I am sitting here formulating this post while I am watching a preview for “The Real Housewives of New Jersey.”  I do believe I opted for the wrong labels.  I have no idea what possesses me to tortue myself by watching these women brag about shopping, charity events and other vacuous things that I blame for the economic downturn.  I wonder if it is not just an accident that over the past few years, the lifestyles of the rich and famous have been even more glamourized than they were when Robin Leach hosted that Saturday morning special.  Shows like this should be inciting class warfare, yet they seem to be preventing it.  I cannot take my eyes off the screen or change the channel.  I should renew Netflix. 

We are talking about labels.  I will stick with my label as one of the “working poor” and continue with the challenge.  I am not super juiced about my entries this week.  I only seem to find funny labels every other week of the year.  Here is my homage to Warhol.  I did not want to copy him completely but the fridge shot lacked pop & the blue shot lacked the wow I felt when I spotted this summer treasure at Stop & Shop on Sunday.  Only 99 cents for all of that blue!!!!

We finally tried Chipotle.  I expect it to be one of our new favorites, provided they turn the AC on subsequent sunny day visits. 

I wish I had the 1.8 for this assignment but I was happy to get this out of the regular Nikon lens.  Tabasco looks powerful at this angle.  I am not a fan of traditional Tabasco but this zesty Chipotle Tabasco is particularly delicious. 

I completely forgot to label the other SAPCC labelers:
Russ
Brooks
Renee
Chris?
Smack? – even if she didn’t post a pic, read her blogs
Elizabeth?

Pat (no longer a participant in SAPCC, but a huge participant in getting my creative juices flowing)

I had two main ideas for sin.  The first is actually inspired by an episode of “America’s Next Top Model.”  Even though I had the idea all week, I waited until 4:30am to begin.  I realized that my next photographic investment should maybe be a black backdrop. 

The counterpart for sin’s sexiness, is sin’s sadness.   On Sunday, I went to the Liberty Humane Society shelter to take pictures of pets with Santa.  While I may post some of them separately, the ones I have chosen to include for “sin,” are quite sad.  Due to economic hardships, many people are surrendering their pets or simply letting them loose.  This was my saddest visit to the shelter to date.  Whereas an abused or neglected animal may benefit from the occasional visit from a volunteer, regular feedings and warmth, many of the new animals in the shelter are used to constant companionship… nuzzling up to dad’s leg when he comes home from work, having someone’s shoes to chew up, having the run of the place… So, here they sit… breaking my heart. 

Other takes on SIN from fellow sinning SAPCC-ers
Russ

Michael

Pat

Smack

Chris

Renee

Forgive me if I have misquoted that.  It’s been the only thing on my mind the last few weeks at work (with the minor exception of last Wednesday when I was still euphoric about the Obama win and optimistic that “change” would occur instantly).  Besides the fact that I am not even coming close to making enough money to pay my bills, tonight I was once again poisoned by a cleaning solution.  This time it was Murphy’s Oil mixed with stainless steel cleaner.  These smells individually make me sick.  I get a headache, have trouble breathing & get very confused.  Well, imagine my surprise when they went ahead & mixed them in the same bottle and cleaned the ice dispenser and then left the dispenser door open to absorb the unpleasant aroma & collect the dripping chemicals.*  Before and after my hour long “trip,” I was able to make some notes about the full moon clientele. 

There was the hipster with the handlebar mustache who kept twirling it as he ordered his Newcastle and smirked.  Was I supposed to bow in his coolness?   Stop twirling it.  I fucking see it. 

There was the singer/guitar player who plays every other Thursday night.  He is slightly better than his every other other Thursday night counterpart but he is still not very good and I resent him for making a living getting to ruin songs I love by playing them in a monotone voice at warp speed with the bass turned up too high on his acoustic guitar.

There was the table of women and their brats.  The eldest woman lost her voice when I was near and was only able to communicate by waving her empty Corona bottle in my general direction.  After bowing to their every need, they left me $12 on $150.  

There was the guy with the law book who didn’t know that the mixed vegetables for his dish included mushrooms.  He wanted mixed vegetables with green beans.  I quickly fixed this.  He handed me the money for his bill and said he would be right back in with change for my tip.  He didn’t come back in.  Silly me.  I believed that he would come back… that there was no way he would stiff me after telling me he was going to come back in. 

And my favorite of all… There was the girl who ordered “cherry Coke” whose father then asked “Is that the one with the cherry in it?”  Lucky for them, they were my first table of the night.  Had I known they were 8%ers, I certainly would have added some sarcasm to their bill.

SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, I need a new job.  FAST!

