Upset Waitress

No Underpants, No Job.

Upset Waitress — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 02:32:58 +0000

I guess my white trash state of Florida had to implement a dress code for it’s state workers. Workers must wear panties, deodorant, and cover up all wounds. As far as the covering of wounds is concerned, I think it is a good idea because the last thing I want is for some cafeteria worker with festering pustules of staff oozing into the sloppy joe they are plating up for my kid to eat. That’s my job.
All the poor bastards getting Mesothelioma treatment will be out of a job too. Their wounds don’t heal and they’re constantly spitting up blood and lung cookies. The underwear thing makes no sense to me though. It’s not as if crotch crickets feel the urge to migrate from the steamy, smelly groin forest they currently reside in just because your sweaty ass chooses not to chaff. No more going commando, just means the secretary has to pull her underwear over after she hikes up her skirt to screw her way up the corporate ladder in state government. The deodorant thing, well that’s clearly discrimination against the Mexicans the state hires in order to offset the millions of dollars being funneled to the numerous Swiss bank accounts.

wii ain’t getting along.

Upset Waitress — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 15:13:37 +0000

Looky at my new toy. It’s a wii. I got the wii fit as well. It’s way different than my XBox. My XBox never told me off because I didn’t spend enough time on it. When I bought the wii I didn’t know I was spending $300 on a game system with a fucking attitude that suffers from separation anxiety. This thing tells me I’m fat, old, and slow all the time. It’s super nosy too and asks about other members of my family. Last night it asked about how my Aunt Martha was doing in rehab. WTF!!! And I’m sick of it constantly reminding me about having my strap on.

Buy Buy Billy.

Upset Waitress — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 01:25:04 +0000

Billy Mays is dead. Now who’s going to sell us crap we don’t need. I’m sure every pitchman in TV land will be attending the funeral though. The Sham-Wow prick will be there selling coffin gloss. Ronco will handle the food at the wake so he can “set it and forget it” all over the place. Susan Sommers will show up at the burial so she can pitch her new colorful pubic hair beads. Everyone will be really happy when Klee arrives with his ass cleansing kit for 5 easy payments of $19.99. But wait, if you act before the casket is lowered into the ground, he will throw in his dual action ass reamer. That’s a value of $499, yours free. Anyway, bye Billy. May you rest in peace and good luck selling baby Jesus bobble heads in heaven.

Road Trip.

Upset Waitress — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 19:11:37 +0000

I’m planning a fishing trip to the Outer Banks. Not sure how it will go since I don’t have a fishing rod or bait but I always remember to bring beer. I’m a little leery going back because I was arrested up there twice before. Not for anything serious, just parole violations and stuff. Anyway, the Outer Banks is a lot like the keys. A little fishing town with a drinking problem. I have always fit in up there but they like to export me back. This time I’m covering all my bases and got permission from my parole officer. Now I just need a plane ticket, a boat, a bag of weed, a fishing pole, and a change of underwear. Who am I kidding, I don’t wear underwear.

:]

Upset Waitress — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 18:00:41 +0000

I went job hunting yesterday. Sunday is the best day to look for a job too. The boss is either at church or spending time with his mistress which means I have a great chance of being called in for an interview. I’m thinking a job with benefits would be nice. After drinking 17 beers at a particular sports bar chain, I put in my application. Looking at the staff I could tell dental benefits were out of the question. The manager with one snaggle tooth dangling from her head explained the only benefits they offered is whole life insurance. Great, so the place is so dangerous that they offer life insurance. Well today is a new day and I’m going to apply as a beer taster at Busch Gardens.

Splish Splosh I Got Tossed.

Upset Waitress — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 18:08:38 +0000

I got fired from my job the other day. My ex-boss is a total douche bag with a big twig up his ass. Anyway, he said he had to let me go because their business insurance would go on the rise since I drink too much on the job. What in the hell did he expect hiring an alcoholic at a bar anyway? Everyone knows I haven’t seen a sober day since I was fifteen. I think he misunderstand when I told him I could handle booze like a pro. What I meant was, I’m very talented at staying drunk and working behind a bar is the most perfect environment for a person like me. I got what it takes to turn a sober soul into an incoherent lush. Anyway, I’m off to apply as a beer taster at Busch Gardens.

Of Course Knot.

Upset Waitress — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 16:59:09 +0000

I went golfing for the first time the other day. It was so boring whacking at a ball then going to look for it. I really liked the golf cart though. It was fun driving drunk on a beautiful lawn without getting arrested. The activity level wasn’t a fat burner either, but it was so hot I sweat out all the beer I drank, and some. Flying a kite takes up more energy. I decided to get a little bit of real exercise, so I went to where the people in front of me were playing and stood in front of the tee and dared them to try to hit me. I bet them a beer for every ball I dodged. I was doing good until about my tenth beer. That’s when I got beaned in the head for the first time. I steadily lost beer and consciousness in the last three holes of golf. I would like to play again sometime, but it will have to wait until these fractures heal or I get drunk enough to forget what the doctor said.

Michael Jackson Beat It.

Upset Waitress — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 01:05:34 +0000

>Or should I say Michael Jackson bit it? Whatever, I just hope all that plastic can be recycled into Lego’s. That way the kids can play with him for a change. I doubt that will happen though. He will most likely be a pedistal beneath an undermount sink. I doubt they will keep him in a cryogenic tube until he can do the moon walk on the moon like he wished. Regardless, it should be back in style by then. It doesn’t matter to me what happens to his remains… they will remain. He is probably less biodegradable than Styrofoam. I just want his white glove. It reminds me of Hamburger Helpers talking white glove, staring in the Broadway rendition of Saturday Night Fever, and that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. What’s going to happen to the Never Land Ranch now that the king of pop ~~poop~~ is dead anyway? They’ll probably turn it into a monkey poo zoo so monkeys everywhere can dig the crap out of their diapers and throw it around freely. It’s nice for Lisa Marie that he didn’t die on the shitter like her daddy did. Anyway, I’m just glad he died as a white man because it proves that in this country you can become anything. Even a rich white man.

The Death Of A Domain.

Upset Waitress — Mon, 25 May 2009 14:52:43 +0000

My domain is about to expire here. Since I’m no longer a waitress I might let it expire. Or not. Maybe. It’s just getting hard for me to keep up with because I’m always either in jail or rehab. Which sucks because they don’t have the internets in our local jail. The rest of the time I’m too drunk to see the keyboard. It seems so hard to delay the demise of a dying domain. It tends to make me upset. If you can imagine that. I think one of the things that upsets me most about the website thing is I have to pay some jackoff company to register my name year after year. That’s like paying my neighbor to let me keep the name my parents gave me. If I had to do that, I would kick old man Johnson’s ass everyday instead of the random beatings that ninety year old prick gets from me now. Unfortunately, domains aren’t like hurricanes, they don’t retire the name no matter how much damage it does. So if I do let it go some other less articulate bitch will destroy the “GOOD” name I’ve worked so hard to build up. I think I should just put it to a vote. Ya’ll tell me what I should do. Leave a yes or no vote in the comments and when my vision clears and the headache goes away I will tally them. Then I will do what ever I want. I mean, come on, who the hell do you people think you are telling ME what to do? The nerve. Oh NO YOU DIDN’T. I am to upset to write any more for you pushy people.

What A Way To Go.

Upset Waitress — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 01:06:59 +0000

I was working today and some guy came in coughing his ass off. I thought the fucker had TB. I told him not to get close to me and to go die in another bar. He told me that I was being rude. Of course I laughed, as if I were satan ripping the ears off puppies. He seemed to be bothered by this. “What the hell is your problem?!” He asked. I looked him dead in the eyes and said, “Your here.” He went on to explain that he was dieing of mesothelioma, and all he wanted was to have a few drinks, a good meal, and to maybe have a conversation with someone. I tried to make it clear, that all I wanted was for him to eat, drink, leave a good tip and get out. He coughed up a lung, slammed down a dime, and stormed out the door.

Social Inbred.

Upset Waitress — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 18:03:55 +0000

It’s time to bash an internets con. There happens to be a mooligan using one of my fellow bloggers name on Twitter and other social sites. This stupid ass likes to write about trios that eat each other out in restaurants and stuff. In Mytrle beach it’s a real popular sex act because it has been proven to lower inbreeding. Anyway, the cousin fucker pictured to my left wants to marry her brother at the Sahara hotel, so she offered to sell my friend her own Twitter name for a mere $10,000 to offset the cost of their honeymoon. That’s not the only evidence I have that this con is inbred. All you have to do is look at her and it becomes evident that her mothers brother is her daddy. It is possible I am mistaken. It could be that the terrier down the road was her daddy, but I doubt it. Her and her mother are more likely to enjoy the company of large barnyard animals and close family members in the bed. I hear tell she taught her donkey how to smoke after only three times of fucking him on camera for her ten year old aunt sisters birthday party. In any case, I can’t believe this stone dumb booger eater has the brain capacity to even use the identity of a well known blogger for monetary gain.

Finger This.

Upset Waitress — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 01:11:24 +0000

It is official. I am starting to get old. I was having pain in my hand every time I would flip someone off. I went to the doctor and he said I had the early onset of arthritis. I gave him the bird and screamed, “Ow!!!!” He told me I was going to have to stop flipping people off. I complained and told him he had to cure me. I can’t live my life without being able to make obscene gestures. So he gave a prescription for Rimadyl. It seems to be working. I managed to give thirty people the bird today pain free.

What A Snot.

Upset Waitress — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 00:59:53 +0000

One of my customers gave me a tip the other day. Unfortunately he gave me the worst most disgusting cold I have had in years. That’s what I get for not noticing he used his hands for a snot rag. I have had to trade my daily diet pill for a cold pill and an antibiotic. The next time I see that mother fucker I’m going shove corks up his nose. His four dollar tip cost me damn near three hundred dollars. The doctor: One hundred ten dollars. Cold pills: Thirty-five dollars. Antibiotics: One hundred seventy-six dollars. Good quality booze to wash it all down: Eighty-one dollars. Living long enough to beat the shit out of the asshole that got me sick: PRICELESS!

I’m Bah ack.

Upset Waitress — Sat, 04 Apr 2009 03:29:15 +0000

Some of you may have noticed I have been absent for a while and missed me. Others of you may have been celebrating my demise. Sorry to disappoint those of you who are partying and getting high on pills trying to find the perfect diet supplementwithout me because I was gone. I’m back. I have been on the mother of all binges. I went out to the bar every day until I could no longer tell day from night. Writing a complete sentence that contained anything resembling a word. I considered a picture post, but all the pictures were so blurry that when I tried to photo shop them I got something that looked like Vincent van Gogh puked up an elephant’s intestines on week old roadkill. Although it was tempting, it occurred to me that no one would understand my point. I am use to that, but it was much more fun verbalize the picture you never got to see. Aren’t you glad I’m back to ramble on about nothing as usual? Me too.

Oh No You Didn’t.

