songs. I like that about her. Taylor isn't mysterious. She puts it out there. I'm like her in that way. I often times wish I were more mysterious like those cool girls in the movies. But I'm just not like that. I will tell you what I think (probably with more words than are required) and I rarely keep my feelings to myself.
So - I thought it might be fun to write a little something about some of the guys I've dated (or not dated). The purpose is pure fun and entertainment. Some guys I am leaving out for that reason. But...for your entertainment...here goes my first installment of "Goin' all Taylor Swift on ya". Sit back - grab some popcorn (or cheese fries) and enjoy.
P.S. Names have been changed.

Freddy - First guy I ever held hands with. Aww. And, why yes, it was at the local skating rink. And he was such a good skater. He could even skate backwards. I really knew how to pick the good guys back then. We held hands so long...we got the sweaty hands. Kinda gross. But for an 11 year old, it was totally cool.

Bradley - First guy I phone stalked. You know, where you call and hang up like 14 times trying to get up enough courage to utter a word. (But instead you just breathe heavily on the other end.) Somehow me and Bradley ended up on some sort of school bus road trip together. I annoyingly punched him in the arm every time we passed by a BP gas station (his initials) and said, "Hey! BP!" Come to think of it, I'm not surprised he avoided me every time I passed him in the hallway of my middle school. But shouldn't I have gotten some kind of credit for being creative and using his name while being annoying?

Justin - Oh Justin. He's still hot. Seriously. (But a major jerk - at least the last contact I had with him he was.) He was the first guy to get me a balloon with a teddy bear in it (so cool in 1990). If a stuffed balloon isn't love, please tell me what is. (P.S. We also had a lot of super-hot hand holding sessions in the local movie theatre.) Good thing I have no idea where he is now. Because I'd probably be stupid enough to date him again. (Still can't get over the balloon.)
 
Randall - First guy I seriously thought I wanted to marry. (I was 12). I took piano lessons from his sister just to hang out with him. (Desperate much?) I rode my first roller coaster just to impress him. I begged our band director to let me hold his sheet music during the football games. It was quite pitiful. And I thought I would die when I found out he liked someone so much older (16). I had enough guts to call him and just ask him point blank: will you be my boyfriend? He said no. Fast forward: He was 3 years older than me and when I became a little bit older, he asked me out. Guess who said no this time?

Bobby - First guy I ever really kissed. And it was a Valentine's Day party. How perfect was that? Such a good kisser. (Probably still is. Damn him!) And that perfect kiss led to my first ever heartache. Still randomly see him out and around. And still blush.

Tom - Sweetest guy friend ever. The guy friend you wanted to like enough to date, but for some reason, just couldn't. And now, he's the guy I wish I would have at least went out on one date with. He's married now to such a sweet girl and has a wonderful family. (Insert me kicking myself in the butt and insert him probably laughing hysterically right now.) It's ok. I deserve it.

Daniel - The guy that you knew loved you but you didn't love back. (Believe it or not, that sucks way worse than being the one who isn't being loved back.) I don't wanna get all Hallmark-moment on my readers...but this one could quite literally bring me to tears. I recently found an old letter he wrote to me in which he told me he thought I was the prettiest girl in the world and that he wanted to be my big teddy bear. (I sat in my living room floor and cried.) SO wish I could go back in time. Biggest regret. But...he is happily married now. And I couldn't be happier for him. He deserves it. Because I surely don't deserve him.

Allen - I was a freshmen. He was a senior. Such a big deal. (This was during a temporary move to another high school.) It was like a scene from an awesome teen drama movie. He'd pick me up in his black camaro from school and we'd ride off into the sunset (well, not the sunset, but that sounded good anyway.) He was the first guy to ever buy me flowers for my birthday (and a puppy). He was sorta stalker-ish though. I can remember being sick one day and he knocked on the door and I saw soup in his hands...and I didn't answer the door. (Seriously? What was wrong with me? I think I drove the good ones away.) But, granted, he was very clingy. I broke up with him shortly after. And then he wrote me the words to a REM song in a letter. And he told me he loved me. My response: "No, you actually don't." Wow. I was a harsh.

