Penny Pinching

Tuesdays at The Old Spaghetti Factory equal death. Not so much a physical death as a spiritual death. Tuesdays at The Old Spaghetti Factory kill my spirit. Dead. Tuesdays are the night of the 40% off roll back. All kiddie meals and classic spaghetti's- family favorites such as the mizithra or the ever popular meatball- are 40% off. Now let's chat about this for a second. I don't want us to kid ourselves into thinking that on a regular day that the Spag is what we could refer to as an upper class dining establishment. The meals cost about $10 bucks on average, but include bread, soup or salad, ice cream and free milk, coffee, or iced tea. So let's be honest, we're basically paying our customers to be there.

Picture the Roll Back with me for a second. It's like the Spag merges with Wal*Mart--- we're cutting back prices, alright, but we're also cutting back a little bit of our dignity, a little bit of our soul. Example. Tonight I arrived at work at 5:30pm, bright eyed and ready to go. Things were off to a banner start when the hosts, bless their hearts, sat me three tables at once- a 13, an 8, and a 5. Twenty-six people. And to be honest, probably about twenty-six teeth for the collective group. Here it goes...

I started on the biggest table taking their orders- chocolate milk. All thirteen of the them. Next table- chocolate milk. All eight. The five top gave me a break and just ordered milk, sans chocolate. Bless their souls. Now chocolate milk at the Spag equals milk (which takes about four years to dispense one glass) and a touch o' hershey's syrup, followed by a gourmet stir job. Twenty-six milks? Check. I take their orders, deliver the food, go absolutely crazy because the restaurant is packed and I'm on my tip-toes to get in between the sections, etc. etc. etc. Just another night of living the dream.

I deliver the ice cream and checks at the end of the meal and make my way around the tables to clear any debris. I like to call this the "they are about to tip you, make every second count" moment. While I'm doing this my 8-top calls me over.

"We have a question about the check", they say.

"Sure, how can I help?" I replied. Did I miss a kid's meal? Were they wondering why it was only $39.00 for a family of eight? No, it was a complaint.

"The kid meals are soooo expensive", they whined. "$2.99 for a kids meal? Can that be right?"

My immediate response was to laugh in their face and tip over each of their free chocolate milks, of which I had filled three times each. In my mind I pictured the little apple sauces, the free drinks the kids got, the 9 million loaves of bread I had delivered to the table during their stay. The cows I had personally drained. $2.99 for all that? Yeah, that's a pretty screaming deal. Instead I decided to take the higher road and not flip my shit.

I explained to them that it was actually the 40% off night, so everything was a great deal and skittered away to the kitchen so as not to assault or demean. People: it doesn't get any cheaper than the Spag on Tuesday nights. If this is to expensive for you, please feel free to dump some spaghetti noodles into a sauce pan at home and don't frequent our restaurant. In the meantime, thanks for your $2.00 tips.

Left at 9:00pm with a fatty stack of $15 one dollar bills in my pocket. For those of you doing the math that's 3.5 hours of slave labor for $15 bones. Indeed, Tuesday nights at The Old Spaghetti Factory equal death.

See you next week! Chocolate milk anyone?

eLife

I spent the afternoon with my friend Ashley painting her fabulous new town home. Between rollers and paint, breaking for lunch and chasing around her 1-year old we caught up on the happenings within our circle of friends.

"Is (so and so) still going to go to grad school?" I asked. It is common knowledge within our group of friends that Ashley is the keeper of all information and really is the tie that binds.

She replied that no, our friend wasn't going to grad school and was in fact moving. She is trying to get residency and so is going to work for year, etc. etc. etc. I was satisfied with this detailed response and fully prepared to move on until Ashley confessed the source of her knowledge.

"You know, I have to confess that I haven't actually TALKED to her, I'm just getting all of this off of Facebook updates." Ashley is still the tie that binds, but even more- FACEBOOK is the glue that holds us all together.

