Bartending @ MindSay 
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Bartending
This summer, my grandmother (whom I call Missiemom), informed Michael and I that we should be bartenders once we are of age (I will be 21 in January, Michael won't turn 21 until next July). She arrived at this conclusion, she told us, for several reasons.
"For starters," she said, "there's a lot of money to be made in bar tending."
"Also," she went on, "I know how late you two like to stay up. This would be the perfect job for you both since you're such night owls. Then you could sleep in every day since you would work at night."
"And this will be great practice for Michael, since he wants to be a psychiatrist." she concluded.
I, for one, will just be glad when I can buy myself a bottle of wine, or drink a couple of beers legally. And frankly Missiemom, I'm way to introverted to be a bartender. ;)
"For starters," she said, "there's a lot of money to be made in bar tending."
"Also," she went on, "I know how late you two like to stay up. This would be the perfect job for you both since you're such night owls. Then you could sleep in every day since you would work at night."
"And this will be great practice for Michael, since he wants to be a psychiatrist." she concluded.
I, for one, will just be glad when I can buy myself a bottle of wine, or drink a couple of beers legally. And frankly Missiemom, I'm way to introverted to be a bartender. ;)
25 "Cherry Bombs" Take Florida Man's Life
On Tuesday, Eric Morris of Florida died after consuming more than two dozen cherry vodka shots within a half hour. Witnesses provided evidence that he had taken 23 to 25 "cherry bomb" shots in a 30 minute duration. A Cherry Bomb is made by combining cherry vodka with the Red Bull energy drink.
The 26-year-old male was said to be participating in a drinking game with another patron at Angel's Show Bar in Seffner Florida hours before he died. While his drinking buddy stopped after just a few shots, for some reason the bartender kept serving Morris and "decided at shot glass 24 or 25 that she wasn't going to serve him anymore." Just moments after being declined more alcohol, Morris "staggered away from the bar where he had been drinking and collapsed."
Unable to resuscitate him, patrons at the bar called 911. Morris was transported to a local hospital and then died about two hours after the party had begun. The odd thing about this is that he used to work in a bar himself, as a bouncer. Seeing people test their limits with alcohol, one would think he would have learned not to outdo himself, however his sister thinks he kept taking the shots to try to prove his endurance, which was valued in their family.
There is currently no legal limit as to how much liquor a bar can serve a patron. Do you think a law like this should be enforced? Many bartenders know when it is time to "cut someone off," however when it comes down to making money, is this really a consideration while serving someone who is severely impaired in making decisions? It seems a large misjudgment caused this man his life, and also a reminder to others when enough is too much.
On Tuesday, Eric Morris of Florida died after consuming more than two dozen cherry vodka shots within a half hour. Witnesses provided evidence that he had taken 23 to 25 "cherry bomb" shots in a 30 minute duration. A Cherry Bomb is made by combining cherry vodka with the Red Bull energy drink. The 26-year-old male was said to be participating in a drinking game with another patron at Angel's Show Bar in Seffner Florida hours before he died. While his drinking buddy stopped after just a few shots, for some reason the bartender kept serving Morris and "decided at shot glass 24 or 25 that she wasn't going to serve him anymore." Just moments after being declined more alcohol, Morris "staggered away from the bar where he had been drinking and collapsed."
Unable to resuscitate him, patrons at the bar called 911. Morris was transported to a local hospital and then died about two hours after the party had begun. The odd thing about this is that he used to work in a bar himself, as a bouncer. Seeing people test their limits with alcohol, one would think he would have learned not to outdo himself, however his sister thinks he kept taking the shots to try to prove his endurance, which was valued in their family.
There is currently no legal limit as to how much liquor a bar can serve a patron. Do you think a law like this should be enforced? Many bartenders know when it is time to "cut someone off," however when it comes down to making money, is this really a consideration while serving someone who is severely impaired in making decisions? It seems a large misjudgment caused this man his life, and also a reminder to others when enough is too much.
How I Spent My Thanksgiving Vacation
This Thanksgiving break has been pretty relaxing, though not without its ups and downs. On the down side is the fact that I spent the holiday alone. This was kind of a drag, but that's okay. I got to talk on the phone with my family, or most of it, anyway. And yeah, I did have a standing invitation to a co-worker's house for dinner, but that's not something I'm terribly comfortable with. I was also urged to go over to the home of my D&D friends, but declined that, as well... though it was tempting.
