But it's not. It's a burn. BURN! Tee hee. But seriously, I was working yesterday (as I do) minding my own business, slinging de pannekoeken...(I'm so overdoing it now) and as I do when I'm in the groove (the pannekoek groove) I was carrying 3 plates at a time. Sometimes I go for 4. I'm just good that way (Leeanne can sometimes carry 5 but she's been a waitress for a long time...she's like the Yoda of the serving world) and it's fantastic. Truly. But not me. Not yesterday. Nope. No way. The plate that I had balanced on my left forearm (I have wicked strong forearms now) totally burned my arm creating a freakish nipplesque blister just below where my sleeve ends for the whole world to see (and obviously fantasize over...the perverts!). It was distressing. But now everybody at work talks about my freakish tolerance for pain. I walked all the way across the restaurant with my flesh being seared, smoke billowing everywhere (slight exaggeration, only slight mind you) and calmly placed the meals down in front of the customers, asked them if there was anything I could get for them and walked away. Wimpering only slightly. I even managed to threaten to set one of them (the customers) on fire. Worked it right into the conversation. I am a machine.
And then I saw a little mini train (with tracks and a whistle and scary circus music and everything) on the side of the road. It was great. There were also flowers.
And then I bought a computer bag that's super swanky and says bitch on it (it's the brand but so fitting) from a garage sale for $5. So all is now right with my world. Oh, and I got to put a butterfly bandage on the burn because it was grossing out the customers (except the pervs of course) and I drew antennae and flying marks around the wings which made me feel super cool. Overall I rate the day as a woo hoo!
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