Showing posts with label I hate holidays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I hate holidays. Show all posts

July 7, 2009

Happy Holidays, You Bastard

Friday morning I woke up early. Filled with anticipation I began pulling out sleeping bags, chairs, and ice chests from storage. I suddenly started to feel a bit queasy so returned to bed for a few more hours of shut eye. I woke some time later with a raging migraine, stumbling to the bathroom I was met by an unexpected visitor.
That bitch Aunt Flow couldn't have waited until after the weekend to ruin my life for the next 5 days? I marked tampons on my list of things to pick up at the store, and went about my business after taking upwards of 1,000 mg of Tylenol.
We arrived at our camp site after sweating it out for nearly 3 hours in the truck. It was a beautiful, cloudless sky, with temperatures somewhere in the 90's. We began unloading the truck when out of nowhere a flash flood tore through the campground destroying everything in its path.We took shelter in the truck for about an hour while our bags, blankets, and tents were demolished.
Within minutes the sky was blue and the sun returned. Determined to have a good time we did our best to salvage the firewood and shook the tent dry.
The rest of the evening was enjoyable, as we barbecued, drank, and enjoyed family we rarely see.

I awoke Saturday with a stiff neck and a sore throat, not to mention cramps and a blinding headache from my period. I hadn't slept well, but then again I never sleep well while camping so I got up, had a cup of coffee, and begin feeling better.
Husband and I went on a beautiful hike, and took the kayaks out on the lake. The sun's rays stung my white legs, but it felt so good.
Back at camp my father-in-law was preparing lunch, and I decided to lay down for a nap. Waking I felt worse then I did before laying down. My entire body was achy, I had a fever, my throat was raw, and I was shivering excessively even though it was hot as hell.
I had the flu. First the period, then the flood, and now the damn flu.
Husband suggested we just go home, but I didn't want to ruin the weekend for him to so I said I would try and ride it out. We didn't drive all that way to miss the fireworks either.
I spent the rest of the day puking, shivering, and trying not to move since my entire body felt bruised.

At 10pm the fireworks finally began, yet I was bundled up in my sleeping bag, with ear plugs jammed into my ears, praying for silence so the migraine might subside. After the fireworks, husband returned to find me passed out with puke in my hair, and along the side of my sleeping bag. He picked me up, put me in the car, packed up all our shit, and drove me home.

So, all together it was a pretty unsuccessful holiday weekend. One of the worst in fact. But upon reminiscing I have to laugh a bit. It was certainly unforgettable and after the hell I raised at the restaurant, quite ironic.

How was everyone else's holiday weekend? Got a story to top mine?

May 15, 2009

Mother's day sucks.

So, as you may know, there are no holidays in the Restaurant world, and Mother’s day is no exception. For our restaurant its absolute chaos and insanity. I opened at 10, and worked straight through until we closed early because we ran out of food. You know that crazy rush for about 3 hours on a Friday night…Mother’s day was like that, only all day long. The lobby was packed, standing room only, and we were putting people on a 2+ hour wait.

It felt like war. We were all there prior to opening, getting stuff ready, prepping as much as we could, trying to be overly prepared, and then the open sign clicked on and we charged forward.

After about 4 hours, I was on autopilot. I hardly remember anything from the second half of the day. I often feel like a robot repeating the same lines over and over.

G.H “Thanks for coming out today, happy mother’s day. My name is G.H, I’ll be taking care of you. Todays Special is a 6oz bacon wrapped Filet mingon, with grilled and breaded shrimp, with your choice of side, and you choice of salad, soup, or chili.”