Daysleeper

In a desperate move to make some cash to pay my rent this summer, I became a prostitute a drug dealer a waiter at a pancake restaurant. It's a 24-hour place, which means that the only shift they had available was late, late, nights.

I've been sleeping all day in an attempt to adjust to the late nights. It's weird to me, going to bed as it's getting light outside. Most of the bleary-eyed people on the road at 6am are going to work, but I'm the guy who's going home.

The restaurant business is filled with interesting people, both guests and fellow employees. I worked all night last night because the 10-6 server was in jail. She claims it was for unpaid parking tickets, but I think we all know that's not true. Another 10-6 waitress got so far behind when she was on her own last Saturday that she tried to blame the entire previous shift for the place being a mess in the morning. A server who works one day a week has a restraining order against one of the "best" cooks on the night shift. For the summer, she wants more hours, and they are going to tell her that they can't give them to her because she would have to work with him; yes, this is how Title VII lawsuits are made, people.

Last night, a very drunk young woman grabbed my butt while she was ordering. Now I enjoy a nice game of grab-ass as much as the next guy, but not while I'm working, and not with women who are not my wife.

I didn't press charges.

Anyway, that's why posting has been light. I apologize if I've missed anything good in the blog-o-sphere.