Hope you've enjoyed this first installment. (:
 

My scale must be broken

My scale must be broken. Perhaps I should take it back. Or check the battery. Or give it a good shake. Or throw it against the wall. Because clearly...it can not be displaying an accurate reading.
Seriously...not a single pound of weight loss this week? (Granted, my official weigh-in day is tomorrow, but I doubt it reads all that different tomorrow as opposed to today.) Not even a tenth of a pound. If I could look back on this week and see where I have eaten cheese fries or not worked out, I would understand. But I worked out...every.freakin.day. And while I may have had one too many cokes at work, I didn't drown myself in cheese fries or the thousand other fatty foods I wanted to immerse myself in.
I hear this happens. The time where you are trying but nothing is happening. The time when beads of sweat mean nothing when it's weigh-in time. The time when you just want to take that rice cake and heave it across the room and trade it in for a bacon cheeseburger. When you, quite literally, want to take the scale and throw it against the wall and then step on the tiny little pieces that remain. (And if it wasn't a high-priced digital scale...I totally would). This sucks!
And I know...it's just a phase. This too shall pass. That is what I hear. Yeah. Yeah. Whatever.
P.S. Screw you scale. I won't quit. And I will not give into the bacon cheeseburger you are apparently trying to tempt me with.

"Me? Pretty? Why, thank you sir."

Every person (especially girl), whether they are single or married - loves to hear a sincere compliment. We can't always toot our own horn, so it feels good when someone else toots it for us. (Wow...that sounded dirty, but was so not intended to be. And now it's quite possible that your mind didn't go to the place mine went and now I have forced it to...so...um...sorry about that.) What can I say? I'm the girl that can probably find about 100 ways in a day to a comment with "that's what she said". It isn't always a good thing. Sometimes it leaves me snickering in a corner by myself with people asking "what's so funny?" Me. And apparently my dirty mind.
Anyways...got a little off topic there. Back to the point: everyone loves being complimented. Especially me. And when you are 31 and never been married, those compliments from males tend to be of a rare and special kind. Because let's face it - I'm 31 and never been married, so of course the following thoughts cross my mind: "Do I repulse the opposite sex?" "Is there some sort of hairy mole growing out of the side of my face no one is telling me about?" and the thought I most frequent: "What the hell is wrong with me?" And all my friends and family say, "Oh, he's out there. God has that special one for you." And my response to that would be, "Yeah. Blah. Blah. Blah. You still get to go home to your husband (and kids - and dog - geez...you have it all!) and have all the sex you want without being considered promiscuous, slutty or sinful. And more importantly, when you don't feel like cutting the light off - there is someone there to do it for you."
Bitter? Party of one? Yes, that's me. And dang...I keep getting off topic (but who doesn't like the scenic route to the point?)
So - when I get a compliment from the opposite sex - it matters.
And I got one at work tonight. Most of the male compliments I receive are usually somewhat of a vulgar nature. (Don't worry, I won't share...but you are secretly wishing I would right? I thought so. Shame on you. Lol.) Well, out of nowhere this guy says to another guy standing close by - "I think she is really pretty." (and points to me) How precious is THAT I ask you? He used the word pretty. Not hot (though fully acceptable) and not anything that registers above a 5 on what I call the perv-o-meter. (Which, in case you are wondering, would include phrases that include, but are not limited to the following words: panties and any word which refers to my lady parts.)
Back to pretty. What a nice compliment! And I turned to him and said, "Thank you for saying that. That was such a sweet thing to say." And that was the end. There was no gross comment which followed. Just a nice, sincere compliment from a nice, sincere man. And it was...well...nice. So, thank you nice man.
And here's hoping that you receive the compliment you deserve today.
 

Why tattoo placement is crucial for chubby girls (or guys)

