magic beans

i'm feeling very stupid.


very very very stupid.



so.


yesterday i had the day off. all to myself. nothing to do. just driving around. singing some songs. drinking some coffee. having some fun. and i thought, hey- how's about some new earrings? it'll be great. treat yourself.

there is a place in ybor city that i frequent. it's clean and friendly. but it is a tattoo parlour nonetheless. filled with tattooed people. i'm not a fan of stereotypes, but i have met a few "holier than thou" folks, who happen to be covered in freaking tattoos. call it what you want but i'm right and you know it. with that in mind, there i go. walk in, explain the situation of having my ears gauged almost a year ago but wanting to start anew.

cool.

they tell me what i can get, what i cannot. and i say... wow, those white ones in front. those are beautiful.
so, there they go, boxing them up for me in a cute little box, "wash them...soap....water...blah, blah, blah. yeah, these are nice: they're mammoth ivory.... don't wear them in the shower.... blah, blah."

and i say, "wow, mammoth ivory? awesome."

dude gives me a little bottle of oil to treat them with and i pay. good-bye, thank you.

then i head to the public restroom, pop those kittens in and grab a few beers.


nearly an hour later i thought to myself...








mammoth ivory?


dear blue devil boys,

i hope you had a royal laugh.
you're welcome.

...john?

i found him in the claw game at perkin's on dale mabry.

congratulations mr. kerry, you've done well for yourself.

mr. cirrocumulus

he's been hanging around lately.


i like it.

aurevoir, chien!

yes.
good-bye dog.
kitchen dog, that is. i'm unsure of the meaning of the term, but i have been dubbed as such for almost six months now. i even googled it to see if it was a common nick-name for a girl working the line in a restaurant.

nope.

so nonetheless- on i go- wagging my tail and panting like an obese retriever to the next restaurant. (actually, the name is making more sense now that i spell it out. hmm.) but for the time being i will resume my duties as a server of fine wines and excellent feasts. and that's honestly a freaking vacation from the way things are right now.

now, i pretty much get paid about eight and change to run around a kitchen the size of a handicapped stall and sweat and bleed. because that's really about all it boils down to: drinking enough water so i don't pass out from dehydration, and thinking i've had a good day if i come home with all my fingers. which is great, really. but only if it pays the bills. which it doesn't.
there are a very select few in this world who can honestly justify the exhaustion, pain, and disgust of working in a kitchen full-time. i, myself am not one of them. maybe in the very distant future if i happen to become bedfellows with anthony bourdain or the likes- but as it stands, i doubt it. i'll stick to watching top chef and rachael ray.

don't get me wrong. i love to cook. and i love to be in a heated environment like that (no pun intended). but i'm young. very young. and i fear that i have already lost about six years off my life from this. and i think it's best if i get out with five fingers on each hand, and decent looking forearms. i took a challenge. did my best. and now i must move on.


but honestly, the only thing that really scares me is that i might get bored in the real world.
i might long for sautee pans flying past my head.
i might miss the smell of burnt oil.
i could miss being covered in grease and grill bits.
pasta water!!! vegetables!!! i need fucking PASTA WATER!!!
ohh, come on man!! i'm weeded!!
zoe! where my tongs!!? you take my tongs!!?

...but i doubt it...


so, wish me luck.
and hope that lassie doesn't come home.

update

as promised, here is an image of (a small part of) the mango massacre in the parking lot. delicious, no?

and for the record i would not reccomend eating a mango like a peach. no matter how ripe. i did it, don't get me wrong. but i was pulling fibers out of my teeth for probably two hours. not fun.

really love your mangoes, wanna shake your tree..

there's a mango tree behind my new apartment building. they are about the size of... i'm not sure. maybe twice the size of an egg? bigger than a kiwi, but smaller than an orange. not nearly as big as the ones you find in the grocery.

growing up in colorado, i never really had the fortune of fresh fruit from the tree. unless you count crab apples. i don't. and if you ever tried to eat one, you wouldn't be counting them either.

anyway, this is a pretty exciting thing for me. as soon as you park you can smell them. not to mention the ground is littered in mango innerds. it's quite a site really. mangoes are so fibrous that once they have become parking lot road-kill, there are just countless hairy, orange landmines everywhere. i should really post a picture of that, too. it's pretty weird.

so, boyfriend and i went a-pickin' the other night. we grabbed some ripe ones, which are legitimately about to burst, and some green ones which we'll let ripen in the bowl. when i say about to burst, i mean they are so delicate, so full of juice that they feel like you could eat them like a peach. and i still believe you could. i'll let you know how it goes.

now, i know that this won't last long- this mini-harvest of mine, honestly it's probably almost over. but it's funny how something so small can make a place (florida) seem ok for just a little longer... we're on-the-outs, florida and i. we have been for quite some time. but this is something i can't get in colorado.

never could.

alas, i'll let you know how i'm feeling when the parking lot is covered in rotten mango pits, and i'm standing there sweating wondering what the hell i'm doing in such a spoiled state.

excuse me

i think i'm losing my mind.