Upset Waitress — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 19:44:44 +0000

Have you ever seen a tv stand? I am sure almost all of you have just answered that question in the affirmative. You are wrong. Yes you are. Quit arguing with me or I’ll kick your butt. I know for a fact you have never seen a tv stand. Just like you have never watched your refrigerator run. Your tv can not stand even if it has legs. It can sit. It can rest, but it cannot stand. So, now I have to wonder what other appliances are said to something they can’t. Please send your suggestions, thought or ideas on this subject to SOMEONE ELSE! I don’t care. I have beer to drink.

Springs Broke.

Upset Waitress — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 17:39:37 +0000

I hate Spring break. All day long I have to deal with obnoxious drunk teenagers armed with their parents credit cards and retarded genes. For some odd reason, these idiot children think they are special and that the rest of us are here to cater to their every whim. I am constantly arguing with them about their fake I.D.s. If one more spoiled brat asks me directions to one of their beach vacation rentals I am going to send them home to mommy and daddy in an envelope. I know that may seem harsh, but let me put it in perspective for you. A group of twelve will walk in and order water with lemon and one iced tea. Them they will get the cheapest thing on the menu, complain about it, run you back and forth a hundred times, and after sitting in you section for two hours being loud and vulgar they ask you to split the check. That’s not the worst part. When they leave they drop a dollar or two each on the table as a tip and then one of them comes back and takes all of the paper money and leaves the coins so he or she can have beer money for the night. I hate Spring break.

I Ain’t Keen On Green.

Upset Waitress — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 19:20:00 +0000

Everyone’s getting ready for this March Madness crap again. Seems like it happens every year or something. Anyway, drunk patrons are hanging cardboard clovers all over the walls and windows of the bar. Some regular lush brought me a green shirt and top hat to wear on the 17th. I don’t go near the color green unless it’s pot, money, or Madori on the rocks. It’s a horrible color. It’s the color of boogers and snot. The Jolly Green Giant and the Incredible Hulk look like complete assholes with that green skin and hair of theirs. Robin Hood’s green leotards are a joke and remind me of stinky feets. Because Starbucks is green I hate their fucking coffee. My eyes are green and every time I look at myself in the mirror I just want to gouge them out with a stick. I don’t eat salad because lettuce is green. I applaud arsonist that start forest fires, and I say they should hurry up and burn down the Amazon because every time I go on Google Earth I have to see all that green. So if your a plant and you are green you need to get a term life quote on an insurance policy because if I see you, it’s Round Up time for you.

Natural Born Hater.

Upset Waitress — Wed, 11 Mar 2009 13:03:06 +0000

I’m trying to hate my new job and new boss. It’s been a challenge though. I’m just looking for things to hate at this point. Like last night I went off on a drunk for tipping me in one dollar bills. I promptly pointed out all of the exit signs to him and said, “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out!” I fucking hate cashing that shit in. Then I had to go out to my truck to get my cigarettes and some fucker held the door open for me. I yelled at him for insinuating that I wasn’t capable of doing it for myself. Then on my way home, while I was at a red light, a bum sprayed what appeared to be urine diluted with motor on my windshield and smeared it around with his booger encrusted sleeve. He then held out his hand asking for money. I tried to run him over. I hate people who beg. When I got home my dog bounced all over the place then brought my slippers, the T.V. Guide, and a beer. I kicked over the fence. I hate a suck up. When my neighbor brought her back and told me he found her in his yard so he gave her a bowl of food and some water, I told him right off. I hate nosy neighbors.

Forget Me Not.

Upset Waitress — Sun, 08 Mar 2009 03:10:08 +0000

I had to work some kind of alzheimers function today. It so happens I forgot to show up to work. I had a good excuse, but I forgot what it was. As it turned out, I wasn’t the only one late. Apparently no one else remembered they were even supposed to be there. The event didn’t get started until three hours after the time it was slated to begin. I was expecting a large turn out from the community, but that didn’t happen. Somebody forgot to advertise. We were going to have a raffle but no one remembered to pick up the tickets. One of the prizes was an awesome led light. Of course they couldn’t bring to mind where they had left it. The good thing is everyone that did show up donated two or three times because they forgot they had already done so. I suppose all in all it was a memorable event if they could. We are doing it all over again tomorrow. No one remembered that we had done it today. I need a drink so I can forget all this madness.

My New Toy.

Upset Waitress — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 16:05:54 +0000

After a hard day of drinking I decided to go to the bar for a drink. While sipping from a bottle of whiskey, I noticed an inflatable Budweiser boat complete with scantily clad girls and the name of the bar on it. I told the bartender I wanted to buy it. He said, “You can’t buy that. It is a custom promotional product made special for the bar.” I broke the now empty bottle of whiskey on the bar and held the jagged edge to his throat. I explained to him that I was not leaving without it. After a few tense hours and a brief standoff with the police I was the proud owner of an inflatable power boat. You may wonder why I am not in jail. The truth of the matter is, I wanted to go home and as you can see I get what I want. Besides, it cost about forty thousand dollars to repair the damage to the jail the last time I was there. The police are no longer allowed to arrest me. I only have one problem. Where the hell am I going to put this fucking boat?

Intellectual Crap.

Upset Waitress — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 03:07:13 +0000

My douche bag neighbor decided to post this stupid sign out in front of our house. It just so happens I let my dog shit where ever she dammed well pleases. I don’t see the point of wrapping up a biodegradable piece of crap in a plastic baggy that will never go away, and tossing it into the garbage can. I am fairly certain crap disintegrates at super sonic speed. Plus lots of bugs and stuff like to eat the poops. Instead of pantry moth traps, distract them with feces. Why deny them that tasty treat? I’m also pretty sure that shit is good for the grass too. When my lawn looks drab I toss some good ole chicken shit on it and it perks right up. Then the lawn looks good. I shit you not, people should be more thankful of shit. There is nothing more beautiful than the morning sun glinting off a warm dewy turd as the steam gently rises above the tender blades of spring time grass. Capturing its subtle architecture and rich deep colors. The aroma wafting to your nostrils arouses your senses and sharpens your mind. Not only is a puppy pile intriguing and artful, it is a chronicle of where your dog has been and what it has been eating. It can tell if it is sick or well. Now why would anyone throw out such a heap of usefulness?

Fresh Breast Of Coffee.

Upset Waitress — Sat, 28 Feb 2009 22:48:30 +0000

Some place in the Arctic opened up a topless coffee bar using boobage to stimulate the economy. It’s somewhere in Maine I think. You know, where the average body weight is something like 350lbs which is equal to 17 computer desks. Fatso’s up there. Anyway, I guess 9$ for a cup of 36DD coffee don’t seem so bad. I imagine it a kind of place where old strippers go to die though. Whatever, it just ain’t safe to be serving coffee with no shirt on. Wait til one of them bitches scalds her titty. She’s gonna sue the owner for being to god dammed cheap to buy uniforms in the first place. I told my old man about it and he says he can’t wait for one to open up here. When I asked him why, he said, “I love big hot creamy sweet boobies”. I don’t think he understands that if you dip your boobies in hot coffee the nipples will fall off and slide down to your belly button. Sure he doesn’t care where he has to lick the nipples as long as he gets to lick nipples. He says if they fall off he will just take them home and chew on them like bubble gum. I can see him blowing a big French vanilla flavored nip bubble. Pffft.

Nix The Boss.

Upset Waitress — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 13:37:39 +0000

My vacation is almost over. Since I fired myself I have had a lot of thinking and drinking time. I won’t miss that shit hole restaurant or the boss that screamed my name like he’s being murdered. Four long years I worked for that fat asshole. He has the sleep number bed side manner of a pubic crab with rabies, and that’s putting it nicely. Because of him I’ve pulled almost every hair out of my head and twat. All this time I’ve been saving the hair so I could braid a noose to hang the fat fucker with. Four long years that piece of shit had me in a douche nozzle depression. I heard the asshole cried like a two year old girl when he had to get a job. He finally found a job befitting his personality. He is shoveling horse shit in a fertilizer factory for minimum wage. I went to visit him so I could point and laugh. It was the best day of my life. He was covered in shit and sweat as some nineteen year old kid yelled and berated him. I was thinking that this was Karma doin’ it’s stuff. I think I can finally throw away the hair from my head but I am going to keep my pubes so I can finish my macramé.

No Monkey Business.

Upset Waitress — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 20:34:39 +0000

Damn some woman was pretty much eaten alive by a doped up chimpanzee the other day. The ape was having a mood swing so his caretaker gave him a xanax and the keys to her car. So he did what every ape dreams to do. He went ape-shit and chewed the face off of a human. Lucky for the human she didn’t have nuts because that would have been first to go. I don’t think apes like humans one bit, accept for The Japing Ape, who is a blogging primate that’s into human porno . Maybe the chimp found out how much money his keeper made from his labor. Look what Michael Jacksons monkey did to his face. Sure the sex was good but he got tired of Micheal cheating on him with little boys. Anyway, the apes caretaker is an old drunk granny with the brains of a BB. Instead of having a man around to share wine and the bed with, she had a shit throwing primate. I bet she could have taught a human man to do that. I know my old man is just waiting for me to tell him it is O.K. for him to throw his shit at the walls. I think the important thing to note in all of this is that certain animals should stay in the wild and certain people should be put to sleep.

Wanted: Dead Or Alive.

Upset Waitress — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 16:13:59 +0000

Don’t piss off the internets. I was hanging out online pretty much all day yesterday and had my eye on this controversial video. Two punk kids beat the hell out of a fluffy cat named Dusty then uploaded it to You Tube. LOLcats.com shit furballs. Anyway, I had the UNpleasure of watching the video before You Tube pulled it off. The internets wanted blood and went right for the jugular. It found the fucktard, Kenny Glenn, only a few hours after he submitted his cat abuse video. The internet has posted his info., including his address, school, phone number, parents names, links to his myspace, links to his dad’s business and so on. The kid was caught, released, and charges are pending. Dusty the cat was taken to the vet where he will stay just to be safe. The internets still wants revenge though, and the starting bid is 100$ for any pics of Kenny Glenn bleeding. The internet has found him guilty and he is officially on death row. Until kenny Glenn is charged, all the cats around the globe named Garfield are protesting by not burying their shit. You shouldn’t worry too much about the cat however. Many of the area Chinese restaurants have offered to give it a good home. I think that it is time for Oklahoma to finally start enacting and enforcing laws against inbreeding, so that people like Kenny Glenn won’t be able to reproduce. The state should euthanise the whole family and others like them. Only two other people have embarrassed their families so completely in recent history. One was the 14 baby bitch and the other was our former President. It is important to note however, they are still allowed on the internet. Kenny Glenn you have been nominated and are currently in the lead for DUMB ASS OF THE CENTURY!

Love Stinks.