We are living the eLife, but is it a "real life"? Facebook offers to us the world at our fingertips- we can see friend updates, join groups, send out eVites to events. Any more we don't even have to leave the house to throw a snowball, become a vampire, enjoy a margarita, or have a pillow fight. They are all just a point and click away- no interaction required.

Are we getting duped here? I have 300 something friends on Facebook... but are they really friends? Case in point: I changed my status to "Married" just for kicks and giggles and to this day my "friends" are still congratulating me on my marriage. For those of you reading this who don't actually know me: no one has liked it enough to put a ring on it, yet.

All day long my brain thinks in Facebook status updates: "Kathy is driving to work". "Kathy is eating a fabulous turkey sandwich". "Kathy is the coolest person in the world". I even find myself trying to top my own status updates- no, don't write that, you can think of a better one to do. My eLife is actively trying to one up my real life!

A phone call has been replaced by writing on someone's wall. I don't have to talk to anyone in person because I can just chat them on Facebook. I don't need to ask my friends how they are doing because I see their updates and see their pictures. I'm totally in the know.

My friend posted this video on her blog. While I was "catching up with her" (AKA stalking her to see how she's doing without her even knowing) I came across this hilarious post about Twitter. Now I don't tweet yet, but it applies to all things social networking. Enjoy, and happy eLife.

(video function isn't working: click here to see it. totally worth it.)

Mom

Laughing * Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies * Twizzlers * Poodles * Supportive * So sorry, Charlie! * Dancing in the kitchen * Shoulder to cry on * Whips me into shape * Skip-Bo swearing * Yahtzee * Elvis * Firefighers * Old Trucks * Steals my keys so I won't leave *Patsy Cline's "Crazy" * Always ready to play * Best mom ever * Love you, Happy Mother's Day *

Getting Back on the Healthy Train

I have the jitters! Tomorrow I'm starting a diet and it's making me nervous. It isn't so much of a diet as it is healthy living, but for the kid who eats EVERYTHING in site, it's a diet. :) My friend Ashley is a nutrition/dieting genius and she has created a healthy living plan that works wonder. I know because last year I lost 50 pounds by following it! Then I promptly gained all of that weight back. No bueno. So it's summer time and I'm jumping back on the wagon. Mostly because I refuse to buy new pants. If you are interested you should check out her blog- A DAILY DOSE OF DIETING- it's great! It's got tips you can use to stay on track and things you can do to avoid pitfalls. I know that diets aren't everyone's "thing"; they aren't mine either. But this one works because really it's just a healthy lifestyle. I'm posting this picture of my previous before and after to A) serve as proof that this thing works and B) motivate me to stay the HELL away from chocolate cake. :) Wish me luck everybody! Here's to a happy, healthy, and helluva summer!

(Okay... the image won't copy over, so click HERE to see my before and after if you want.)

What Not to Wear

Every morning I leave the house and it seems that my entire wardrobe seems to leave with me. On any given day I am toting around three different outfits. There is the fabulous black dress pant/ spaghetti perma-stained white button up combo that comes with black non-slip shoes. Then, on a separate hanger you would find a casual business combo of dress slacks with some top and high heels. And finally what I trudge out the door with every morning as I head to campus, the classic jeans and a tee shirt. Throughout the day I change clothes several times: from campus to job #1 (wearing business attire); from job #1 to job #2 (wearing server attire). The system works and it gets me from point A to point B to point C on time.

Yesterday the system failed because I woke up late. I didn't have time to gather all 800 articles of clothing so I jetted out the door and decided to leave class a little early so I could come home and get the necessary garb. It would require a really quick scene change at my apartment, but I would make it work.

2:00 p.m. rolled around and I unfurled my plan. I left class just early enough to allow me to walk to my car, drive the three blocks home, run up stairs to my apartment, and grab the serving clothes. With 20 minutes until I had to be to work, and a 30-min drive ahead of me I was more than out of time. Like a tornado I stripped off the jeans and t-shirt from "campus wear" and practically leapt into my "office wear": dress slacks and a short sleeve sweater. Out the door!