I never really thought of myself as "cool enough" to get a tattoo. I secretly wanted to get one but always lacked the right amount of gusto to get it done. Not to mention pain. I'm not a real big fan of self-inflicted pain (unless it's the emotional kind...I'm good at that). I never really understood why people would pierce certain body parts...not because I thought it was gross, but because I just couldn't understand why they'd want to go through all that pain. So, I didn't feel cool enough (weren't people with tattoos supposed to drive Harley Davidsons or something? Or at least have that "bad ass" vibe? Because I so am not bad ass. Though I'd like to be for at least a day. And the closest I come to feeling that way is when I wear cowgirl boots.) And then there was the whole choosing a tattoo I'd want to have on my body for forever. I made a list of what I didn't want (should I ever get the guts to actually get a tattoo:
1. Any kind of character (think Disney). Character images for adults belong on horribly tacky night shirts that are only sold at Wal-Mart...and grandma sweatshirts. Not a hip tattoo.
2. Anything that could possibly stretch on any part of my body and become something it wasn't originally intended to be. And considering my struggle with weight, this was of major importance. In other words, I didn't want a rose to turn into a long-stemmed one thanks to a 40 pound weight gain or pregnancy.
3. Anything lower-back. I know, like 90% of girls east of the Mississippi have the tramp stamp. It just wasn't for me. And it would hurt.
4. Anything on my foot. Too painful.
5. I didn't want a colored tattoo...I think they are kinda tacky. (Unless you are going for the whole body tattoo thing...in which case it should be colored because your body is like a walking piece of artwork.)
6. No butterflies - too girly cliche.
7. Something that sorta meant something to me. (How could I ever explain why I got Winne the Pooh on my ankle?)
8. Something that wouldn't be that clearly visible with the proper amount of clothing on.

Well, guess what? I got the gusto. Finally got a tattoo. (Still not badass.) I chose to get the following tattooed on my back (not lower back...more like my left shoulder blade):

Hope...

That's right, hope... The reason I got the dots after the word was to signify that hope is to come and hope is to be expected. (pretty cool if I say so myself). And it's in a pretty font. (Definitely not badass.) Oh well. I'm girly. That's just me.

But something never really occurred to me. What if I loose weight? I have fat on/in/around my back (so gross). I was thinking last night, "What if my back gets skinnier?" And while this probably won't happen, I had a hilarious, somewhat scary thought. "If my tattoo shrinks...it will shrink into Hoe..." What would people think? Hoe...to be expected? Hoe...is coming for you?
I never thought there would be a downfall to loosing weight. Perhaps those with tattoos should rethink that.

My letter to the 190s

 

Dear 190's,

I'll start out nice...We had a wild time didn't we? All those late nights eating whatever was in the fridge. All those McDonald's breakfast meals we ate...what was our favorite again? Oh yes...I remember...a sausage, egg and cheese biscuit, large sweet tea and let's not forget the hash brown. I can recall cleaning my car out every week and finding a multitude of fast food bags and cups. I was a lot embarrassed when I'd throw them away. But, then again, we never were ones to hesitate to order cheese fries or anything else on the menu. That just wasn't our style. We were drawn like magnets to anything cheesy, creamy or fatty. 

We've hung out for quite awhile over the last year or so. And while we shared some (seemingly) good times...I have to admit, you kinda got on my nerves. There towards the end, you were growing more and more annoying and frustrating. And you didn't really get the hint: I wanted to end our relationship. But you just kept hanging around, hoping I'd forget you were there. But I never forgot. And you stuck around for what seemed like forever. So many times, I often wished you'd just go away. (But you could have left the cheese fries; I wouldn't have complained.) I hated looking at your face on the scale. To be honest, I grew to despise you.

Unfortunately, you didn't take the hint. You couldn't just make things easy and...well...disappear could you? No. You made me make all the effort, didn't you? You just thought I'd give in and say, "This is too hard. I may as well just keep 190s around." Well, I didn't give in. (Even though you hovered around my life for months.) You have had your time in my life. And now, I must say my farewell to you.

Know you will not be missed. Know you are no longer welcome. And I will never see you again. 

Peace out,

Danielle

To my blogger friends,

That's right...currently in the 180s! Whoo hoo! Since January, I've lost a grand total of 17 pounds. Remember, I topped the scales at 205. (Oh. My. Gosh.) My next goal is the 170s. (Haven't seen those since...well...can't even remember.) When I recently got on the scales, I sang the Hallelujah chorus and did a little dance (true story). I stayed in the 190s for so long. Too long. Farewell 190s!

How do you pizza?