Upset Waitress — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 22:06:47 +0000

I am supposed to go get drunk with RG on Saturday then it just donned on me that Saturday is Valentines day. After our drunk I suppose I will have to go find the border and take my old man out for dinner to Taco Bell. It’s his favorite place because they give out free rolls of extra soft toilet paper with every chillito burrito you order. He said he would like a blow job after dinner. I told him I’m not getting anywhere near his ass after he eats taco hell. Besides, the closest he is ever going to get to a blow job from me is a fart in his face. I am going to eat a spicy chicken bowl and two chicken soft tacos so I will have some real foul gas. I think that nothing says I love you like the promise of diarrhea and a sore asshole. Anyway, I figure while my old man is in the bathroom giving himself aroma therapy, I will have plenty of time to spend some time at the neighborhood bar making goo goo eyes at a tall glass of rum punch. Ain’t love grand?

A Sob With With No Job.

Upset Waitress — Wed, 11 Feb 2009 02:46:43 +0000

I am still on my vacation. I could sure get used to this. I haven’t done shit these past couple of weeks. Well accept go to every bar in South Florida. At least twice. Speaking of twice, I did get arrested twice. Once for showing my boobs near a retirement facility. Then for stealing my neighbor Mr. Johnsons mail. In my defense, I was drunk and didn’t even know it was a mailbox. I just thought I was gutting a big white chicken on a tall stick. I thought I was giving a big white chicken a home and all. Anyway, I haven’t been sober since I lost my job. Though I think I’m supposed to start a new job… last week? I know they gave me a uniform and everything. I’m pretty sure I lost the pants in the nearby woods. I think I still have half of the shirt after I tore it off while dancing on the bar. Whatever, they can take it out of last weeks paycheck.

Free Should Have A Warning Label.

Upset Waitress — Sat, 07 Feb 2009 23:49:20 +0000

O.K. last Sunday Denny’s restaurant gave out free breakfast from 6am until 2pm, or free diarrhea from 3:30 pm until midnight. Depending on how you look at it. I think free is cool, especially if the food is shitty, but I would never wait in a line with a hundred cheap assholes or emaciated homeless people. These are the kind of freeloaders that bathe themselves in the gas station bathroom and steal the toilet paper to use as pillows. Who would want to sit and eat next to a stinky homeless person that just urinated himself? If I were going to do that I would just take my grandmother down to the dump for a picnic. The smell would be the same. Only difference is my grandmother would be less likely to wipe her boogers on me. Anyway, I would have never worked such an event. I would have fired myself. I’m pretty sure you have to be nice to the customers when you work at Denny’s and for those of you who know me you know that’s not going to happen. Well my Lange Sohne is telling me that it is beer thirty and I am all ready ten beers behind. I am going to go catch up.

Mutiples Of Stupid.

Upset Waitress — Wed, 04 Feb 2009 14:32:41 +0000

So some young dumb unemployed woman, already a mother of six brats, decided to have a litter of eight more. She wants a job as a child care expert on T.V. The woman is fucking nuts. Not to mention rude. I think we should all get together and kick her ass. In case you were wondering why I would say that, here is my explanation. You and I and the rest of the countries tax dollars are paying for this idiots multitudes of brats. In my state a certified babysitter can’t have more then five children at once. If there are six units, she must have another sitter. So shouldn’t this jobless twit be certified to watch her fourteen kids, and have to hire two more sitters? Instead this motherly moron has her spawn littered all over the state. Some are here, some are there. Some are in her dirty underwear. She thinks that someone will pay her to tell us how to be a responsible parent. In reality I am relatively certain that the general public will have her committed to a mental health facility. I think the doctors that assisted her in this effort should have their licenses revoked and then be strung up from the nearest overpass at rush hour. Finally the persons that are most irresponsible for this train wreck are her parents. They not only gave birth to a retard but they let it live, and worse than that, supported it. They went bankrupt and had to sell their house and move in with the stupid bitch. It is my belief that if the house with no home insurance they live in burnt down with all of them inside, the cumulative I.Q. of the world would go up a hundred points. This event must surely be covered by Nostradamus in a quatrain about the apocalypse. Demon seed spewed forth from the deformed mind of a young woman, whilst the hand of man smiled at his achievement and the devil prepared his minions.

The Bowl Was Super.

Upset Waitress — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 00:49:18 +0000

I went to a super bowl party yesterday all by myself. Actually I’m still celebrating. I have two mutts with me to keep me company. Anyway, I love myself and alcohol a lot so naturally I am having a super time. When is super bowl? Whatever. I just hope both teams lose. I fucking hate footsy ball. There is nothing like a bunch of closet fags tossing an inflated pig scrotum and slapping each other on the ass. I can’t even believe it’s a sport. Supposedly the commercials are supposed to be the best part of this sweaty nut sack event. Did any of the super bowl ads top the latest Stanley Steamer commercial? You know, the one where Toby the dog grinds his ass on the white carpet? Ahh whatever. I don’t even own a TV. I pawned it last week for 7 cases of beer so I could have a super bowl party. It’s working out great for me. I have a super sized bowl that I poured my beer into. The dogs and I have been drinking beer all night. I started drinking the beer in the conventional way by lifting the bowl to my mouth, but by sunrise I was kneeling beside the dogs lapping it out of the bowl. Of course after drinking all that beer I had to relieve myself. I sniffed around and found a fire hydrant, lifted my leg and peed. Unfortunately I forgot I was wearing pants. Then I chased a couple of cars. The only problem is the third one I chased was parked. I have got the worst headache. I got a little horny so I humped some dudes leg. Then I bit the mail man. Yes after hanging out with dogs all night I had a slight identity crisis. When I sober up I will just go back to being a bitch.

Alcoholics Dream Job.

Upset Waitress — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 22:42:12 +0000

Well I finally got a new job. What’s worse then waitressing? Bartending. I landed a gig at a local watering hole. Last time I was there I lost my pants and danced like an asshole so I’m surprised they hired me. Maybe that’s why I was hired. Anyway, the best part about this job is the alcohol. I hope my new boss doesn’t think I’m going to stay sober during any shift. I’m an alcoholic and won’t be changing my ways. As long as he understands that, then we will get along just fine. If I do this right I will have him in line in no time. I have devised a plan for systematically getting inebriated. I was going to start with the cheap well booze, but I have revised that. I am going to start with the expensive call liquor and when I have a good buzz on then I will finish with the cheap crap. That way I don’t have to taste it. One of the other bartenders already hates me. I think I will hate him back more. My old man says thats not right. I say fuck that judgmental asshole, and the bartender too. I am fairly certain I will enjoy working at the bar. I am almost positive I won’t remember any of it. They want me to cook too. I told them I would and then I giggled for an hour. Apparently they have never eaten at the restaurant. Suffice it to say, I will be working soon and meeting new customers. May GOD have mercy on their souls. I won’t.

End Of An Era.

Upset Waitress — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 00:45:57 +0000

Today was my last day. It was great in my eyes. I closed down the closest bar and stumbled in to work. I brewed what I thought was coffee, filled up what I thought was the ice bin, and set out on the tables what I thought was creamers. My new boss arrived and asked me why the coffee tasted like fecal matter, why all the ice was yellow, and what the hell is the Elmers glue doing in the cream pitchers. In my drunken stupor I told him the truth. “I have no clue ~~you stupid asshole~~ sir”. Naturally I passed him a beer fart and started laughing more farts out of my ass. Unlike me, he was not humored in the least bit. Then I just told him that it’s my last day and if he didn’t like it he could fire me. Then I laughed my ass off. He just stormed out whining like a little baby. So I went online and found him somecatimini

baby things. I am going to have it shipped to the restaurant along with a card that says some day you’ll be a man. My ex-boss was throwing an even bigger fit. He was crying because he has to work for a living now. About noon, just as we were getting busy I sat down kicked off my shoes propped them on one of the tables and drank a couple of margaritas. I waited on tables the rest of the day with a bottle of rum in my hands. Then I went out for celebratory drinks after work. I think I will show up drunk and in flip flops as if I still work there just to piss off the new owners.

A Day Of Drama.

Upset Waitress — Thu, 22 Jan 2009 15:28:51 +0000

I guess Ted Kennedy’s piñata of a head is only going to get even larger with that tumor growing up in there. You guessed it, sympathy wasn’t my gut reaction when I heard about the rock formation in his brain. All I could think about was, what really happened to what’s her name. I’m not old enough to know her name and my old man is so old he forgot. The red faced fat dork was drooling on a piece of Melba toast while staring at Kerry’s butt when he had a seizure. It was like Pop-rocks went off in his big ole head or something. I think he was just upset that he wasn’t getting any attention. Of course, the oldest man in the Senate could let him get away with stealing the lime light. He collapsed within moments after Kennedy. Either they were feeling left out or they simply couldn’t listen to Obama give the same speech he has been giving since he was running for the Democratic nomination retooled. Anyway, the most annoying thing about the inauguration process is that it was on every TV. channel I turned on to avoid watching it. I think I am going to complain to my neighbor about the cable I am stealing from him. He is going to have to upgrade and get more channels or I’m going to make him ride with Teddy after a drinking binge. I did hear about the moving companies that were hired to move Obama in and drag George Bush out kicking and screaming. I also heard a little bit about the private conversation between Obama and Bush. It went something like this:

Bush: “Mine!”

Obama: “No mine!”

Bush: “Mine!”

Obama: “George get out!”

Bush: “Kiss my ass. I’m the decider, and I’ve decided to stay!”

Obama: “I am going to call secret service and have you removed.”

Bush: “Oh yeah. Well I’m going to call Stanley Steamer and tell them there is a black stain in the oval office and have you removed.”

Obama: “That does it. I’m going to kick your dumb cracker ass.”

I love TMZ. they always have the most in depth coverage of the most trivial crap.

Where Will He Go?

Upset Waitress — Wed, 21 Jan 2009 02:43:46 +0000

I think my boss is being forced to retire. I found a brochure on Wilmington NC real estate in his box of things he was moving out of the office from the restaurant. I questioned him about it, but he just snarled at me and said, “Do you think anyone is going to hire a sixty year old fat man for anything but a Walmart greeter?” I was speechless as I pictured him screaming at the patrons, “WELCOME TO FUCKING WALMART!!! NOW GET THE FUCK OUT YOU CHEAP BASTARDS!!!!”, and beating up children for the lollipops their moms just bought them. Then I tried to see him taking orders from some wet behind the ears teenager at McDonald just before he threw face first into the fryer and shoved them into a happy meal box. I spent the whole evening getting drunk and daze dreaming about what he might look like in a number of odd jobs. I was constantly giggling to myself like a soup kitchen retard. At one point I was laughing so hard I had beer shoot out my nose all over the new owner of the restaurant. When he asked me if I had been drinking, I told him not as much as I could be, and left him to wonder. The highlight of my day was when the new owner asked me to make him a Ceasar salad. I joyfully made him one with my very special phlegm dressing and cooler floor anchovies. I can’t believe he ate the whole thing.

They Sold My Job.

