well, I thought I was off tonight.

Thursday. 11:30am.

I’m not working tonight. a night off! kick ass! 😀
What am I gonna do today? Maybe get a zipcar? maybe drive to the Crack? food shopping is a must, too. I’m trying to save some $$ to buy a condo here in SF. and eating out every single meal is detrimental to my bank account.

Frank just called me. Her bicycle got stolen. Suck ass.

How did it all happen? Last night, I got called offa work. partially hungover from the night before, I decide it would be an excellent idea for more cocktails.

So… Frank and I meet up for a drink at this little bar on Market, had a few cocktails. And decided to get some food. We both rode our bicycles (hello, we’re in SF–all about being green), and decided neither of us wanted a BWI (Biking While Intoxicated). So we walked 2 blocks to the next establishment. A comfort food restaurant with hilariously-named cocktails. (yeah! more booze!)

After our alcohol-soaked dinner (AND dessert–we’re totally worth it!) we get to the posts we locked our bicycles. Frank decided that she’d leave her bike there, and pick it up in the am, on her way to work. Asked my opinion, and I thought nothing of it. Because, I constantly leave my bike all over town, with never a problem.

I, having had less to drink than she, and as a restaurant professional, decided that I’d be fine to ride my bicycle

This morning I get a text from Frank. Her bike wasn’t there. Stolen. suck ass! Some crackhead mutsa stolen it for more crack, or meth, or whatever it is that crack- or meth-heads are doing these days.

As I write this, I just got a txt from one of my coworkers. Plo. she just came back from the O.C. with her boyfriend husband, only to find out that his uncle passed away, and they’ve got a funeral to attend tonight.

Then my cell phone blows up. It’s the restaurant calling. Our hostess/office assistant is on the other end.


“yeah. what’s up?”

“I know it’s your day off, and I don’t even know if you’re here in SF today, but I need 2 shifts covered tonight.”

I’m way ahead of her. Plo already txted me, and I already agreed to pick up her shift.

“oh, is it Plo? She texted that she and Bun have to go his uncle’s funeral.”

“yeah. so I need you to either pick up a bar shift, or a serving shift”

I think for a moment. If I work server, I’ll be upstairs, with Lexi, who everyone loves, but with Slow Bartender. If I work downstairs, I bartend, but with Krazi, and Rubie.

“Server,” I reply. I’ll be there at 4pm.

::sigh:: So much for my night off.


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