Suddenly Albi wasn't racist anymore!

I was reading Facebook bumper stickers to Laurie, you know the ones that girls post on their best friends' (or sorority sisters') walls, the ones that go something along the lines of "Well behaved women rarely make history" or "If you break her heart, I'll break your face!" and are written in pink and black with little hearts. As I read them, my voice was dripping with sarcasm and mockery. Laurie said that she was going to post one on my wall.

L: Good friends are like balloons...
...Once you let them go, you can never get them back.
M: Huh, I thought you were going to say "You have to blow them up."

I think this admission on my part might point to me not being a very good friend... A few minutes later we were talking about the time that I "tooted" freshmen year. It was possibly the most embarrassing thing I've ever had happen to me in my entire life, and I didn't react well. After reminiscing, La looks at me

"Good friends are like balloons, full of gas." (Where's my drumset?)

The weather here has been so beautiful that I've been enjoying my spring break, despite not going anywhere. The other day I stayed in and cleaned the apartment. Moe's comment when I told him, "Does it not smell any longer and I can finally come over?"

It doesn't smell. You're all welcome over at any point. BYOB unless you want my left over Budweiser Selects.

I've also watched "Law and Order: SVU" marathons (Dear Elliott, I love you.) and "Sex and the City" marathons and "Flight of the Conchords" marathons, too.

So far my "What I did over Spring Break" essay sounds vastly uninteresting. I've also enjoyed lunches with Moe and Erin, talked to Krystina for a good while on the phone, hung out with my sister, celebrated Scott's birthday, gone roller skating, drank, and worked. There's always work.

...Speaking of work. Erin today told me something that she thought would make me mad. A brand new server, but one that Richard and Brenda knew at Applebees was training behind the bar (no prior bar experience) because Richard thought she was cute.

I was not mad, I was dumbfounded. And hurt. So, on my walk to work, I thought about what I was going to say to the managers. By the time I got to work, I started teetering on the brink of tears while I was telling Laura how I felt. It went something along the lines of this, "Why was somebody else promoted above me? I've been here for two years. I don't complain when I am given host shifts, I try to help other servers out, I work my tuckus off for this place and I feel extremely undervalued. If I am not appreciated here, I think I need to put my two weeks in. Not being cute enough to be behind the bar isn't an excuse."

I think my reasoning, though probably too impassioned (it's my style to get worked up), was not flawed. I have been there longer than two weeks. I do work very hard. I have been asking to be put behind the bar. So Laura goes and finds Brenda and tells her. Brenda finds me, takes me into the walk-in and talks to me. She was displeased with me for getting in a tizzy and not talking to her about it. Which is understandable. It is also understandable that I didn't want to talk with her because I was so worked up at this point that I would start crying. I did start crying. I am the ultimate professional.

Anyway, Brenda tells me not to get worked up, to get the full story first, and if I wanted to come in on my own time and train behind the bar then I could do that. Later they go up to a manager meeting. Afterward, Frank comes up to me and takes me out to the butthole of the patio to "have a talk." I knew what it was about, but as we went out there, I shot Laura (server this time) a look and mouthed "I'm getting fired!" Anyway, the deal is that Frank is going to start me out as a "barback". I think it is their way of telling me that I'm not yet good enough to train as a full-on bartender (fair enough, I do not know many drinks) but that they are going to try to compromise so I do not feel like I am being left behind. I appreciate it a lot. I am not trying to conquer the restaurant industry, but to be at a place for two years and to see somebody else get a job you want when you are not offered... Nobody puts baby in a corner.

I read one of those "What does your birthday tell you" books the other day and my entire horoscope was about working. Capricorns are ambitious, Capricorns like to move ahead, etc. I worried that this leaves little room for anything else. Then I realize that I am somewhat flawed in relationships (a lot flawed in any relationship resembling a romance), socially awkward, and by no means athletic. Maybe work is my thing. And in that case, I sure hope I get into law school...

In other news, I downloaded India.Arie's version of Don Henley's "Heart of the Matter" because it is awesome. I always thought old Don's version was a little cheesy, and I ignore it when it comes on Shucks FM. But, I like India's version, so I went and read the lyrics. They're awesome. A little cheesy, but meaningful. One of those songs that you're embarrassed to admit to your friends that you find some sort of deeper message in, but you find a deeper message nonetheless. Good thing it was covered, any cheesy song is infinitely less cheesy when sung by a black chick (unless that chick is Dionne Warwick).

And one last bulletin from the world of Moira. I got my blackberry yesterday. I got the pearl instead of the curve because the curve reminds me of the oldschool "crackberry" that my dad used to have. The one that prompted Caroline to ask "Are you selling drugs, Dad?" Well, despite getting a little red cutesy blackberry, it's still a blackberry. I was expecting it to come with a hidden baggie of Pure Colombian Cocaine for me to cut with cornstarch and sell out to people. It didn't! So, world, even if you think that blackberries make people drug dealers by default, they do not. (For the record, Dave has never sold drugs.)

And I bid you goodnight, this blog has gone on entirely too long for somebody with nothing to say.