I wish I could tell you that I have nine days of events to document. But...I do not.
This past weekend was hell. I worked 30 hours in 3 days and my body just gave up on me. This is all because the new hostess, who is 50 years old, quit b/c she said we're too immature. Well, DUH! When you're 30 years older then your co-workers, what do you expect? Geezzzeee.
Tomorrow Jamie and I are spending the day in Cleveland. We didn't have enough money for a real spring break, so we think this will suffice. I really wanted to go to an Indian restaurant, but now I'm not sure if I like Indian food. I mean, I had it almost 4 years ago and my memory seems to tell me I like it, but also, Alice was there with me so I might have just been trying to act cool.
I'm slowly but surely transforming into a penquin. I walk like a penquin, I look like a penquin, sometimes I even dress like a penquin. I think that penquins would have an equally difficult time getting up off the couch as I do. I also think that they don't enjoy walking up hill like I do. So there...it's settled. I'm a penquin.
Why even pretend like I have anything interesting to say?
I'm out.