Didn't do much on Friday, but again, that was by design. It's a vacation, after all. I treated it as such. I did run some errands, including stopping by Brew It Up to pay for our upcoming brewing session this week. Picked up the maple syrup for the beer, too. Sure hope this turns out okay.
Speaking of alcohol, I was supposed to do the bartending school again this weekend, but I just didn't feel up to it. Truthfully, I'm not impressed by the place. Yeah, it's great to have buttloads of bottles of colored water with which to practice. But, with half the classes behind me, there's really been no actual education about alcohol itself. And I'm sorry, but I think that's something a good bartender needs to know.
I mentioned before about the inaccuracies given (both orally and in our text) about beer. It was ridiculous. I even talked to the school's manager one day about it. And I've written up a full page of explanations about all the things wrong with the book's material. His reaction was... well, I don't think he put much stock in it. He said no one ever brought this up before, and they've been using that text for years. It's no wonder, of course. The majority of the students are college kids out to make some extra bucks. They don't know squat about beer aside from how to order a Corona. I'm sure I'll go back for the rest of the classes (and probably take my earlier ones over again, too), but I'm thinking now it'll be after the new year.
Yesterday evening, my friend Alex and his friend Mike came over to hang out. Alex is Kassi's boyfriend, and is in our role-playing group. Apparently, Mike is joining, as well. They're young. Eighteen-ish. And I honestly find it very gratifying that guys that age think I'm fun enough to hang out with. Certainly, hanging out with them makes me feel younger. Then again, much of our evening was spent sitting around talking about our OCD traits. Mike has 'em bad. It's almost funny.
We went out for pizza at Chicago Fire... Mike making sure to step between the sidewalk cracks the whole way. There was about a half-hour wait, and this was after 8 p.m. But it was a Saturday, so that wasn't too bad.
Regular readers will know that I'm constantly searching for primo pizza, here in Sacramento. Chicago Fire has two styles: the typical deep-dish style that Chicago is known for, and the thin style that Chicagoans eat regularly. We had the latter, of course. My assessment was that, while it was certainly tasty, it sure pales by comparison to real NY style pizza. And (speaking of OCD), ladyluck wouldn't have enjoyed it. Why? Because it's a round pizza... but cut into squares. (Go ahead. Ask her about it.)
But the nice thing is that it's within walking distance from my place (only eight blocks), and is far from mediocre. So I'll probably go there again. Not that I eat much pizza, these days. (And my waistline can attest to that.)
After the guys left, I went to a Shannon Curtis show. Unlike most of her shows, this one actually had an opening act I'd enjoy seeing again. They're from Sacramento, and are called All on Seven. It was just a guy with a Stratocaster and a (quite cute) girl on drums. Good sound! I chatted with them briefly after the show and look forward to seeing them again. They seem to play in town quite often. I checked out their MySpace page when I got home and was shocked (understatement!) to find that the drummer is eighteen. EIGHTEEN! Jesus. I am such a godawful judge of age, it's scary.
This afternoon, Kate is having a post-Thanksgiving potluck. Not sure how many people she's expecting, yet. Last I heard, it was about half a dozen. Since I obviously have no leftovers to take, I'll be arriving with some apple cider and some Amber liqueur (which is maple & pecan flavored). The two together make an awesome hot beverage for this time of year.
And that's about it. Thank you for being kind enough to be bored with such a mundane entry. At least I didn't go into detail about my grocery shopping or laundry washing...
Didn't do much on Friday, but again, that was by design. It's a vacation, after all. I treated it as such. I did run some errands, including stopping by Brew It Up to pay for our upcoming brewing session this week. Picked up the maple syrup for the beer, too. Sure hope this turns out okay.
Speaking of alcohol, I was supposed to do the bartending school again this weekend, but I just didn't feel up to it. Truthfully, I'm not impressed by the place. Yeah, it's great to have buttloads of bottles of colored water with which to practice. But, with half the classes behind me, there's really been no actual education about alcohol itself. And I'm sorry, but I think that's something a good bartender needs to know.