I have been going crazy with creating new "pizzas". Just wanted to share with you that it is totally possible to enjoy a version of pizza AND still be healthy and possibly loose a few pounds. I didn't bother to calculate all the calories precisely (because really? I have better things to do...well...not really. But still.) I try to keep the calories under an obscene amount, but I don't get all psycho with it. But, for those of you Type A personalities out there...enjoy the following...

on most of the pizzas I created, they included the following "staples":

1 sandwich thin (100 calories)

1/3 cup of 2% reduced fat cheese (around 60-70 calories)

1/4 cup of pizza sauce (around 40 calories)

My first healthy pizza creation: Hawaiian Pizza

Sandwich Thins

Pizza Sauce

Fresh mushrooms

Pineapple tidbits

Canadian bacon

2% milk mozzarella cheese

Looks good huh? (Well...it tasted good) 

Here's a quick recipe:

1. Saute chopped mushrooms and Canadian bacon in skillet 

2. Toast the sandwich thin in toaster or on broil

3. Add pizza sauce, then cheese, then sauteed 'shrooms and bacon, then top with pineapple

4. Bake for about 10 minutes or until cheese is melted

Awesome pizza creation #2: Buffalo Chicken Pizza

Neely's Honey Kissed BBQ Sauce (Soooo good!)

2% cheddar cheese mix

Red onion

Chicken breast

Sandwich thin

*No pizza sauce. The BBQ is the sub for pizza sauce*

The finished product. I added a salad and veggies to up the health factor. 

Quick recipe:

1. Grill or boil 2 chicken breast tenderloins (skinless). Add bbq sauce and saute in a skillet with sliced red onions until onions are tender.

2. Toast sandwich thins in oven or broil.

3. Add bbq sauce to sandwich thin. Layer on mozzarella cheese, then chicken and onion. 

4. Bake around 10 minutes or until cheese is melted.

Awesome pizza creation #3: Supreme Pizza

(sorry, no pic)

2 slices turkey bacon

1 slice turkey sausage

2% shredded cheddar cheese 

Sliced mushrooms

Sliced bell pepper 

Sandwich thin

Pizza sauce

And coming soon: Breakfast pizzas!

You too should reward yourself!

Finally! A future gift to myself to get excited about! 

Anyone who knows me knows that I love anything artsy or creative. I love stumbling upon little boutique shops and the unique gifts that lay hidden inside like treasures waiting to be found. And now my weight loss journey and my creative world collide. 

I was perusing the other day when I had some time to kill and ran upon the cutest little stationary store...here is their logo:

 

Cute, right? And what a neat concept for a store! Very...well...my taste. And it appealed to me even more because this is the exact color I want to paint my spare bedroom. So, of course, I had to walk in. And I could hear everything in there speaking my language. You know the movie "Confessions of a Shopaholic" where the mannequins come alive? I felt like that - the pieces of stationary and cute lamps were saying "Buy me! You love me! Don't you want me?" And then...one item spoke above the rest and then I found...in a random store...my inspiration...for a weight loss goal.

Goals are important. I don't care how cliche it is. I don't care how cheesy making goals are. I make them. And here lately, I've actually completed a few...kinda new for me. I think rewarding oneself is the best way to achieve a goal. My psychology degree taught me that much. You reward positive behavior. One of my first major goals in weight loss is to get down into the 170s. (I haven't seen the 170s...well...since maybe Brittney's first mental health breakdown.) And I needed to find a way to reward myself - something to work towards. (Other than cheese fries) And what does this have to do with Mrs. Post? Well, it just so happens that Mrs. Post has this adorable piece of wonderfulness in her vicinity...

LOVE it! Turquoise is my fav. Owls are also a current fav (very "in" right now in the design world). Now, for me, being the design junkie I am...I just found my future reward. 

You can't really tell in the picture, but it's a big frame. And it's $38. I know what you are thinking - "For a freakin' picture frame?" And I know - it's a little ridiculous. But am I still going to purchase it for myself when I get down into the 170s? Heck yes I am. Will I feel guilty? Nope.  Will you be jealous when you see how cute it is in my home? I hope so. (-:

Yay for design. And super-yay for design when it can be incorporated into me accomplishing a goal! And I'll keep you updated when this makes its way into my living room.

P.S. Mrs. Post is located 3092 Poplar Avenue in Memphis, Tennessee, in a rather large shopping center. You are missing out if you don't drop by and see all its wonderfulness.

