Friday night was one of the best nights of my life. There was nothing good on TV. I didn’t eat a fancy meal or meet anyone famous. All I had was Tink! So many lyrics to express that night. SO many movie quotes to say what I was feeling! It was a blur, but I remember everything. My memory seems to have a 70's television glow around that night. Every light sparkled, as if I was wearing a pair of those special paper fireworks glasses. The olives in her father’s olive-juiced spaghetti, seemed to be sweeter than any strawberry. Did I mention that I detest olives with a passion?


No matter what I do,
No matter what I say,
That night will still come second,
to that morning the next day.


CRASH! BANG! THUD! SCREECH! Well, that nice time came to a halt because I not only had to work but I also had to get home to spend some happy time with the parents to keep them on the loving side. Saturday night was THE wildest night of the curling season. Throughout the year, we have bonspiels (don’t feel bad if you don’t know what those are. My spell checker didn’t either. They’re tournaments.) that are sponsored by random companies or organizations; Energizer, Canadian Tire and Lovecraft, Saturday night. Lovecraft is one of the, if not number one, biggest suppliers of sex paraphernalia. Despite being surrounded by sex toys, sex movies, sex magazines and sex, sex, sex. I actually had a terrible time. Saturday night was the hardest night I have ever worked in my life. Despite being the only busboy on duty for the dinner, bussing 18 tables, I was also expected to shut down the building at the end of the night. Normally this is alright, but when I am expected to carry every table into a newly designated storage area in the basement, 12 tables, and move 56 chairs..... I get a little ticked off. But when I have to carry out all of the DJ’s equipment to their car, I get severely pissed off. It’s not my job, and when they don’t want to move the van closer cause it’s cold outside, I feel like slapping someone. The weight on my arms, I almost dropped a table at one point because my arm went entirely limp, was not the only problem. Bobbe the bartender dropped 2 glasses (very surprising for a woman of her experience and the fact that the shelves are so close to the counter), one of the caterers dropped 6 dishes, 2 large glass bowls, 3 wine glasses and a coffee mug in one large crash, upon the stairs. Who cleaned those up? Why me, of course. Oh and did I mention that throughout the night, 2 women, one in her sixties and one in her thirties and neither good looking, came onto me in a very sad display of desperation, and that one very, very, very drunk man came onto me in the bathroom. He actually moved one urinal closer to me, mid-pee. None of this is good, especially when you know you’re girlfriend is less then 15 minutes away, and is with two of her hot friends. But hey, that’s the job. That’s what I have to go through to make money. It probably won’t change, but there was one up to the night. When Bobbe left the bar, I took over. I served 6 people; 3 drafts, 1 cranberry and orange juice and a White Russian. The best part of the whole experience was that every dollar for those drinks went right into my pocket. I think this is a job I could definitely enjoy. Oh and Bobbe never knew, and hey what does it matter! She got a couple extra bucks in tips, especially after I flipped the shaker over my shoulder like in Cocktails. What can’t you learn from movies?

This is what I felt like at 2:30am, when I got off work: