alcohol = band-aid

There are too many drunk photos of me on facebook, there would be more except I don't think people can remember my name (thank god!)

This however has not deterred me from drinking tonight, I'm in an absolute shit of a mood and I have needed to drink a lot these last few weeks to forget about the source of my shitty mood.

At work we are right now conducting surveys on behalf of a multi-national-weight-loss-conglomerate, the exact same conglomerate that will be using me in their commercial as "depressed fat girl on the beach" so technically they are paying me twice, but also has me more concerned as when a company starts doing market research (especially with our company) it means that they are going to bombard the media in the near future with advertising and promotions, which means my arse is going to be out there a lot, which if it happened whilst I was drunk would be fine (being mooned by me is one of the top ten things to do in Sydney list as voted by tourists) but me on your television during dinner every night for three months might be a tad scary.

I think I'll be drinking more in the future.

My Darling brother has come to visit me which means watching DVD's and eating yummy food, except I cannot eat anything yummy, which makes me sad (insert frowny face here)

I got over it when I bought hideously expensive giant strawberries, they would of been a whole lot better if they were accompanied with chocolate and double cream.

Deryn did however buy me a huge warm hooded jumper with decapitated monkeys on it, it's so deliciously ugly.

Am flat out with work at the moment, last night they told me I was a star.

I am craving haloumi at the moment I want to eat it by the kilo with rocket and a balsamic reduction.

I suck at quitting jobs I really do, the last time I resigned from a job, my boss managed to convince me to stay on another month and a half on a quarter of my wage... (slight exaggeration, more like half)

Well you see tonight I quit my waitressing job, I was fine I was enjoying my job, it's so easy except for the Angry vain boss, who contradicts everything he says and and annoying mix CD of ethnic music interspersed with Celine Dion on constant loop.

It was great tonight all wonderful customers, I was wonderful, so wonderful a patron offered me a very large tip, now it's to be said in Australia in restaurants, cafes and the like that tips usually left on the table go into a communal tip jar and either are divided amongst the staff equally or more often than not go into a end of week/month booze fund for the staff, but that's OK Australia isn't a tipping country, and since I have been working there I know patrons have been leaving some lovely tips so I was looking forward to my cut of it, So like the money hungry person that I am asked what happens to the tips?

Boss:
Nobody gets tips here, how do you think I pay you
Kimberly:
(that's me remember) Well don't you pay staff and all other expenses related to the restaurant from the revenue obtained from the food that you serve?
Boss:
Go Away! Take these entrees to table 6

The seed was finally planted, since I decided to take this job countless people My Brother, Mother, The Americano, The Homeless lady with the Garbage Bag Dress have all told me to quit, but I ignored them all mostly because I do it so well and partly because I like money, but tonight I cracked, after he yelled at me for not doing something that he yelled at me earlier for doing... well I didn't so much crack as laugh and say "well have a nice life" it was quiet, and restrained for me but when I got outside I laughed and skipped home while in my head the 'I got a golden ticket' song was going through my head, I have to quit jobs more often.

good...ish

Dead Dad Day went a lot better than expected, mainly because I slept most of it, then I went to work at 'The Restaurant' I forgot how good I am as a waitress, people seem to like me a lot more when I'm serving them, which is fine as I think in some sick way I like to serve people.

The boss is a very vain man who has decked out 'The Restaurant' in every possible tacky souvenir possible and there is an entire wall of photoshopped images of him surrounded with fairy lights, he is easily angered and refuses to wear his glasses while working so he cannot read the orders and complains loudly because I haven't written things in metre high letters for him.

The staff is his wife, a woman who seems non talkative, a hodgepodge of Nepalese youth on holiday visas, a couple of young men with young wives and newborn children to support, they all collectively cringe when I raise my voice or question the boss, one of the workers went so far as to shoosh me when I vocalised my conflicting opinions... but I will persevere as I need money and this job gives me the three magic words that makes it all worthwhile 'Cash in Hand'

No sex and no wheat makes Kimberly Something, Something.

A stupid decision I made a few days ago has me now working and incredibly suspect restaurant amongst a bevvy of illegal immigrants, I have no idea why I even applied, I don't need the job, I have market research...
The restaurant was just very close to my flat and they only waitresses for three or four hours shifts and the owner is hilariously vile, I imagine I'm going to blow up at him and storm off within the week.

I guessing the irrational job application is a side effect of not being able to have pasta, or bread or different kinds of bread, But surprisingly I am coping very well without sex it's only been one week, five days and twenty-two hours since I last got laid... and I'm not obsessing about it at all.

Went to the Big Day Out the other day and I had a blast.

I stayed in on Australia Day and I had a blast.

I pretended I lost my voice today so I could sleep in and have poached eggs instead of going to work and doing nothing, and guess what? I had a blast.

I have to go to market research work tomorrow but only for three hours so tommorrow I'll have a blast.

This week has been really good.

It's toothpaste that helps get rid of hickeys? right?

or is it hickies?