So work last night was...strange at first. I felt awkward just walking in the door. And it smelled pretty strangely. I'd gotten used to not smelling that place. Then, for a few minutes, it was fun. I got to reacquaint myself with a few people, see a few old friends. I felt rusty only for the first twenty minutes or so. After an hour, I felt like I'd never left, and not in a good way. Strangely, that time also coincides with the time that my first table cashed out.

Servers who have either just started at a place, aren't burned out, just returned from vacation and/or are desperate for money usually give the best damn service around. Last night that was me. I was completely on, going way above what I would normally do. Things like, "Cocktail sauce? Well, we don't have any here but if you give me just a moment I will run in the back and make you some from scratch" were slipping through my mouth without a second thought.

I knew I was in trouble, however, when my first party had three declined credit cards. Then, when a guest informed me that I gave "the best service ever had at a restaurant, bar none" I knew I was in trouble. See, when someone gushes about what a wonderful job you did and how they will ask for you when they return, well, the server is usually fucked. Why? Because when you receive the dreaded Verbal Tip, you will not be surprised to receive a $6 tip on a $70 check, which is exactly what I got. Verbal Tippers are the worst.

So basically, after tipping the bar, the SA, and the stupid food runner (we didn't have to tip them out when I left...I'm not liking some of these new developments) the night was not overly productive, but not too shabby. I guess if you work a fifteen-hour day without crying, yelling at anyone, or vomiting then you're all good. If you can still smile at the end of it, which I managed last night, then you're golden.

Another, I'd guess, 16 to 17 hours today. Though I suppose what I'm doing right now doesn't "technically" count as working. Though I have to be here, so it counts.

And yet another person in my circle of friends and acquaintances is moving into a new house. I am trying not to hate her.

Today's dilemma: to go to Ozfest, or not to go? Tickets are only $20 if I buy one today, and pretty much all of my friends are going, so it would be fun. However, the bands this year are sort of weak...and I hate the venue...I can't decide. It depends on the spin, I guess. If someone were to ask me if I wanted to pay $8.50 a beer to watch Slayer, I'd laugh at both the price of the beer and the lameness of the band. If another were to ask me if I wanted to take a day off of work in August to sit outside and listen to live music with friends, I'd be loathe to decline.

But wait...this could also be my last chance to see Ozzy sing the lyrics he reads off of the teleprompter/karaoke thing before he kicks it. That might be worth it. How seriously fried would you have to be to forget the lyrics of songs that you have been singing for what, over twenty years? Oh...and I wouldn't mind seeing Slipknot, if only for the whole Roman Coliseum attraction (yeah, people beat the HELL out of each other at those shows, and I am fascinated by the utter hilarity of it all).

So there you go. I'm off to buy my ticket. If anything I'll have some funny stories at the end of the day.