I mentioned before about the inaccuracies given (both orally and in our text) about beer. It was ridiculous. I even talked to the school's manager one day about it. And I've written up a full page of explanations about all the things wrong with the book's material. His reaction was... well, I don't think he put much stock in it. He said no one ever brought this up before, and they've been using that text for years. It's no wonder, of course. The majority of the students are college kids out to make some extra bucks. They don't know squat about beer aside from how to order a Corona. I'm sure I'll go back for the rest of the classes (and probably take my earlier ones over again, too), but I'm thinking now it'll be after the new year.
Yesterday evening, my friend Alex and his friend Mike came over to hang out. Alex is Kassi's boyfriend, and is in our role-playing group. Apparently, Mike is joining, as well. They're young. Eighteen-ish. And I honestly find it very gratifying that guys that age think I'm fun enough to hang out with. Certainly, hanging out with them makes me feel younger. Then again, much of our evening was spent sitting around talking about our OCD traits. Mike has 'em bad. It's almost funny.
We went out for pizza at Chicago Fire... Mike making sure to step between the sidewalk cracks the whole way. There was about a half-hour wait, and this was after 8 p.m. But it was a Saturday, so that wasn't too bad.
Regular readers will know that I'm constantly searching for primo pizza, here in Sacramento. Chicago Fire has two styles: the typical deep-dish style that Chicago is known for, and the thin style that Chicagoans eat regularly. We had the latter, of course. My assessment was that, while it was certainly tasty, it sure pales by comparison to real NY style pizza. And (speaking of OCD), ladyluck wouldn't have enjoyed it. Why? Because it's a round pizza... but cut into squares. (Go ahead. Ask her about it.)
But the nice thing is that it's within walking distance from my place (only eight blocks), and is far from mediocre. So I'll probably go there again. Not that I eat much pizza, these days. (And my waistline can attest to that.)
After the guys left, I went to a Shannon Curtis show. Unlike most of her shows, this one actually had an opening act I'd enjoy seeing again. They're from Sacramento, and are called All on Seven. It was just a guy with a Stratocaster and a (quite cute) girl on drums. Good sound! I chatted with them briefly after the show and look forward to seeing them again. They seem to play in town quite often. I checked out their MySpace page when I got home and was shocked (understatement!) to find that the drummer is eighteen. EIGHTEEN! Jesus. I am such a godawful judge of age, it's scary.
This afternoon, Kate is having a post-Thanksgiving potluck. Not sure how many people she's expecting, yet. Last I heard, it was about half a dozen. Since I obviously have no leftovers to take, I'll be arriving with some apple cider and some Amber liqueur (which is maple & pecan flavored). The two together make an awesome hot beverage for this time of year.
And that's about it. Thank you for being kind enough to be bored with such a mundane entry. At least I didn't go into detail about my grocery shopping or laundry washing...
Love Hurts
Counseling went fine this morning. We began with her asking what I was going through right now that brought this on. I told her I was unhappy in my job, feeling a bit overwhelmed, frustrated, and generally aimless. Then she asked for some background on me, and we began with my childhood. After giving her the somewhat confusing tale of my mother's abandonment of me and everything that happened after that, followed by my first relationship and ultimately the chain of events that led to me being in California, she made the observation that such feelings as I'm experiencing now certainly can't be anything new to me. She said it was perfectly understandable that I'd have abandonment and attachment issues, after all of that.
Anyway, we didn't get much deeper than that, it being just the "getting to know you" session. She wants me to attend a series of depression classes, so I guess I'll do that. My next one-on-one isn't until early December.
Anyway, we didn't get much deeper than that, it being just the "getting to know you" session. She wants me to attend a series of depression classes, so I guess I'll do that. My next one-on-one isn't until early December.
Bartending college, over the weekend, was pretty decent. Except when the instructors kept mispronouncing the names of alcohols. Geez. These are the tools of their trade! You'd think they'd know how to pronounce their names!
Also, when the one instructor talked (for all of three minutes) about beer, half of what he said was wrong. And he didn't seem to believe me when I corrected him. Later, I read the chapter (i.e., one page) of our book that talked about beer. And about half of it was inaccurate, too. Shameful.
