Saturday, April 17, 2004
I want a divorce party. A wild, crazy, drunken weekend of illicit sinning in every pleasurable way imaginable.
In the past 6 months since we agreed on a divorce, Shitfoot has:
He really does think we're "friends".
On a more irritating note, my internship at the restaurant is driving me certifiably insane. I show up a few minutes early for my shift, and I'm rewarded with the task of sweeping and mopping the floors while the lazy-assed-talentless slugs who were finishing up went to sit down in the cafeteria.
From across the room, Chef Dumbass asked "somebody" to make QUOTE "a half a pound of ganache". Daria turns to me and says, "Sooo... if ganache is half chocolate and half cream, then we need a quarter pound of each... 4 ounces, right?" "Sounds right to me." I said. When it was done, Chef Dumbass came over and was livid.
Chef Dumbass: "Why is this all you made??"
Daria: "What's wrong with it?"
Chef Dumbass: "I told you to make a half a pound!"
Me: "Yes. That's a half a pound."
Daria: "Did you mean you wanted us to use a half pound of each ingredient?"
Chef Dumbass: "How much does your recipe in your packet call for?"
Me: [looks at her like she grew a second nose] "errr, I don't know--I don't use a recipe anymore. It's pretty basic."
Chef Dumbass: [sighs heavily at my obvious stupidity] "Your recipe packet calls for 6 pounds."
Me: "Ok. But you asked for a half pound."
Chef Dumbass: "Right. So there SHOULD be 3 pounds here."
Me and Daria: "Huh?"
Chef Dumbass: "There should be 3 pounds."
Me: "How does a half pound make 3 pounds?"
Chef Dumbass: [exasperated scowl]
Daria: "Did you mean that you wanted us to make a half a RECIPE from the packet?"
Chef Dumbass: [getting really irritated] "NO!! I SAID, I want a half a POUND. NOT a half a recipe."
Me: "Right. That's what we did. A half a pound. Weigh it."
Chef Dumbass: "I'm SAYING there should be 3 pounds here."
Me: "Are you saying different words than you're thinking, because you're not making any sense at all."
Chef Dumbass: "Just make some more."
In the past 6 months since we agreed on a divorce, Shitfoot has:
- asked me to sew a new button on his "date pants"
- asked me to call in sick to work so he could go on a date
- asked me to give him a ride to the restaurant where he was meeting another woman
- not once, but several times, opened my bedroom door while I was undressing and entered, and proceeded to speak to me as if there were nothing inappropriate going on.
- opened the shower door to ask me if I knew where his belt was
- entered the bathroom while I was on the toilet to talk to me
He really does think we're "friends".
On a more irritating note, my internship at the restaurant is driving me certifiably insane. I show up a few minutes early for my shift, and I'm rewarded with the task of sweeping and mopping the floors while the lazy-assed-talentless slugs who were finishing up went to sit down in the cafeteria.
From across the room, Chef Dumbass asked "somebody" to make QUOTE "a half a pound of ganache". Daria turns to me and says, "Sooo... if ganache is half chocolate and half cream, then we need a quarter pound of each... 4 ounces, right?" "Sounds right to me." I said. When it was done, Chef Dumbass came over and was livid.
Chef Dumbass: "Why is this all you made??"
Daria: "What's wrong with it?"
Chef Dumbass: "I told you to make a half a pound!"
Me: "Yes. That's a half a pound."
Daria: "Did you mean you wanted us to use a half pound of each ingredient?"
Chef Dumbass: "How much does your recipe in your packet call for?"
Me: [looks at her like she grew a second nose] "errr, I don't know--I don't use a recipe anymore. It's pretty basic."
Chef Dumbass: [sighs heavily at my obvious stupidity] "Your recipe packet calls for 6 pounds."
Me: "Ok. But you asked for a half pound."
Chef Dumbass: "Right. So there SHOULD be 3 pounds here."
Me and Daria: "Huh?"
Chef Dumbass: "There should be 3 pounds."
Me: "How does a half pound make 3 pounds?"
Chef Dumbass: [exasperated scowl]
Daria: "Did you mean that you wanted us to make a half a RECIPE from the packet?"
Chef Dumbass: [getting really irritated] "NO!! I SAID, I want a half a POUND. NOT a half a recipe."
Me: "Right. That's what we did. A half a pound. Weigh it."
Chef Dumbass: "I'm SAYING there should be 3 pounds here."
Me: "Are you saying different words than you're thinking, because you're not making any sense at all."
Chef Dumbass: "Just make some more."
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