Upset Waitress — Wed, 21 Jan 2009 01:40:29 +0000

My boss was kicked out after 12 long years. He took a shit hole and turned it into a functional well lubed shit hole and for the next two weeks he will be helping with the inauguration of the new ass in charge of the hole. I might or might not be able to last these final two weeks with him. I told him I would, but only if I could drink at work more than I already do. The new owners are real butt munchers, and not in a fun spanky way. By that I mean, In the past I’ve rubbed their drink straws in my ass crack. I know. Lucky fuckers. Only I made sure I left the donkey jizz from the weekend before. So yes, they’ve tasted my ass, and a donkey’s dick. I know they liked it because of all the refills they asked for. The new retards in charge had polishing Votive candle holders all day. As if they were going to class up the hash house from hell. Anyway, I hate that I just got RG fitting in here, like a double dong in a pair of uneven dikes on opposite sides of a hill. She’s all freaking out Sam Kennison style. I’m hoping to drag her along wherever I end up. That is if anyone will even hire me. My foul mouth, bitchy attitude, and drunken rages seem to keep me out of the workforce. Maybe I’ll become a kindergarten teacher. I certainly drink enough. Who better than I to encourage the youth to sit down and shut the fuck up. I will miss torturing my regular customers, and would like to think they will miss being abused by me. So farewell to the cockroaches and rats that have made our food so tasty, to the drunken cook who combs his pubes with the forks, and adios to the Mexican bus boy, who will now have to swim the Rio Grand and sneak back into Mexico in shame.

When Good Nuts Go Bad.

Upset Waitress — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 17:03:01 +0000

I can finally give a legitimate reason for not sucking my old mans nuts. Nuts are bad for you MMMkay. Sure many people have developed allergies to nuts in recent years for some inexplicable reason. Now they are just poison. People are in danger of starving to death because I guess peanuts have contaminated every snack in the country. Don’t eat them Little Debbie’s or you will die, says CNN. I guess my son won’t be eating cookies for dinner tonight. I might actually have to rummage through the neighbors garbage to find something for him to eat. I have to hurry before the garbage truck gets here or he’ll have to lick the cats ass for sustenance again. I didn’t bother going to the bar last night because they didn’t have their usual free peanuts. Today they decided even crackers and ice cream is infected. Apparently China is painting all our food with lead paint again. Ooh, that gives me an idea. I have been saving some paint chips in my Samsonite luggage since nineteen seventy-two. I should just make paint chip stew. I am sure it will be better for him than peanut butter. Of course, he may still want to lick the cats ass for dessert. At least it has more flavor and nutritional value than McDonalds.

D.C. Give It Back To Columbia.

Upset Waitress — Sun, 18 Jan 2009 00:11:32 +0000

I saw on the news today an army of portable shitters lined up to engage war against all the onlookers asses attending the inauguration. I say that’s a bunch of shit. 1.5 to 3 million people are expected to be there and only 5000 shitters are in place? They will be full of shit in no time like motorcycle accident lawyers Los Angeles. That’s not fair to our ass pipes. We need to shit up everything, so how in the hell is 5000 crappers going to handle all that ass goop? While it is inconvenient to have so few accommodations for so many, it does mildly state the obvious. Nothing can handle all of the shit in D.C.. However, it is a turd herders dream. Never has an event put so many turd wranglers in business. This would be Joe the plumbers time to shine. I think if they took a count of all mookie stinks plopped in the port-a-lets they find that the republican party would have a million new members after the inaugural speech. I am convinced that would have been more port-a-potties but half the country is still shitting itself over having a blackish man as their commander and chief. The KKK filled sixty-five thousand port-a-lets and soiled two million sheets in Mississippi alone. Then of course there were the Christians. They must have filled every pew with poo three times, and the Jews are all crapping dreidels thinking that the Muslims have invaded. They seemed to relax a little when they realized they still owned Hollywood. Strom Thurman even rolled over and shit twice in his grave, and was quoted as having said, “At least I didn’t live long enough to see it happen”. Poor Hillary has been crapping her granny panties since the Democratic convention. I think that Obama is going to be a wonderful president, and if any one tries to assassinate him he is already camouflaged. All he would need to do is hide in the turd gallery, also known as congress. Well all this talk about shit is making me hungry, so I’m going to eat a Tootsie roll and drink another margarita.

An Apple A Day…

Upset Waitress — Sat, 17 Jan 2009 22:21:50 +0000

Something’s going on with Steve Jobs again. I would totally think this guy is a hypochondriac accept he really does look like an AIDS victim on Fenphedra. Maybe that’s why Apple came out with that Mac Air? All thin and emaciated just like it’s maker? leave it to a sixty pound man to put into production an anorexic computer. No matter what his little horse shit problem is he needs to live long enough to make an iPhone 4G with a French tickler so us women can get the full benefit of ignoring our husbands phone calls while it is on vibrate. I guess the sucker has a hormone imbalance. They say it is because he had pancreatic cancer, but I think it is because he secretly wants to be a woman so he can enjoy the vibrate mode on his iPhone. I don’t know, but as the CEO of Apple, he needs to get it together. He has enough money to by a new pancreas and a couple of spares. I wonder if he can sue for copyright infringement on things like, Apple Jacks, apple cider, Fiona Apple, and even Applebee’s. He might make them re-right all the Johnny Appleseed story books. I think he should have named his portable computers, road apples. I know that is what you call horse crap, but you don’t want to step on them and that might protect your computer if you leave it on the ground. Let’s face it, people always stop and look when you holler “watch out for that road apple”. I guess I should simply wish him well and hope he gets better. I don’t think it’s fair that someone like Kieth Richards can do every drug known to man and snort his dead father and be in seemingly better health than a man with a cool name like Jobs.

Fly Me A River.

Upset Waitress — Sat, 17 Jan 2009 00:17:59 +0000

I’m so glad I don’t fly. Yesterdays event in New York is just one reason I won’t board a plane. Besides crashing and burning to my death, I just don’t see me stuck in mid air with a bunch of retards sitting near me. I am sickened at the thought of complete strangers close enough to catch his/her fleas, or smell his/her disgusting body odor, and I certainly don’t want to die with them. Worse yet, share that little tiny chemical toilet at thirty thousand feet in turbulent weather. Anyway, I guess the pilot is some sort of hero and stuff. So, he figured out that water is softer than a housing development. That makes him smarter than your average bear. I have to wonder if he was getting a hummer from one of the flight attendants when that flock of birds conspired to bring down his plane, or if he was mooning the big apple and that is why he didn’t see the birds and fly around them. Perhaps he was distracted by Flowering Japanese Magnolia trees. Maybe the sun was in his eyes. At any rate, he did a remarkable job of washing his jet liner, but I think someone should have done that before it left the hanger. I think he secretly wanted to go white water rafting.

Drinking And Driving.

Upset Waitress — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 02:28:42 +0000

My kid hates me again! He’s all mad because I wouldn’t let him drive. Last time I let him drive, he took me to the wrong bar. That time I forgave him because after all he’s only ten years old. The other day I let him drive me around partying and he forgot to put the car in park when we got to the third bar. As we got out of the car it drove itself into a crowd of drunks, through the lobby of the motel next door and into the pool. He tried to blame it on the six rum runners I made him drink through a funnel. I told him to quit blaming it on the booze, grow up and take responsibility for his actions. When the police arrived to take statements from the bystanders that were left standing they confronted me as to why the kid was driving, I told them I had no idea why he was driving I was just hitching a ride and he pulled over and picked me up. Apparently, the car went through a table full of promotional productsworth more than the Hope diamond. Thank goodness the car was in his fathers name. When they called him to come pick up the kid, he tried to explain that it was my fault, but they wouldn’t believe him. I think he was a little upset that I was at the bar down the street when the cops were handcuffing him. He called me for bail money, but I was sleeping it off. Two days later he made it home. Of course I bitched at him for being gone so long and told him if he wasn’t going to take our relationship seriously and be here when I need him I was just going to move in with cop that I spent the night with while he was in jail. I mean, it does get lonely in bed without someone. I think it will all work out. We are going to go visit the young-un Monday after work.

I Caught A Bug.

Upset Waitress — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 00:23:50 +0000

I’ve been doing a lot of gardening as a source of therapy these days. It really sucks because all these yummy looking bugs have suddenly come my way. On one of my flowery plants there are these juicy juice looking thingies. They look like living Starburst candy to me. Anyway I haven’t tried them personally but I saved them for yesterdays buffet. I stuck them in the fruits and nut pile and noticed people seemed to really gravitate toward them. I decided I would give them a taste. I popped one in my mouth and was turned off. It was O.K. but it needed hot sauce. That didn’t work so I showered another one in ranch white trash style. It still tasted like dirt. Then I ate one with a handful of discount supplements drizzled in chocolate sauce. It wasn’t too bad. Apparently the bug are hallucinogenic, so I decided to have another. However, I was out of supplements, so I had to eat it with a handful of zanex. I woke up six hours later naked and hanging by my toes from the seven mile bridge singing I am Henry the eight I am. I couldn’t wait to get home to my garden for some more bugs. Now I am an insect junkie. I just sit in my garden eating bugs and listening to the song White Rabbit. Ahhh. The good life.

Mean Girls.

Upset Waitress — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 23:40:21 +0000

RG worked her first day at the hole of hell. It was fun for me. Wait, wait, just wait, here it comes. She fits!!! Literally, she fits into this place that practically only an anorexic stick on diet pills can work. She was like a little piece of rice with arms and legs. It was all I could do to keep the cook from putting her in a burrito with beans. She is so skinny I didn’t have to open the door for her. She just slid through the crack. It was cute. Anyway I hardly even noticed her. She kept hiding behind a toothpick. That is until there was a line of people outside the bathroom, and she yelled because someone thought she was the handle to the plunger. She promptly pointed out that she was much better dressed than the plunger. She spilled soup on some customers and totally ruined their Polar watches, white shirts, and flowerdy dresses. So I grabbed the mop we use to clean the overflow from the portapotties with and began to swab them up and down and all around. Anyway that didn’t even come close to cleaning these people off. That is when I decided she should hose them down. I shook scouring powder all over them while she hosed them and scrubbed them with a grill brick. You know, those bastards didn’t even leave a tip. Disgusted I Finally had it and pulled out my bottle of vodka, had a couple or five sips and started dumping what was left of the soup on the party next to the one that had just stormed out. We cleaned them the same way. We told them if they didn’t leave us a tip we would clean their car next. They left us a nice tip as they shivered to the parking lot. We had our ten shift drinks, set the cook on fire and called it a day. I love working with her. She’s so fun!

Welcome To My World.