Hilarious work-out moment of the day

I found this video on-line...I'm attaching the link so you can view it.
This is a video of a Zumba class...notice the guy in the right side corner. He's wearing khaki pants...I'm wondering if he forgot his gym bag and came straight from his 9 to 5 office job. Poor white guy...he makes every stereotype true. Enjoy.

http://youtu.be/QYIAt1DLSvQ

Having some doubts...

I'm usually a very optimistic person. I am also usually a very realistic person, which sometimes causes optimisim to fly right out of the window.
I am seriously wondering and questioning...can I really do this? Can I run a 5K at the end of the month?
I'm having some doubts. In less than a month, I'm just not sure I will be able to run approximately 3 miles without stopping. Without stopping. That was my goal. Not running a part and walking a part. My goal was to run it. The whole thing. It's on my "things I want to do this year" list. I so want to cross that one off. For once, I want to meet a goal. I want to do it for my biggest critic - the person who is always telling me I can't do it. That person is myself.
I know partly why I feel this way...I didn't push myself last week. I ran one day. One day. I just couldn't get motivated. I still worked out...and I still lost weight...but I slacked off on running. I made myself go today and I can honestly say, I pushed myself. I usually run hard during the beginning and flake out at the end of my 5K run at the gym. But, today, I ran .05 miles at a time and walked .05 miles - for a total of 3.1 miles (a 5K). In other words, I was consistent through the whole workout instead of just giving my all at the beginning and ending up walking the rest. So, overall, today - I ran as much as I walked. I'm really going to try to get up to running .07 miles then walking .03 and repeating until I get to 3 miles by this Saturday. I have seriously got to push myself through this. I knew it would be hard.
Sometimes before I go to the gym, I psych myself out. When I start to think how hard it's going to be - I'm already unmotivated before I even begin. But when I just think of it as .01 mile at a time, it helps. Before I know it - I'm at a half of a mile and I think I can go one more tenths of a mile. And I do. It feels so good when I push myself and I accomplish more than I set out to do. I have to remember that. I have to.
Here's to setting high...and attainable goals.

Tips while eating at a restaurant...an unlikely blog entry

I'm gonna take a little break from my posts regarding diet, exercise, etc. and do what I need to do for a minute...vent...via my mad writing skills.

At this point in my life, college grad and all, I am...waiting tables. I'd like to blame it on the economy or something equally as lame, but I will just be honest - I quit a job I hated. Even though my previous job provided me with a stable income and all the "adult" benefits such as insurance, etc. I. Just. Couldn't. Do. It. Anymore. (And that's an entirely different blog entry). So - long story short - I'm waiting tables. And with the exception of stupid idiots who think it's okay to tip $1.00, it isn't that bad. Actually, I like it. And I especially like my co-workers.

But, for you stupid idiots who think it's okay to tip $1.00...well...you are a stupid idiot.

I provide good...no...great service. I say that with confidence. Sit in my section at the restaurant where I work and you will see for yourself. You will have little time to even think about a refill before I am standing in front of you with one. I can even entertain you with wit, should I assess that is needed. (I have seriously good instinct skills and know what individuals enjoy good conversation or those who just want their food and little talk). For talk alone I was tipped $15 this weekend (he was an ASU alumni - it was easy conversation!) I am here to serve - that's my job. And unlike many drive-thru clerks - (and one certain convenience store clerk), I actually like my job. Except for today. And I have made some tips and guidelines for customers while eating at a restaurant...so you and I can both have a great day...


1) Please understand you are not my only table or customer. Seriously. Although I promise to bust my butt to treat you like you are.

2) Please understand that 15 different servers are trying to use the same computers and drink machine to get your order in and your drinks ready. So if it takes us more than 2 minutes...that's why. We know you are thirsty.

3) Understand that we are juggling about 12 different requests at one time. And 99% of the time, we remember every request. Forgive us for the other 1%.

4) If you have a complicated order - that alone should be just cause for an increase in the tip you give. When you create your own menu item and often times absolutely ridiculous requests - know you are that person at a restaurant. We get that you're at a restaurant and you want to be served. And you have that right. But don't take it too far...for instance..."I want the salad, but no tomatoes or onions or cucumbers. Dressing on the side. And extra dressing. And croutons on the side. And on my hamburger I want exactly 3 slices of tomatoes and little mayonnaise and no sesame seeds on the bun. And I want cheese on top of the meat and on the bottom. And I want my fries extra crispy." You laugh. But that was a real order. 