Since I do not have any pictures of the aforementioned people, have a look at my Wednesday night photoshop project. 

* Go ahead and ask for extra ice.  I dare you.

I have a job interview tomorrow with a company that is a known scam.  Do I waste $30 gas and tolls & five hours getting there just so I have something to write about or do I take said five hours working on my resume and watching political stuff?  Fox News, here I come.  I do need that new job & here’s yet another reason why…

Friday night, second table of my shift, old couple… This is the consolidated version as I could not write down the funny, horrific things the woman was saying as quickly as she was saying them.  It started off pleasantly.  She said they had not been in for quite some time and wondered what I recommended.  Her husband, or whoever the poor soul with her was, was a pleasant man who had trouble speaking… Perhaps, he was recovering from a stroke (most likely induced by his wife).  After pleasantries, I offered to get their drinks.  Here is where the fun starts.  “Me” is what I said & “OL” is old lady because “OFCB” (old fucking crazy bitch) takes too long to write

OL – I want a margarita with the lime juice on the side.
Me- Well, our margaritas are–
OL – Don’t tell me you can’t do it because everywhere I go, this is how I order it.  They do it next door.
Me – Please let me finish.  Our margaritas are made with a mix–
OL – It’s not a mix.  They can do it.  Go get it.
Me – I was a bartender here & I assure you that our margarita mix comes pre-made.  I cannot separate the lime juice from the mix.
OL – You’re not helping your tip any.  What kind of waitress are you?  Are you stupid?  I want the lime juice in a separate glass & everything else in the glass with the ice.  Now go get it & stop being so self important.
Me – I am trying to be nice and–
OL – Well, it’s not working.
Me – Let me finish.  I am trying to nicely let you know how our drinks are made.  We add triple sec, tequila and pre-made mix to make our margaritas.
OL – Just go get it and stop talking.  You need to close the blinds.
Me – I don’t need to close the blinds. Would you like me to close them?
OL – You better close them or I am going to rip them off the wall.
Me – (I close the blinds).  I’ll go get your drink.
OL – You didn’t need to close both blinds.
Me – I’ll go get your drink.
OL – I am 70 years old and have never experienced a waitress like you. I eat out 4-5 times per week and this is the worst –
Me – I’ll go get your drink.

Near the end of this, my other table is intentionally throwing their child’s toy on the floor.  When I pick it up as I am walking away, they say, “Wow, we’re so sorry.  We were trying to get your attention and take you away.”  I thank them as I still hear the old woman talking about how “self important” I am.  When I get to the bar, I explain the situation to the bartender and my manager.  My manager declines a visit because “If they think you are self important for explaining it, then bringing me over really won’t help.”  Thanks, I enjoy verbal abuse of all sorts especially when I am bound to good behavior.  The bartender makes the drink.  Tequila & triple sec over ice and margarita mix on the side.  He’s a bit generous with the tequila so we pour some out.

OL – See how easy that was.  I didn’t need that much juice on the side.  I said “a little” juice on the side.
Me – Look, the bartender poured the drink.  It’s not juice.  It’s margarita mix.  He poured that much, not me and I figured it was better for you to have too much than not enough.
OL – What nationality are you?
Me – American
OL – What is that?
Me – American?
OL – What does that mean?  What are you?  I need to know because I only argue with certain types of people.
Me – It’s not really your business.  I am American… a mix of many things.
OL – You must be African.  Africans always get me mad and argue.
Me – It’s really not any of your business.
OL – If you tell me you are Polish, I will slap you.
Me – Have you decided what you would like to eat?

That was the final negative exchange.  An old man three tables over (yes, she was that loud), not even in my station came up to me and asked for the manager so he could tell him how well I handled myself.  He told me he would have hit her.  Ahhh, the temptation.    My manager, a different one than the first, simply laughed when he heard the story, “Rough table, huh?”  Um yeah, I believe it’s called harassment and I hate so very much that I cannot afford to just leave right now.  There were other things too, but like I said, I could only write down some of them.  I think the writing helped me keep calm.   The next time her friends are over to her blind-less house (to visit her much nicer husband) she’ll probably say, ”I went over to TGIFridays and this stupid, African Polack didn’t know how to separate the lime juice from my margarita.”   Ahhh… so good to know that racism is still alive and well.

 So, I still need a new job.  I posted my skills a few blogs ago but being as the only taglinesI get hits for are in reference to the penis cake picture, I suppose this blog is about as productive as searching craigslist.

PS Scam job was actually from careerbuilder. “World Access Marketing”  Google it, then google again adding “scam” to your search.