Upset Waitress — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 00:28:55 +0000

Well RG is finally getting settled into the island life. I’ve been on my best behavior thus far by only drinking at work and such. It’s not like I shoot up at work, but still, she’s probably freaking out about our lax lifestyles in these parts. When she visits me in rehab on Thursday I’m totally going to tell her how much I love that she can legally drive without blowing into a breathalizer to start her car. I mean it’s such a quality in a friend. Not only that, she lives amid 13 bars. How cool of a friend is that? I can’t wait for my next day off with her. I am going sit by the pool at her new place drinking margaritas and eating Xanax pie to forget how crappy my job is and pretend that my old man doesn’t exist. I will listen to my ipod and scream every song at the top of my lungs until her neighbors decide to move back up north. Then I’m going to pass out in front of the sales office of her complex so that no one else will try to move in. Because that’s what friends do for one another. I am so glad Restaurant Gal is going to finally get to experience the suck hole I live in the way I do.

Jaunita Mi Perro es una Buena Chica.

Upset Waitress — Wed, 31 Dec 2008 12:56:02 +0000

Nothing is cuter then Jaunita Maria Anita Rosa Lopez. My son brought home a baby bunny, which I laid out moth traps to rid it, finally I clubbed it to death for even attempting to be cuter then Juanita. Anyway, my puppy is so cute she can do no wrong. It was adorable watching her dig a big crater in the front lawn yesterday. She did such a good job the neighbor kid fell into it and broke his leg. She was even cute when she attacked the mailman. Blood was dripping from her little chin. Christmas day she took a sloppy crap all over my mother in laws shoes. I was so pleased I rewarded her by letting her eat my mother in laws panties and shit in her purse so the next time she reaches for a napkin to spit on to wipe the dirt from my kids face she will get a handful of turd.

House Hunting Hoe!

Upset Waitress — Sun, 21 Dec 2008 23:21:54 +0000

Restaurant Gal is moving into my part of the sticks. So, we’ve been on a mission to find this princess a home. Skinny bitch. Anyway, I warned her in advance these parts are holes full of shit, and some. Still we were determined to seek a nice ocean view home for her. Hmmmph. Plenty of those for sure.

One home was so rat infested I could have competed with the local Chinese restaurants usual supplier. A few of the shit boxes had so many roaches that it was like walking on a moving sidewalk in an airport. The only one in halfway decent shape was a large packing crate marked uncle fatties industrial strength diet pills. It was being rented as a two bedroom and one and a half bath. It was connected to a water hose and had a hibachi attached. There were two lawn chairs out front of it. The realter said it was perfect for parties. When she came too, we hit her over the head with a tire iron again just to reiterate what we truly thought of the place. Then we got in the car and left. We laughed all the way to the bar as we knew she would have a hell of a time getting those tire tread marks out of her dress and off her face. Needless to say we decided that cold beers was better than house hunting.

Ship It. Then Me.

Upset Waitress — Wed, 17 Dec 2008 21:51:58 +0000

I thank God and E-bay that I have finished all of my holiday shopping. I never once had to go to the mall or Walmart. No one trampled me, stabbed me, or shot me. I only had to go to one store and by the time they find out that all my checks are rubber, I will be out of the country. That’s right I’m leaving the country and moving to India so I can get a job answering computer questions and putting people on hold for an hour just to tell them that all they have to do is turn off their computer and let it reboot. Ain’t outsourcing great. Anyway, I just hope my brother uses the paternity test I ordered for him for Christmas on an actual human baby and not a sheep. I also hope my sister understands that those are pillow cases and not cadaver bags. My mom, she doesn’t even own a mailbox so she got nothing. My son, he’s getting ice cubes this year. And my old man is getting what’s underneath a fellow ebayers couch cushions. For me, I’m just happy waking up on Christmas day with only a mild hangover.

Playing Dressup.

Upset Waitress — Sat, 13 Dec 2008 21:39:53 +0000

I am going to rave about my iphone again! I have turned this bad girl into a wireless router and am using it as my official internet connection too. My whole house is now under its control. It’s like the swiss army tool of technology. It’s just too cool. I even dress it up everyday. Yesterday I went to a funeral so it wore a black veil. Today I went to the beach so I stuck a thong bikini on it. Tomorrow I’m going to the bar so I made the cutest mini skirt and sheer blouse to put on it. I think I am going to make my own line of i-clothes. If I do it right I can steal a couple of my neighbors cats and make a few fur coats. I know it truly enjoys the pink leather hot pants I made for it. Sure, not a lot of people think about putting garments on their phone, but that’s just because they don’t have an imagination. If they would dress up their phone they might not get as many dropped calls. I know my phone hasn’t dropped a call since I started dressing it up, and it even seems to have a more cheerful ring.

My Newest iToy.

Upset Waitress — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 17:19:33 +0000

I got an early Christmas present today from the bossman. It’s not a bird. It’s not a plane. It’s an iPhone. Even Chuck Norris doesn’t have the powers this cool gadget has. My new toy puts the Krypt in Ite. This is the most functional bundle I’ve ever fingered. It even does my laundry. I don’t know how I’ve been living without it all this time. Not having it would be like living without kitchen faucets or air conditioning. Which is impossible. It’s replaced so many things in my life already too. My boyfriend, my porn collection, my ipods, and the teddy bear I used to sleep with. Anyway, I love this toy more then I love myself. Which is saying a lot. Because I love myself all the time.

It’s Crappy.

Upset Waitress — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 17:06:04 +0000

I didn’t make much money today and I totally blame it on the weather. It’s super cold down here. Somewhere around 57 degrees or something. I don’t know, it’s too cold to see the weather channel. Anyway it’s hard to waitress in long johns, leg warmers, a trench coat, oven mitts, and an electric blanket shoved down my underwear. Plus with my eyeballs frozen over I couldn’t see the shit I was serving. That is, if they even got shit, in which case they were lucky. Because who wants to get shit for breakfast or lunch? Besides them weird shit eaters. And don’t think I can’t tell who you are. You creeps order things like “shit on a shingle” or a “poo poo platter”. And it’s freaks like you that make me a shitty waitress. Pfft!

It Followed Me Home.

Upset Waitress — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 03:42:56 +0000

I got a new pet the other day. It was a ~~reject~~ gift from a customer that was none too sad about giving a puppy to me. Well I think it’s a puppy. Anyway, whatever it is it’s really small. When I brought it home it tripped over a flea. Then it laid down under the Christmas tree. My son promptly hung it up like it was a fallen ornament. It was really tired so we all got together and made it a soft bed out of our belly button lint. My old man was clipping his toe nails and one of the clippings pinned it to the floor. Anyway, we had to name it but we didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl so that’s when we decided to pin it to a petri dish and have look through the Nikon binoculars

It’s a girl!!! I know she’s a Mexican dog because she’s small, brown, and keeps trying to sneak over my border collie. We named her Juanita Maria Anita Rosa Lopez Conseco.

My New Dog?

Upset Waitress — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 03:38:24 +0000

I need to come up with a plan to keep my new puppy, Juanita Maria Anita Rosa Lopez Conseco, safe from household predators. She really really likes my discount furniture, especially the couch, so she protects it like it’s some kind of black pearl or something. Anyway, she fought the dust bunny off pretty well. After she won that battle, I went to fluff up the sofa pillow and noticed her angrily boxing with the ashes that fell off my cigarette. It was a tough fight but she totally went Rambo. Then she was standing vigilant on a potato chip crumb when a house fly came by and carried her away. Carefully I picked her off the fly paper and set her back on the potato chip throne. It was a close call but she totally stuck it to the fly.

Where Did They Come From?

Upset Waitress — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 04:36:54 +0000

I don’t get it, New yorkers are so fricking loud and obnoxious. Especially at the table. It’s like they all have hearing problems and have to speak like that wierd midget dude from the Wizard of Oz. The only thing worse than a group New yorkers at the table are New Yorkers moving next door. Yesterday a movers New York truck pulled in the driveway next door at eleven fifty-nine and fifty-nine seconds. They promptly began banging and clunking. Yelling and shouting and just being a general annoyance. So I went out and let my Rottwieler at them. Now they were screaming in terror as the dog was barking. As a result they didn’t get moved in until seven thirty the next night.

Creative Leftovers.

Upset Waitress — Tue, 02 Dec 2008 22:15:31 +0000

I hate to waste food and this holiday brings out the waste in us. Waste is everywhere. Well this year I was determined not to waste anything. My son used the leftover cranberry sauce for a school project. He diluted the purple crap til it became a pale pink and made a very nice watercolor art piece out of it. It turned out better then we thought it would. Anyway, his teacher was none too pleased. He did pass after we argued that the live ants stuck on the canvas made it a living masterpiece. Way to go son. The turkey bones weren’t wasted either. Those we made into a tv stand so we could get the large non-working console color T.V. from nineteen seventy-two out from under our twelve inch black and white. The yams were the hardest thing not to throw away though. Those we decided to poison and feed to the neighbors yappy mut.

Flash Gordons.

Upset Waitress — Tue, 02 Dec 2008 03:19:27 +0000

Well it must be that time of year again. I don’t mean the holidays. I mean tourist season. Everywhere I turn I am blinded by the flash from these peoples damned digital cameras. Is it truly necessary to take a picture of every McDonalds you fucuking eat at while you’re on vacation? These idiots stop at the top of the bridges to take pictures of the how the blue water magically matches the blue sky as if it were something unexplainable. I even get blinded by the bastards flashes as they take pictures of oncoming traffic as if to prove they were on the road in paradise and someone else witnessed it. I wish they would stay at home and just send me their money. How hard could that be really?

Worst Artists Cd Grave.

Upset Waitress — Sat, 29 Nov 2008 00:01:18 +0000

I got really drunk yesterday and was trying figure out what to do with my old cds. Yes, turkey gets me to thinking. Anyway, I thought I might try to regift the used cd’s this Christmas. Then it occurred to me that most people don’t like the same music that I do. So I thought perhaps I could turn them into mobiles and give them away at baby showers. Possibly turn them into wind chimes, but when they hit each other they only plunk. No chime or ringin’ to them at all. I have considered many options. Then I came across this website AbundaTrade.com online that lets you trade or sell your used cds. I think this is a wonderful idea. Now I can get rid of that crappy Tiffany cd. I’m not sure how I came to own that damn thing, but I will be glad to be rid of it. I am fairly certain that this site will allow me to relieve myself of the ABBA collection as well. I hear they made a small come back. Why? I am not sure, but I hope someone will take them away again. I think that this site is just the greatest. It will give me so much more space in my glove box in the car. I might even be able to put my registration and proof of insurance back in there. I would put the flask back in there too but it just don’t feel right when it’s not tucked in between my bra. Anyway, I have so many used cd’s that I use as drink coasters too. Instead of selling them for a buck on ebay and getting that negative, I think I will send them off to the used cd farm for some quick cash. Anyway, the point is, don’t throw away them old cd’s that you’ve used for wall art, make shift mirrors, or microwave experiments. Send em’ in to AbundaTrade.com for money. And you know how I feel about money. It’s like a magical piece of paper.

Ungrateful Child Makes Me Thankful.