I was feeling good about things once I got to the office. Feeling productive. Happy. On top of the world. My boss came in to talk with me and as I turned my head to see her in the doorway I caught a glimpse of what looked like a seam on my shoulder. What the?

"Is my SHIRT on inside out??" I exclaimed to Tara. I automatically reached up behind my head and found the tag of my sweater waving freely. Seems out. Tags out. I looked ridiculous. Glad my boss could see this moment. Awesome. Time to be funny, make a joke of it I thought.

"Well, at least I remembered to put on pants!" I joked. As I said this I crossed my legs so I could dramatically point out how great my pants looked. Anything to draw attention away from the shirt folly. When I crossed my legs the pant leg came up just over my shoe to reveal the number one faux paus: white socks with black shoes and dress pants. I had forgotten to change my socks!!!

Great. There I sat, a vision of professionalism in an inside out sweater and white running socks. I'm willing to accept the nomination to go on What Not to Wear at any time now. In fact, my boss would really thank you for it.

I Dreamed a Dream

I'm totally inspired by this. I know this is everywhere right now, but I just love it. Rock on, Susan Boyle. Rock on.

I can't embed it because it's disabled, but it's worth a jog over to YouTube to check it out. Here's to routing for the underdog....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=luRmM1J1sfg

Pandora's Box

While rocking a fever of 102 F, I lounged in my LoveSac tonight trying to nurse myself back to health. Pitiful, I know... especially for a Saturday. I discovered a new television show on ABC called Castle. Even before the opening credits I was sucked in. It's one of those crime-CSI-detective shows and it's pretty entertaining.

The episode was about murder, lying, deceit, and fear--- you know, all of the feel-good things that warm your heart. The storyline, however, was fairly suspenseful. As the TV characters played whodunnit and searched out the killer, I found myself becoming increasingly more jumpy. The pipes in the boiler room of my house lurched, and so would I. I would hear a car door slam outside and feel the compulsive urge to peak out over the window sill so I could see who was coming. Every shadow was someone in my house. Every noise was a call to arms. What was happening to me???

I finished the episode and peeled myself from my nest to punch the off button on the television. Needing to calm down from my hours worth of P.I. work, I decided to take a bath. Somewhere in my quarter century's worth of experience I've heard that it helps fevers. I was hoping it would also help with jitters. As I let the bath water run I creeped around my apartment, checking door locks and turning on lights. Indeed, a bath would calm me down and I sank hopefully into the water.

After a few minutes of attempted R&R in the tub I added more hot water to the bath. After being satisfied with the adjusted temperature I reached my toes up to the water knob to turn it off and was immediately inundated with one idea: I am Michelle Pfeifer and this is What Lies Beneath! Bathtubs, ghosts, murderous relationships. This was not a good idea!

I decided to avert my eyes from the mediated memories coming from the tub faucet and turned my gaze upward in an attempt to relax. As I looked up at the showerhead I pictured one thing in my mind's eye: spiders! Spiders crawling out of the showerhead... this was just like Arachnophobia!

My skin was crawling and I had to get out. I pulled the drain and grabbed for my towel. As I did I heard the advertisement on the radio..."A husband thought he had committed the perfect murder... " The ominous segment advertised Pioneer Memorial Theatre's newest show: Dial M for Murder. Great. So much for FM100 playing "soft hits with less talk".

For those of you wondering why I refuse to watch scary movies anymore, let this be my solemn writ and testament. I hate you Hollywood.

Sweet dreams everybody...

Un-HAPPIES

Coincidence?

Everytime I have posted my "HAPPIES" (See Jan and March), immediately after something happens... something big... and something bad.

Coincidence? I think not.

