My ethical responsibility as your mother:

I do believe it is lunch time, and I am here with my hotdogs and spicy mustard, accompanied by a piece of Kraft packed American cheese. Okay, so this lunch is significantly gross; it was either hotdogs or ice cubes... You're right, I should have gone with the ice-cubes. On tuesday my supper consisted of half of a Mrs. Field's chocolate cookies, a couple of Peachie O's I nabbed from the girl who sits in front of me, a piece of Orbitz spearmint gum, and a cup of Coffee from Dr. Java. I am really on a streak here with this health food thing, maybe by suppertime I can finish off the Turtles chocolates my mother bought at Target! I think I am going to start putting on the Christmas poundage early this year, by New Year I can have love handles spilling over my low-rise jeans in the most trailer-park manner possible. It's a plan.

I am not so sure about working at Waffle House anymore, and it is for the most selfish and ridiculous reason. It is not because Waffle House just looks like a slave-driving plantation of saturated fatty proportions, nor because of the cracked-out clientele has a tendency to be creepy, and not because Waffle House seems like a magnent for robbery... It's the dishwashing. You wash your own dishes, and yesterday I saw many a syruppy plate go back to the shelves, and passed back out to customers; fully loaded with hashbrowns, and waffles. Plus, I have that thing about my hands and hot dirty water.

At Ruby Tuesday I found myself disgusted each day by the salad bar conditions. I saw many a dirty heathen child grab the potatoe salad with their bare hands, and reach and grab the already brown iceburg lettuce with the same exact grubby paw. I even saw one big sexy lady with a snakeskin mini skirt, white-lady weave, and strappy hooker boots, take a grape, bite the grape, exclaim, "Damn, that's sour!" and put it back. Wow, classy stuff mon ami.

I also remember this one great ToGo order I took "skraight" from the ghetto. They ordered two full racks of ribs, one half rack, two bacon cheeseburgers, a sweet tea, and a diet coke. Of course they never came. However, what I remember the most is this wonderful quote from a girl who I am sure was named Janishaboo, or possibly Ladarren:

"Guhrl, we gon' be ridin' a white Escalade wif' TWENTY-TWO'S! Jewknow what dat' is?!"

"..No ma'am."

"GGGUUUHHHRRLL, TWENTY TWO'S IS RRIIMMMSS! And we gon' be ridin' up in thur' wif da' music up so CRUNK. It's gon' be CRUNK AS HELL!"

"... "

..it went something like that. At least now I know twenty-two's are rims,and I am glad. Not really.

I wonder what the Juggernaut would look like with twenty-two's. I have managed to lose all the hubcaps, except for one. I know another one fell off somehwere in the vicinity of the Steak and Shake drive thru. I ran over it, it made this crunching noise as I pulled away from the window. The drive through lady looked at me as if I had just ran over a very small child.

And randomly: I have discovered how much I like Sam Shepard. I just finished reading Buried Child, it has been one out of three plays I have read by him. His writing reminds me of jazz, the breaks and the language. I had no idea he was the same guy from that Diane Keaton Movie Baby Boom. .. I mean, he was not Diane Keaton, he of course played the love interest.

Last night a gay man and I went to Bed Bath and Beyond, and T.J. Max. We were checking out of Bed Bath and Beyond as it was closing, the manager asked us and his employees where he could buy pepper spray. I guess it was meant to be a christmas present.

"Merry Christmas, I bought you a can of pepper spray for those pesky muggers."

This just screams happy holidays, to me.

I think I will leave now, this has gotten ridiculously long, and I did not even have something poignant to say.

P.S. Our mother has bought christmas scented glade plug-ins. It smells like berryific-Evergreen blend. I am not sure how my nose feels about this yet.