5) Know that when you order flavored teas or lemonade - we have to make them. Meaning, we have to mix them. There usually isn't a "strawberry lemonade" on tap. We have to get the strawberry mix, the lemonade and mix them. That takes time. Doesn't a coke sound better?

6) IT IS NEVER. EVER. UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE - ok to tip $1 or $2. Never. Ever. Get it? If your reality consists of tips that are that low - you need to get out more...or stay at home and eat a sandwich.

7) Know that servers get approximately $2.00 per hour to work plus tips. And if you give us shitty tips - well, that's shitty. Shame on you. You should know better.

8) Servers have to claim at least 10% of their sales. Meaning, we get taxed for 10% of our sales. When YOU don't tip 10%, that's money out of our pocket. And we still have a percentage that goes to our bartenders, bus boys and hostesses. I know that's a lot of percentage talk - simply put: TIP!

9) Don't treat us like slaves. I can't speak for other serves, but if you treat me nicely, I will go the extra mile for you! If you don't...I'll...well...I'll just keep that my little secret.

10) When you have a large party, please don't give me the following drink order:
Seat 1: water, no ice - lemons on the side
Seat 2: water, light on the ice - no lemon
Seat 3: hot tea w/ honey     (WTF?)
...you get the point.

 11) Sunday's are the absolute WORST days for tips. Worst! This simply shouldn't be. If the big church hats are prohibiting your ability to calculate a proper percentage to tip, take it off and give your brain some room to breathe. Just sayin'.

To those of you who have realized you broke the above guidelines - Happy eating you jerks! You deserve a kick in the butt from the bottom of my ugly slip-resistant shoes I'm forced to wear.

To the others of you - can I get you a refill?

I hate you Jillian Michaels

Jillian Michaels. You know her. That trainer from The Biggest Loser. She knows how to push buttons. Especially emotional ones that leave the contestants crying, walking off and letting out sob stories about why they are really fat. (I have to admit - this part of the show usually makes me tear up too.) Point being, you know Jillian. You want to hug her and punch her in the face...all at the same time. 

Well today - quite frankly, I wanted to give Jillian a swift, quick kick in the ass. Especially when she said the following:

"If you're looking for a modified version of the jumping jacks, look elsewhere. 400 pound people can do it - so can you."

Jillian - I got your modified version of a jumping jack.

I bought her DVD "30 Day Shred". In part because I needed a guided toning workout. Sure, I see all those pieces of equipment at the gym but have no idea how to work them - I need a hot guy to show me how (: (Perhaps I should play up the whole "Excuse me sir, I don't know how this works. Can you show me?" dumb blonde routine. Only thing is...I really don't know how those machines work. So...back to the point - 30 Day Shred video. 

You are supposed to do the video every day for 30 days and increase in intensity every 10 days (there are 3 separate workouts on the DVD; one for days 1-10, one for days 11-20 and one for days 21-30. It's a 30-minute video that includes 3 segments of the following: 3 minute strength moves, 2 minutes of cardio and 1 minute of abs. All to equal about 30ish minutes with a warm-up and cool-down. I took my measurements beforehand and will share after 30 days what the results are. Right now, it's just too depressing.

On day one, I was totally clueless. Yea! The excitement of a new video! Day two, I knew what I was in for...and I was sore from day one. So day two sucked. Day three was worse. I was even more sore from days one and two. Day three (today), I acted like a 5 year old who didn't want to go to bed. I was thinking of every excuse possible to not do the video...here's the run-down...

Put the DVD in the player...

I think I need to use the bathroom...

I need some water...

Better check my facebook...

We need extra toilet paper in the spare bathroom...

I need some more water...

I need a straw for my water...

Push start on DVD player...

Push pause on DVD player...need to open front door - it's hot...

Push start on DVD player (again)...

18 minutes into the video my sister calls...an excuse to pause the video again

Resume video and complete...

Tell Jillian she is the anti-christ...

3 days down, 27 to go.

Dance with Julianne: Just Dance! with Julianne Hough