HAPPIES

mom's newfound ability to text message * Heath * New job * Options * Colorado trip * Boss * Spring Break * dancing the night away * Slurpees * laughing with family * laughing with friends * 5 page essay done * no class for a week * sleeping in * blue sky * pets * CranMal * piano bars * night off *

Homeless Youth Resource Center (HYRC)

So WHERE do you work exactly? And you're not scared? Are they horrible/mean/scary/intimidating? Why do you work there?

These are the questions, usually in this order, that I get when I tell people where I work. It's been 3 months working with the street culture of Salt Lake City, and I can truly say it has changed me. To protect the kids I work with I don't talk about work outside of the center walls. Their stories are powerful, important, sad- but they are not mine to tell.

Recently Mike Terry from the DesNews here in SLC did a report on the HYRC. He spent several days with our kids, taking photos, conducting interviews, even following them around on the streets. Mike was great with them, and he really got them to open up and share about their lives. This video was created about some of our kids and shares their experiences. The center it shows them in is my place of business, and all of the kids you see our "my kids". There are also photos of them in their camps, sleeping in UHaul trucks, or walking around the streets of SLC at night. Because they signed releases to be on camera and in print, I can share this with you.

The video is beautiful and surprisingly honest. Here's an answer to all those questions. And no, I'm not scared. I love these people... Enjoy. And please watch.

Homeless Youth Resource Center Video (click here)

Sunday Revelations

My world has been shaken. Rocked. Everything I know has been turned upside down, and it all started with a little conversation between Sib and her beau.

I only caught the last part of their conversation, taking place between the living room where Austin lounged and the back hallway where Sib was in her bedroom... " yeah, but I've slept away 6 years of my life..."

"What?" I joined in. "How have you slept away 6 years of your life?" After all, during her 20 years on the planet, I've known her for well... all of them. And as far as I'm concerned? She's been conscious for the vast majority. This merited a follow up, and what followed rocked my socks.

"Austin and I decided to calculate how long we've actually slept in our lives", Sib followed up with me. "We figured that we sleep an average of 8 hours a night, every day, for the past 20 years. My number is 6 years."

I was immediately intrigued and busted out my calculator to see if this was true. Try it yourself.

8 hours of sleep/ night (X) 7 days a week (X) 52 weeks (X) (Your age in years)= Hours slept in your life

Divide this number by 24, giving you the amount of days you've slept. Then divide this by 365= how many years you've slept.

People. My number is 8.31. 8.31 YEARS have passed me by in slumber.

WOW.

NSFW

I'm a fan of the online community. A morning, afternoon, and evening doesn't pass me by without logging into Facebook, surfing Blogger, and checking Gmail. I feel that as a 25 year-old I'm more than familiar with the online world. Recently, however, my faith in my prowess as a consumer of the interweb has been a little shaken.

I'm currently enrolled in a class that looks at popular constructs of gender, especially within the media. My instructor believes in freedom of speech, as well as freedom of exploration. Because of this a large portion of our class is participation in a class blog, titled UglyBuddy. (Read it here, you won't be bored, I promise...) Both students and teacher participate in this LiveJournal, spouting thoughts, sharing rants, or posting pictures that have to do with our discussions. Or sometimes that have to do with absolutely nothing at all.

I often find myself turning to UglyBuddy as part of my blog surfing. I'm always curious as to what random post will be up, what article will be linked, or what music reference I can search out. My classmates, I am finding, are much more eloquent in the online world and speak conversationally about icons, emoticons, and blogger-talk. LOL, TTYL, WTF. These are phrases I know about, but don't use, but apparantly acronyms are big in the online community, also. I learned this the hard way.

Last week, while unequivocally bored during a particularly slow session of peer advising I decided to see what was up with UglyBuddy. The most recent post was a picture of Madonna that was linked to another picture. My instructor labelled the link NSFW. I racked my mind trying to think of what organization NSFW was. A national society? A foundation for women? I had no idea, so I figured I'd move onto the picture to try and figure out the letters.