Upset Waitress — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 21:13:45 +0000

It’s November and apparently I’m supposed to be thankful this month. The Mayflower people said so. Anyway, I really am appreciative of a lot of things. For example, I’m super gracious that my fat bitch neighbor pays for cable. I steal her cable and that makes me thankful that I get it for free. I’m also thankful that my brand of liquor comes in a plastic bottle. Nothing makes me praise the Pilgrims like dropping a bottle of booze that doesn’t break. Mostly, I’m just thankful I got my period. You would understand if you met my kid. Anyway, I get the Depo shot, I’m also on the pill, I have an IUD and a diaphram inserted, and when I do the nasty onused Harleys I still triple bag the man rods with spermicidal condoms. Yes I’m that thankful I don’t have more than one vaginal piece of art that made my uterus hang to the floor. Most of all, I’m just thankful that it’s over.

Stick It.

Upset Waitress — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 19:51:58 +0000

I was using my digital camera the other day and I ran out of memory. I told my old man that I wanted a new memory stick for Christmas. He snickered pulled down his pants and said here you go. Here is a stick you won’t forget. I promptly smacked his left testicle. He hit the floor with a thud and a whimper. “Not so funny now is it?” I yelled at him. He replied half crying and half laughing, “A little.” So I stomped on the right one. He conceded at that point that it had no real humor to begin with. Although, I was now wildly amused. Since his balls had swollen to the point of bursting, I do believe he was right. It is a stick I will never forget.

Another Fowl Day.

Upset Waitress — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 19:47:44 +0000

It’s another food holiday already. I’ve got so many cavities from last easter as it is. Not to mention I broke a tooth on last years candy canes. Anyway, at least Thanksgiving isn’t about candy. It’s about gravy. It’s about shoving food up a turkeys ass before consuming it. It’s about eating crappy vintage canned foods like cranberry sauce and pumpkin puree and all that other once a year crap on paper plates. It’s about my guts playing Ephedrasil hardcore while stinking up the outhouse. Thanksgiving is not just about crappy food though. Throw some of your worst enemies into that equation. How I understand it is, this holiday is about being thankful to eat gravy with the family members you hate the most. I mean I like my kid and all, but I really can’t stand all the others. I have to take seven Xanax and drink a six pack just to work up the nerve to even drive over there. Just watching them losers shove their faces makes me sick. Anyway, my mom wants me to bring a side dish instead of the dessert this year. I guess that Jell-O I brought to last years dinner didn’t go over to well because of all the vodka that was in it. My nieces and nephews were the only ones to eat it anyway so I don’t get what the bitching was about. Well, apparently since I split my mom in two, she’s always wanted a peaceful dinner. Which is next to impossible. I won’t allow that to happen, plus, my family puts the dys in functional. We don’t even pretend that we like each other. Actually, every Thanksgiving I come to my mothers house, I arm myself with arsenic. I dump it into the bilge water she calls sun tea. At least my aunt Bitch drinks it even though she hates it. Whatever, now I have to think of a side dish for Thurday’s hell. I guess what I’m trying to say is, pilgrims suck.

Automotive Speedo.

Upset Waitress — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 00:27:39 +0000

The smart car is a tiny little thingie. It’s like a Tic Tac on wheels. They say it is very fuel efficient. It gets thirty-three miles to the gallon. The motor is about the size of my ipod nano. Anyway, I saw one for sale on ebay for eleven thousand dollars. When I looked to see about the shipping costs it simply asked for a self addressed stamped envelope. It would make a cool car for my Barbie doll though. Make for a great clown car too. It would definitely make a good chew toy for my Rottweiler. It would be the coolest shopping cart. I am very certain that my kid could roll it around his Hot Wheels city with ease. If I got a couple smart cars I could use them for roller skates. Perhaps I could sew a handle and a strap on one and use it for a purse. If I filled it with catnip and tied a piece of string to it, I could tie it to the door knob for the cat to play with. They make a convertible version so I could attach a long straight handle to the back and use it as a soup spoon, or if I put spikes on the front bumper it could be a spork. The point is it’s not big enough for my trailer trash family. With me, my old man, and our six children, we would look like illegal immigrants heading to the field to pick beans or something. Though if I were single I would really dig owning a little smart car. I couldn’t go to Costco or Sams or anything like that. And I definitely couldn’t go to a circus or zoo for fear an elephant might stomp on me in my car like I were a sick rat or something. But I could totally see me driving to the liquor store for airplane sized bottles of booze, or going to the post office to buy a stamp. I definitely would drive it to the grocery store for a peanut or orange or something. I would park it in the cart return slot, which is the best parking spot in my opinion. Especially when it’s raining out. Anyway, it’s cute as heck. Cuter then three baby pandas playing in a garden.

Pain And A Pill.

Upset Waitress — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 15:59:50 +0000

I damn near choked to death trying to swallow a stinking diet pill. My old man thought that it was funny. He was pointing and laughing at me as I grasped my throat and turned blue. He didn’t even bother to offer any help. Luckily for me and unfortunately for him, the pill popped out as I passed out and hit the floor. After I regained consciousness, I grabbed one of the large kitchen knives and began chasing him around the house. I plunged it in his groin, pinning him to the floor. Then I set the phone just out of his reach. He screamed like a little girl. I laughed and pointed at him and asked him how he liked it. He cursed at me and said that there was nothing funny about inflicting pain on him. When I asked him why it was O.K. for him to laugh at me choking and it wasn’t funny when he was hurt, he told me that it was that he didn’t want to help me, but that he had just gotten back from the dentist and was still loopy from the anesthetic and that his legs had fallen asleep from sitting on them wrong. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t move. Well, then I started to feel bad. I took put away the knife and told him I was sorry. The bleeding was awful. I called the doctor and asked what he would do for a wound like that. He told me that he would sterilize and cauterize the wound and put a dressing on it. Well since we haven’t got the money to go to the doctor I decided to do it myself. I poured kosher salt and rubbing alcohol on it and then took the iron and sealed the wound. Then I wrapped it in one of my cleanest dirty gym socks. I bet the next time he goes to the dentist he won’t ask to be doped up. I am sure that a root canal without pain medicine would be slightly more tolerable.

Rico Coffee.

Upset Waitress — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 21:23:00 +0000

I went to get a passport yesterday which was a complete waste of time. They made it impossible for me to leave my little island. It was like getting home owner insurance in the hurricane capitol of the world. First they gave me this book to fill out. It asked questions like, “Do you own a box cutter? “, “Is your favorite holiday September 11th? “, and “Do you live in a cave? “. I mean c’mon. All this nonsense could have been avoided by simply looking in my backpack full of gun powder and ball bearings. Then they wanted to see 17 forms of identifications. But they wouldn’t accept my rap sheet. They also wanted fingerprints. I told them Osama came over for a pig roast last night and I accidentally burnt the ends of my fingertips off. Anyway, I couldn’t get a passport because it was too much trouble. It’s easier to smuggle myself into Costa Rica for the weekend. I’ll tell you all about my vacation ~~dengue fever~~ when I get back!

Can You Here Me Now?

Upset Waitress — Wed, 05 Nov 2008 21:40:26 +0000

I’ve seen this little gif thingy all over the net for a while now. Isn’t it cute? It’s even funnier without the audio. Even deaf people can understand what this funny guy is saying. And one thing I can’t stand is people, but the deaf ones really piss me off. It really urks me when they don’t say “hello” back. They are always looking around, up and down, left and right, acting completely clueless. Then after ignoring you the entire time they go and try to get your attention by grunting like a constipated mime. After some drama and a few smacks back and forth, you finally realize the idiot is deaf. By then it’s too late and the cops were brailled because all deaf people assume hearing people know they can’t hear. That’s why I think there needs to be a law that all deaf people should have to cut off their ears.
Anyway, back to the image. It got me to thinking about how much I hate people that can’t hear so I started a new website. It is downloadable audio books for the deaf. It is just the coolest way to fcuk with them bastards.

My Face Gave Birth.

Upset Waitress — Fri, 24 Oct 2008 21:00:00 +0000

After two months off I went back to work today. It was an involuntary two months off, but hey, that suspension was the best vacation I’ve had in years. Anyway, I grew a zit like 2 minutes after I walked in the door. I couldn’t concentrate on serving anyone with an extra head hanging off my chin. So I declared WWIII on my face. I found some 2 year old blackhead treatment under the seat of my truck. It was so hot it burnt my face. My zit had a picket fence around it then. I put some alcohol on it but that only started a party in my mouth. Which is never good. Then I ended up dipping my face into the dishwater. I knew it was dirty dishwater but it had that fancy anti-bacterial sanitizing blue stuff in it. It looked all mediciney and stuff. That didn’t work. Nothing worked. That is until some jerk walked into our breakfast joint and ordered a slice of pizza. Thank goodness because I was healed after I played a long painful game of “Pop-It” on his toast. Ahhh I’m glad to be back.

Playing Safe.

Upset Waitress — Fri, 24 Oct 2008 20:01:31 +0000

The best thing about online sex is you don’t have to take your monitor out on a date, unless of course you are one of those cheap skates that uses cyber cafes or libraries to get on the net. If you are one of those, then yes, you’ll have to hook up at Starbucks or something. Just try to get into a booth that way you are more hidden when you are spooning your laptop. If someone asks why you are licking the monitor, just tell them you are searching for dessert recipes.
Another bonus to doing the virtual dirty is you don’t have to wear protection. You can go crazy with your internal fluid units all you want. With this kind of liberty you can get real kinky. Go ahead and challenge yourself to see if you can write your name on the monitor. Just try to make sure that all the disc drives and usb ports stay semi dry. You can use those open holes for other fun things.

Onto some online sex basics. Once you learn what you can or cannot get wet, the habit gets easier. Like the “enter” key, which is the most important key because it is like saying “yes” to everything. Try to avoid drowning this key. Keep all the jellies and juices as far away from it as possible. Don’t even kiss it.
Another thing is you have to be more gentler then normal with certain things. Like the monitor. Try not to spank the monitor because it will hurt you more and can leave marks.
You can’t get some things too hot either. Especially the speakers. If they get too hot they will quit working. Your internet won’t be able to communicate with you then. Try to use ear phones instead. You can do some fun things with those speaker wires I tell ya.
The most important thing is to keep your modems and routers at a distance. You don’t want to be in the middle of an act and accidentally kick your darling connection through a window. This will only upset the internet and is sure to be a turn off. Getting it turned back on is a lot of frustration. You might even have to talk to a third party to coax it back. Which can be down right fun, but that’s a whole new instructional.

Now You See Me Now You Don’t.

Upset Waitress — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 03:47:53 +0000

I recently heard that among other things people are starting to have problems with discount diet pills. They are taking them for fun instead of what they are intended for. I cannot imagine what on earth the thrill would be. I hear that they are taking these pills and drinking red bull because it gives them a speedy high. Why can’t they just drink copious amounts of coffee like the rest of us? I guess that just wouldn’t do enough brain damage. Besides, who wouldn’t want to look like a concentration camp survivor? I am sure it will help you get into a Trim spa commercial, but that is about it. If you do this long enough you may even end up slimming into nothingness.