Also, when the one instructor talked (for all of three minutes) about beer, half of what he said was wrong. And he didn't seem to believe me when I corrected him. Later, I read the chapter (i.e., one page) of our book that talked about beer. And about half of it was inaccurate, too. Shameful.
Tonight I watched a movie I haven't seen in a couple years: 50 First Dates. I'm not much of an Adam Sandler fan, or a Drew Barrymore fan, either. But every once in a while, each of them makes a decent movie. And this one's among them. To me, anyway.
However, at one point, I got to thinking along the lines that Hollywood sets for us... about idealistic love, idyllic love, where even the shittiest life can be tolerable because of the love you have for another. My, how nice that must be, I thought to myself.
Of course... the movies Hollywood makes of such relationships are nearly always movies about the early stages of a relationship, when New Relationship Energy is at its peak, messing with our heads in extreme ways. You'd be hard pressed to find someone 10 years into a relationship who feels the same way as when it was only 10 weeks into it. And Hollywood knows that, so you don't see movies about it.
But the thing that got me, tonight, was that I've been there. At one of the lowest points in my life, I had that kind of love. And it made my crappy existence tolerable. Of course, in retrospect I can see how messed up I was (from another relationship that had ended the previous year, and from my lifetime of "issues"), and how unready I really was for another relationship. Likely as not, this is why that one ultimately failed.
But I still look back with great fondness on it. Sorry that it ended, especially how it ended. I dunno... maybe that breakup was inevitable. I try not to think of the latter days of it; they're too painful. Although, in its own way, thinking of the early days is even more painful.
However, at one point, I got to thinking along the lines that Hollywood sets for us... about idealistic love, idyllic love, where even the shittiest life can be tolerable because of the love you have for another. My, how nice that must be, I thought to myself.
Of course... the movies Hollywood makes of such relationships are nearly always movies about the early stages of a relationship, when New Relationship Energy is at its peak, messing with our heads in extreme ways. You'd be hard pressed to find someone 10 years into a relationship who feels the same way as when it was only 10 weeks into it. And Hollywood knows that, so you don't see movies about it.
But the thing that got me, tonight, was that I've been there. At one of the lowest points in my life, I had that kind of love. And it made my crappy existence tolerable. Of course, in retrospect I can see how messed up I was (from another relationship that had ended the previous year, and from my lifetime of "issues"), and how unready I really was for another relationship. Likely as not, this is why that one ultimately failed.
But I still look back with great fondness on it. Sorry that it ended, especially how it ended. I dunno... maybe that breakup was inevitable. I try not to think of the latter days of it; they're too painful. Although, in its own way, thinking of the early days is even more painful.
Guess It's That Time Again
Ever have something take you by surprise, when it really shouldn't have? Yeah. Who hasn't? This morning, not long after arriving at work, depression smacked me in the face. Hard. I buried myself in work, hoping it would pass. But it didn't. Boss A urged me to go home, on the condition that I call up my health plan and arrange for counseling. So I did. I have an appointment on Thursday.
As I implied, though... the signs were all there, even before this morning. I've had a long stretch of being overly emotional. I'd find myself avoiding watching certain movies, feeling that they'd be uncomfortable to watch. And not just depressing movies, mind you. I was avoiding watching movies that had overt love stories to them. But then, when a grown man can cry while watching The Parent Trap... something's amiss.
I've had a problem for a while with beginning projects and then losing interest. Or, if not losing interest, becoming too easily frustrated with them. I've got bartending school this weekend, for example. I almost don't care. I even came close to canceling, instead of paying the balance due and committing to going. But I forced myself to do it. So that's where I'll be from nine to five this Saturday and Sunday, in case anyone's looking for me. It's supposed to be two consecutive weekends, but I've got plans the next weekend. So I'm not sure when the next one I'll be able to do might be. Maybe not until the weekend after Thanksgiving. And that's fine with me. I've got nothing else going on.
But there are lots of other things where my interest has waned. Maybe that's why I haven't been able to get any decent writing done for a while. It's not holding my interest. And if it's not holding mine long enough to write it, any finished product sure isn't gonna hold the interest of a reader.
I haven't even posted any blogs in the past two weeks. In fact the only reason I'm posting this is because it's sometimes helpful to put it down in writing. Well, that, and because Vanessa's blog today echoed what I was feeling. But while she summed it up in a sentence, I needed to ramble.