As I clicked on the icon from my open seat in the Department of Communication I was greeted with a full page, black-and-white, there for all the world to see, naked picture of Madonna. Now when I say naked, I mean NAKED. I mean that I now know what her personal grooming habits were in the 80's when this photo was taken.

I was shocked- not because I was looking at a centerfold of the Material Girl without any material, but because it was now on display for all of the Department of Communication to see. We're liberal... but we're not that liberal. I quickly exited out of my browser and promptly deleted the history on the computer. I told my instructor this and he just laughed, wondering why I hadn't heeded his warning.

"What warning???" I wondered.

"Well I told you it wasn't safe for work". Ahhh.... it's all making sense now.

Be advised: NSFW. NOT SAFE FOR WORK.

That's a lesson I won't have to learn twice...

Happies

* Sun shining * Blue sky * School started * Graduation * Great friends * Great fam * Broadway Center Theater movies * Text messaging * Peer advising * Perfect class schedule * iPod * Sib * Comm classes * Not being the newbie on campus * Running into old friends * Running into new friends * Grad apps in * My red vest * Western * Freedom * Running * Gym pass * Turkey wraps * Avocados * Coffee with creamer * Laughing * LoveSac * Biggest Loser * Co-workers * Snowy mountains * Spag Fac * Speaking Spanish * Guitar * Dancing * Good music * Smoothies * Cereal *

Auld Lang Syne

"It's gonna be a great year!" I tried to persuade her.

"But we're going to be so old this year," Christina frowned. Somewhere between her lines of grumbling protests I understood what she was saying. Why should two single, jobless women celebrate a year that was going to quickly usher them into their mid-twenties? It didn't bode well for us Utah girls. I laughed at her disdain for Father Time, not because I didn't feel for her pain but because I realized for the first time just how excited I was for 2008. It was going to be a big year: I could feel it.

"Great in '08, Ghetto, that's the theme!", I smiled. "It's gonna be a great year!"

We finished the drive in silence, letting the year unfold before us. I didn't know then, one year ago, what I know now- the grimy details of the happies, the sads, the goods, and the bads. But I knew it then: 2008 was going to be important; it was going to be big.

Now, with all the details tucked into my memories, I find myself replaying the last 12 months of my life like clips from a movie: In 2008 I re-learned how to learn and fell in love with school. I fell in love with running and surprised myself time and again that I could be successful in something that I had always previously ascribed to others. Now somehow it's mine, too. I spent 75 miles on a bicycle. I embraced the idea of spandex in public. I picked up the guitar again, and put down my addiction for caring with other people think. I found a new appreciation for mustaches and antlers. I hiked Bryce Canyon with my mom and sisters and scaled ancient cliff dwellings with my dad. I watched my brother say "I Do" and realized that it's okay that right now, for the time being, I'm saying "I Don't". I took a flying leap of my own brand of faith and left a job that I hated (the landing is to be continued... see next year's '09 post...) I mailed an important Letter. I met new people. I made dear friends and lost dear friends. I took the GRE, and it took me. I applied to grad schools anyway. I bought red high heels. I created a softball team. I moved in with my sister. I missed my dad. I appreciated my family. As we are. I listened to great music, laughed alot, and danced even more. I became a Hero, got completely LOST, and aimed to be the Biggest Loser. I rented a U-Haul for the first time. I found what is possibly the best apartment. Ever. And the best landlord. Ever. With the best roomie. Ever. I spent the Holidays at home for the first time in three years. I achieved my goals. I tasted success. I swallowed disappointment. I voted. I protested. I cheered. Although I didn't always know it at the time, I enjoyed the crap out of 2008.

Oh yes. It was a big year.

So here's to the chisel labeled 2009, and a raised glass for all of you who shared in '08 with me:

And ther's a hand, my trusty friend,

And gie's a hand o' thine;

We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,

For auld lang syne.