Hollow Weenie.

Upset Waitress — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 03:20:26 +0000

It’s that time of year again. You know, where you can dress up like a total freak and knock on strangers doors asking them for something sweet to eat for free. Sometimes I get lucky and an old douche bag gives me a quarter. When I’m all done I usually go home and regift all the crap candy to the begging brats that hit me up. But not this year. This year is going to be different. I’m going to go through the tack shed and find all the oldhorse supplies and moldy rolled oats I can, and that’s what I am going to give out instead of crappy candy. I think I will make little puddles of acid on the walkway up to the house. Not only will it create an ominous fog, it will eat away at the brat’s shoes. I think it is better than the conventional razor blade in a candy apple. Besides that has been done to death.

Natural Selection.

Upset Waitress — Sun, 19 Oct 2008 14:19:25 +0000

I’m broke as a joke and needed to score a few bucks quick. I went to the blood bank to excrete some of my plasma but they weren’t giving out cash today. Instead they were giving out free tickets to some bowling alley 300 miles away. So I went to the bar to see if anyone wanted a cheap lap dance. The bartender said I had a tab from last week so I darted out the door. Anyway, I started to get really bummed out when it occurred to me to that I could just sell my vote. For that matter, I have some dead relatives that have been voting consistently for years. I would be more than happy to sell you their votes as well. I can sell them separate or to one buyer. It really won’t matter which. It’s not like votes have counted in the last two elections. However, we might get lucky this time around. Maybe I’ll go into being a vote broker. Now I just have to figure out if I can or should sell them on E-bay. Perhaps I will develop a new website devoted to the buying and selling of votes. I could call it V-bay. If selling votes on the website doesn’t work out, I could always use it to auction off used sex toys. Just remember that if you buy these votes they do not count in Florida. Also dead person votes work better in the state of Georgia or in the city of Chicago. As with any auction, these votes will go to the highest bidder. Unfortunately, given the current polls, the re pube licking ones will probably snack them up like a snuff queen sucking jizz off the end of some hairy Italians cock. It is possible however that the dumb E craps could want to secure their position in the next Whitehouse sex scandal. I suppose it is a little early to project who will win the election. The only thing that is certain is that whichever one of the two candidates wins, their Vice-presidential nominees will be President within the first two years. I believe Vegas is laying odds on assassination versus corrinary. I think it’s pretty much even odds. Well I have to hit the streets and try to unload these votes.

Large And In CHarge.

Upset Waitress — Sat, 18 Oct 2008 20:48:08 +0000

I was at the restaurant today getting ready for our re-opening. You know, doing things like spraying the gum under the tables for roaches and ants. Anyway, we are not opened for the next two days. Mounted over the door is a big fat 8 ft. X 7 ft. sign that says so. I was inside minding my own business not expecting to be bothered when some fat bitch who has obviously never heard of Phentermine, broke through the sign and squeezed her fat ass inside only to announce how hungry she was. I thought , how on earth could this bitch be hungry? She could live on her own fat stores for a century. If she were to go sun bathing on the beach the marine mammal conservancy would try to roll her back into the water. I noticed that when she waddled out to the dock the tide changed from her gravitational pull. I couldn’t see anything because she caused a total eclipse of the sun. I’m on a lot of drugs so naturally I thought I was dreaming and took another sip of bourbon and washed down a pain pill. Then I realized this woman was like the Kool Aid man. Only she had a mustache. I told her we were closed. This only served to enrage the beast. I bolted out the door and got into my truck. I tried to get away. She stomped in front of my truck. Oh Shit! My windshield shattered at the sight of her face. Then I ran out of gas swerving around this large Marge. I was saved from being crushed to death by the mountain of fat by a group of Inuits that harpooned her so that their village could eat for the next ten years. The only problem I have now is how to get the stain fuzzed out on Google earth.

Stink Fingers.

Upset Waitress — Fri, 17 Oct 2008 01:10:22 +0000

So I understand it’s Global Hand Washing Day (GHWD) today. This day doesn’t really count if you have a home with a clean sink and a grocery store near by. This movement targets the countries that suffer the most diarrhoeal diseases. You know, the poor countries that have contaminated H20(mainly in Africa). They want to teach the poor children that have no running water or anti-bacterial soaps the reprocussions of having filthy fingers. I mean they are so poor they don’t shit in a flushing bowl and most likely don’t wipe their asses. They crap in a hole that is absorbed back into the water table. I wonder if ANYONE in Africa can even get NC health insurance? If so I would like to move there. I would take out a policy on my old man and force him to eat a head of local lettuce. He’d be dead on the spot and I would collect. Anyway most of these people are so poor they can’t even pay attention. So today is GHWD. A day of observance where poor people everywhere wash their paws in stagnant cesspits. Yippee.

Destructive Behavior.

Upset Waitress — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 19:33:52 +0000

There goes hurricane Omar. Bye bye. It’s been three years and not one good blow-job has come to my town. The hurricane center has been telling me for the past three or four years that we are in for the “Big One”. What a bunch of goddam liars. It’s bad enough that it is slow here. Even worse there is no work. This is something that the “Big One” would fix. I have no problem with a good economic boost based on death and destruction. The only bad thing is when it comes to dealing with your insurance. When I get my auto insurance quotes, they know I live under a coconut tree. Not good. Flood insurance? Forget about it, it doesn’t exist here. Come to think about it, wind insurance is almost extinct too. It’s been about ten years since we’ve had a “real” storm here anyway. And that was a cat3 and it still was a pussy of a flea fart wind event. I remember toasting with a shot of Mezcal because I found out I was pregnant and then a wind gust blew out my porch, flooded my house, and tore off my roof. There was lots of good looking working men here shortly after. I slept with a few and one still thinks he’s my babies daddy.

The Thing You Find.

Upset Waitress — Wed, 15 Oct 2008 01:08:56 +0000

I was going through my closet today and I found a rum stained towel, or something that rhymes with rum, and an ash tray from a vegas hotel. I vaguely remember spending a few nights in Vegas but I thought it was all bad dream. I dug a little deeper in the closet and found a rum stained marriage license. Again I think it was rum. there was a sticky photo of me in a miniskirt and a veil also. Now I am confused. I don’t remember offing anyone for insurance money, and I know I would never get married on purpose unless I was going to. I found a couple of skeletons in my closet too. Maybe one of them is my husband. No. It couldn’t be, because what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. I also found a goats head from when I was into Satin worship for that week in high school. It was so old that the eyes had finally dried to dust. I think I will give to my son to wear for his Holloween costume. I will skin the neighbors dog for the rest of his costume. This is what I get for waiting to do my Spring cleaning in October. Truthfully this all started because I was looking for the candied apples I slipped razor blade into for the trick or treaters last year.

Home Sweet Home?

Upset Waitress — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 19:39:39 +0000

Believe it or not in todays housing market people are still trying to get top dollar for condo rentals. I was looking for a night time job in the newspaper, but all I could find was a thousand listings of places for rent. I was amazed at how much everyone was asking. Some of them weren’t bad on rent. However the move in costs were outrageous. It became clear that no one I know would be able to move into a new house or apartment unless they won the lottery. I wonder if these landlords have been paying attention to the fact that people are poor. Let’s face it, we are not all board members of a government bailed out financial institution. Just for their information we are not all trust fund babies either. In this town in order to qualify for public housing you have to make no less than forty thousand dollars a year. The rest of us have to live in our car or in an illegal firetrap of a trailer for higher rent, or we have to live in the squaller of a rented room in someone else’s house. Then are a few of us that sleep in whatever portapotty we can find on an unlocked construction site.

Cheating Death.

Upset Waitress — Sat, 11 Oct 2008 23:18:47 +0000

So I heard on the news today that the Golden Gate Bridge is going to have a big 50 million dollar net installed under it to catch all the stock brokers trying to commit suicide. I think they just need to install some home theater seating and popcorn machine so the rest of us can enjoy the show. So pretty soon if you really really want to kill yourself at the Golden Gate bridge, you will have to step in front of a speeding car instead. No suicidal freak is going to jump into a net only to be saved from the death they so desire. That’s just stupid. not as stupid as loaning money to people they knew couldn’t pay it back. Now they will have to pick a different bridge. One without a net first of all. A bridge with 12 foot stakes 2 inches apart under it would do. Or even a bridge that shoots 10,000 volts of electricity up your ass when you sit on the edge. Even better would be a bridge with built in nooses. Now that would be a true suspension bridge. But all this would cost us tax payers some money. The government gets enough of my money. Hell if you are that hard up to be killed, just come to the restaurant where I work and order the chili or the special. You should feel the effects half way to the portapotties.

Milk Money.

Upset Waitress — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 16:24:04 +0000

Everything is on credit now a days. All the banks are too smart to just give me a credit crd. A credit card is imagimoney. It never existed except in the pockets of the financial institutions CEOs. I decided that I should try to obtain one of the Bank of America credit cards. You have never hear people laugh so hard in your life. I left the bank some what confused. I thought that they were supposed to give credit and loans to people that could never afford to pay them back. So it causes a stock market crash world wide. That only effects the rich people. I have never had a pot to piss in anyway. They might have to give up a house or two and get a back rub from their wife for change instead of the ten thousand dollar spa and hooker service they are used to. They may even have to give up one of their AMEX corporate credit cards. Still it’s not like their kids have to give up drinking milk and eating breakfast like my young un’. He is so used to chasing bugs around in the back yard so that he can have a little protein in his diet that I doubt he’ll notice we can’t afford to give him a birthday cake this year. Maybe next year we will get a real man for a president and a congress that has a set of balls to set the economy strait so even I can live the American dream of owing everyone and not caring.

Nothing To Read.

Upset Waitress — Tue, 07 Oct 2008 15:00:14 +0000

Right now I’m at the public library. I have been down every row and even though there are books everywhere there is nothing to read. I have been looking for hours and have yet to find a single drop of smut. Unless you count Bill Clinton’s memoirs of the oval office. Oh, there was a copy of the Kama Sutra, but that just isn’t what I had in mind. I am not looking for smut for myself. It is for my old man. I was hoping to get him off my back. He is always nagging me about sex. I did find an interesting book about the life and times of President Kennedy, but it was impossible to read. It had a bullet hole through it. There was a book on origami. It sucked. In order to read it I had to unfold it. I thought maybe I would check out a cook book but they were either all sticky and stained or they were burnt. I finally found a couple of books I think I could get in to. “Uranus Is A Black Hole”, by Kim Goldman and “Oops I Dropped The Soap”, by O.J. Simpson. I tried to use the Dewy decimal cards but apparently Hughie and Lewey stole them all. This library sucks. The internet connection is slow, the chairs are splintered, and the whole place smells like urine. Screw this I am going to go to the bar and read the mens room wall. It has to be better than the books here. Besides, they kicked me and my vodka out.

Those Eyes.