The therapist on the phone asked if there was a trigger that set this off. I can't think of one, but it's no coincidence that it flared up when I got to work. Even with my recent raise, I'm still fed up with the job. The new duties... fine. They're not fascinating, but they're far more interesting than the mundane, mindless crap that comprises far too much of my job.
And now I'm realizing I haven't blogged about this new work gig. Yeah, it's like this. A year or so ago, we decided we needed a "data manager." Boss A immediately nominated me for the position, but the senior management said, "No... we want someone with a Ph.D. in that position." This was ridiculous, since none of our data demands were of that level. But what senior management wants...
Anyway, my Boss B (latest in a series, collect 'em all) has a degree in finance. And when she saw what our Ph.D. was doing, she about gagged. She made it very clear to senior management that we were paying him a salary commensurate with his level of experience, but it was totally out of whack with his actual responsibilities here. So he was let go, and the lion's share of his work was split between me and another member of the support staff.
Boss A is now hoping that, even though we didn't need a Ph.D. in that position, senior management will realize we do need someone in there full-time, and that - this time - they'll consider me for it. We'll see. Will it be an enjoyable job? No. But it'll be far less annoying than what I'm currently doing.
Well. I could ramble on. And on. But I'm not going to. Instead, I think I'll make myself some dinner, listen to more of the Rush CDs I recently got (filling in the old vinyl collection), and play some more Spider solitaire.
Good times.
As I implied, though... the signs were all there, even before this morning. I've had a long stretch of being overly emotional. I'd find myself avoiding watching certain movies, feeling that they'd be uncomfortable to watch. And not just depressing movies, mind you. I was avoiding watching movies that had overt love stories to them. But then, when a grown man can cry while watching The Parent Trap... something's amiss.
I've had a problem for a while with beginning projects and then losing interest. Or, if not losing interest, becoming too easily frustrated with them. I've got bartending school this weekend, for example. I almost don't care. I even came close to canceling, instead of paying the balance due and committing to going. But I forced myself to do it. So that's where I'll be from nine to five this Saturday and Sunday, in case anyone's looking for me. It's supposed to be two consecutive weekends, but I've got plans the next weekend. So I'm not sure when the next one I'll be able to do might be. Maybe not until the weekend after Thanksgiving. And that's fine with me. I've got nothing else going on.
But there are lots of other things where my interest has waned. Maybe that's why I haven't been able to get any decent writing done for a while. It's not holding my interest. And if it's not holding mine long enough to write it, any finished product sure isn't gonna hold the interest of a reader.
I haven't even posted any blogs in the past two weeks. In fact the only reason I'm posting this is because it's sometimes helpful to put it down in writing. Well, that, and because Vanessa's blog today echoed what I was feeling. But while she summed it up in a sentence, I needed to ramble.
The therapist on the phone asked if there was a trigger that set this off. I can't think of one, but it's no coincidence that it flared up when I got to work. Even with my recent raise, I'm still fed up with the job. The new duties... fine. They're not fascinating, but they're far more interesting than the mundane, mindless crap that comprises far too much of my job.
And now I'm realizing I haven't blogged about this new work gig. Yeah, it's like this. A year or so ago, we decided we needed a "data manager." Boss A immediately nominated me for the position, but the senior management said, "No... we want someone with a Ph.D. in that position." This was ridiculous, since none of our data demands were of that level. But what senior management wants...
Anyway, my Boss B (latest in a series, collect 'em all) has a degree in finance. And when she saw what our Ph.D. was doing, she about gagged. She made it very clear to senior management that we were paying him a salary commensurate with his level of experience, but it was totally out of whack with his actual responsibilities here. So he was let go, and the lion's share of his work was split between me and another member of the support staff.
Boss A is now hoping that, even though we didn't need a Ph.D. in that position, senior management will realize we do need someone in there full-time, and that - this time - they'll consider me for it. We'll see. Will it be an enjoyable job? No. But it'll be far less annoying than what I'm currently doing.
Well. I could ramble on. And on. But I'm not going to. Instead, I think I'll make myself some dinner, listen to more of the Rush CDs I recently got (filling in the old vinyl collection), and play some more Spider solitaire.
Good times.
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