Upset Waitress — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 13:00:04 +0000

One thing I hate when taking an order is some young Brittney Spears tramp ordering a cracker behind them fancy shiny sunglasses. Everyone knows that those sunglasses are seventies throw backs that were invented to hide the black eyes that your man gave you because you wouldn’t shut your whiney bitch mouth when he told you to. Now some little no pantie twit biscuits have decided that these were a fashion statement. That is because the only thing they know about the seventies is that they turned it into a show, so it must have been cool. The only other thing they know about the seventies is that due to there excessive partying they will never grow old enough to be in theirs. I can understand if you’re ugly and want to hide your face these might be good for you. However, if you are that ugly, you shouldn’t be out until after dark anyway. These sunglasses might work well if you are wall-eyed or doing a remake of The Fly. Perhaps if you want to rent yourself out as a changing room mirror or send a Morse code signal ship to plane. Other than that I don’t understand the appeal.

It Used To Be A Big Bad Truck.

Upset Waitress — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 00:17:20 +0000

The boss man has been on vacation, so I’ve been stuck at his house watching his evil kitty cat. You just don’t know how rotten this furry gremlin is. Anyway, that’s for another day. So the boss man called me yesterday and told me to expect a BIG delivery. I’m like, whatever. He has been getting tons of shit in the mail. Rifles, blow-up dolls, penis pills, you get the idea. At three in the afternoon someone was beating on the door waking me up. Naturally I was hungover, but I was more miffed that the man came so fricking early and interrupted my sex dream about Brad Pitt. I signed the delivery receipt and promptly went back to hangover heaven. Come to find out, the boss man ordered a brand new ford f 150 . I saw his shiny black chariot parked under the nearest coconut tree. It took me two hours of searching, but I found the keys in a package at the front door. The only reason it took so long is because I’m used to crawling in and out of windows so it didn’t occur to me to use the front door where the messenger had left the box with the keys. I decided to hop inside its colossal cab. Just to try it on for size. Wow! It was roomier then any of the seedy motel rooms I been in. It didn’t smell like moldy cheese like them either. I thought I looked pretty good in it so I decided to head down to the local watering hole to see if I could pick up a hot man. Well actually I just wanted a drink. The hot man was just someone to buy it for me. It was like driving a felt pad over polished marble. Smoother then Petron tequila. There were lots of button thingies inside the cab that had lots of unique duties. One button moved around mirrors. Another button I pushed asked me all sorts of questions so I smacked it. There was even one button just to make the other buttons light up. After a few drinks I decided to see what it was made of. I noticed right off the bat that it had a lot of horse power. I nearly spun the tires bald pulling out of the bar parking lot. I got it up to a hundred twenty miles an hour in less than a mile. Then I decided it was time to test the breaks. I almost flew through the windshield but I never lost control. After a short drive I headed back to the bar because my buzz was wearing off.
At some point, I lost my keys somewhere so I just randomly punched some buttons that fricking located the keys for me. Apparently I was using them to stir my drink. When I got in and started the truck up, it told me to make a left then a right turn. I got annoyed at how pushy it was being, so punch punched Tom-Tom Until till he shut the fuck up and gave a dying sizzle of it’s wires. I even had an announcement that my headlights were about to turn on. I told it to shut up or it would end like Tom-Tom. I swear this truck was like Kit from “Knight Rider” only bigger and had a sexier voice. When I got back to my boss’ house I accidentally ran it into the palm tree. Of course I didn’t want him to find out about it, so I pushed into a nearby canal. When he called me that night to ask about it, I told him it never arrived. I can’t wait to get one for myself. It had to be one of the best trucks I have ever driven.

Money Where Your Mouth Is.

Upset Waitress — Sat, 04 Oct 2008 00:47:33 +0000

With the recent banking crisis I have decided to shop around for new places to put my money. Then I heard about theOuter Banks. I thought that just what I need. A bank outside of the crisis. I looked it up, but all I could find was crap about North Carolina. I am not putting my money in North Carolina. I can bury it in mason jars in my own back yard. I realize that just because I have the money in or out of a bank doesn’t mean it has value in this day and age. The dollar has been devalued so much in the last eight years, that Canadians are laughing at it. Soon it will be more useful as wallpaper than as currency. The good news is my old man has enough gold fillings we can pay our rent next month. Of course, if he finds out I have taken them out and sent them to one of those used gold buyers, he will probably be pissed. It will be awhile before he figures out that i have replaced them with gravel from the driveway and painted gold.

What Is It?

Upset Waitress — Fri, 03 Oct 2008 00:45:59 +0000

I was out and about today, when I spied a man wearing something that looked like a timer from a bomb. It was yellow with a L.E.D. digital display. I thought to myself, what an odd watch. It seemed to be an odd place to wear it also. Why would someone clip a time piece to their finger? I would think that it would make it difficult to feel his penis when he peed. Which I am sure would cause problems for his housekeeper, or his wife. I speculated that it could be a very small cuckoo clock, that he was so proud of he didn’t want to leave it at home. I finally broke down and asked him what it was. He looked at me as if I were being overly nosy. He snapped a little when said it was a pulse oximeter. I asked “Is that like an oxymoron?” He snorted and said, “No! It measures the amount of oxygen in the blood.” I leaned in close, held the tube from his oxygen bottle, and began to pinch it shut. His eyes opened wide as he gasped for air. I said, “If you do not change your attitude, I am going stick your greasy toupee in your mouth, turn up the flow of oxygen and shove a lit cigarette up your nose.” He quickly said he was sorry and very politely explained it’s function to me. I smiled, handed him back his hair piece, and skipped on down the sidewalk like a school girl.

Clean Air Act.

Upset Waitress — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 03:20:00 +0000

After spending the night in the bus station selling high quality ~~crack~~ watches it occurred to me that the bus station could use some Austin Air air purifiers. Then I got to thinking. I could use one in the bathroom after my old man takes a huge dump. Perhaps in the kid’s closet where he insists on putting his dirty socks for later use. Come to think of it, my garage needs one as well. Seeing as how that is where I keep the cat box and I have never changed the kitty litter, or removed the cat after it died three weeks ago. Well it didn’t just die. I chased it down and bashed it’s little head in because it kept shitting even though it’s litter box was full. I should probably get one for my cousin Larry’s house. He is a manure harvester. He spends all day collecting crap from every barnyard animal in a hundred mile radius, and never takes off his shoes when he gets home from work. Then he wonders why no women will move in with him. Come to think of it, they should get one giant one for New York city. If it works they might be able to sell one to L.A.. Perhaps the world could benefit from two or three in orbit.

Found. New Job.

Upset Waitress — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 02:04:48 +0000

I was in the bus station last night sleeping off a good drunk and a bad headache. I find that the smell of old sausage, vomit, urine, and dirty feet is just what is needed to clear ones head and help bring about a good purging of all the left over crap you ate while you were too drunk to know what you were eating. Anyway, when I had just finished adding to the ambiance, a man in a long coat walked up to me. He offered to sell me a wide range of Festina watches. I wiped the spittle from my chin, stood up and kicked him in the groin. After beating him about the head and neck until he didn’t move any more I had a wonderful selection of watches for sale.

Are You Trying T Be A Dalmation?

Upset Waitress — Sun, 28 Sep 2008 23:43:09 +0000

Today I saw a woman with what looked to be one of the most impressive herpie fields on earth. It looked like her face was being humped by pizza. I was convinced you could see this thing from three galaxies away. I thought to myself, she needs to stop eating cupcakes and candy and wash her face with something other than potato chip grease. I told her that I thought it was time that she looked into some acne treatments or only come out at night. Needless to say, she didn’t seem to appreciate my observation. Now, you may wonder why I would bother to say anything to her. Well, I’m bored. I have all this time off and no customers to brow beat, so I have to needle people on the street. This woman clearisilly needed a serious slap in the face with reality. Unfortunately, even Twinkies are afraid of that face. Mosquitos wouldn’t drink her blood for fear they would turn into a flying zit. I named her pussey pimpled Peggy.

Tofu Eeeeew.

Upset Waitress — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 20:56:52 +0000

When the restaurant re-opens, my boss is going to add a new menu item for all you fanny pack wearing, meat hating, won’t touch dairy, fairyfied, fat burners. You sissies make me sick. Because of you, everyday I have to serve a shit smelling vegetable and tofu wrap with non-dairy creme sauce. I just want to shove a foot long wiener down your “I rode my bike from L.A.” throat, and beat you with a frozen tenderloin. I want to take a beer shit in your decaffinated iced tea, and squeeze that lemon in your eyes. Oh, by the way, while I’m on my smoke break, I will run over all your bicycles. Looks like you will be walking back to L.A.. I promise I will think of you while I am on this years baby seal hunt. Every time I bash in their little heads, I imagine that their big glossy unsuspecting eyes are yours. Don’t you feel loved?

PS: Liked the video Troll. My favorite parts were “just Google it”

How To Lose Weight And Get Influenced.

Upset Waitress — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 02:42:22 +0000

Let me tell you about how to lose weight as a waitress. First off, lose your job, then you will starve. Second, drink a lot of alcohol derivatives that you can’t afford. Things like mouthwash for breakfast, cough syrup before dinner, and cologne after. You can get coffee for free everyday while applying for a new job at every truck stop and breakfast joint within crawling distance. Just ask the idiot giving you the application for a hot cup of joe, a pen, and a tampon while you sit there to fill the application out. The tampon is just to remind him not to fuck with you because you’re premenstrual. Later on after drinking copious amounts of coffee it’s just a short crawl to the local bar where you can get a free soda by telling the bartender you are the designated driver. If you leave it on the bar unattended some unscrupulous crack head will drop a Roofie in it for you. Woo Hoo! A free high, and if your lucky a good lay you won’t have to remember in the morning. I’ve got this shit licked. I’m never going to work again.

Great Balls.

Upset Waitress — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 00:41:54 +0000

I’m still on vacation(unemployed) for the next month or so I headed up to Ocala to molest some Orlando golf balls. I really liked them ball washer apparatus thingies. You put a ball in it and pump it up and down until it’s all shiny and stuff. My old man could use one of those, or at least a ten dollar whore to clean his nasty ass balls. Anyway, they got some of the nicest grass in all of Florida. I truly love quality grass. That would explain the goofy clothes golfers wear. They’re always stoned. The kind you want to collect for your crack whore Barbie. They told me I would need to bring my own clubs. So, I brought a group of girl scouts, some members of the Hells Angles, the local chapter of the Black Panthers, and a Mormon family. I was told one of them needed to be a driver. I thought that was going to be a piece of cake. I brought a cabby because they said I would need one to carry my bag. The other golfers seemed to be annoyed at all of the beer bottles, cookies, religious leaflets, and motorcycle tire tracks on the putting green. Apparently, they were upset at the loud music and urine in the cups. I finally got tired of the whiny doctors and lawyers yelling at me for defiling there “sport”, so we all went to the club house where the Mormons got the girl scouts drunk and took them for wives and the Black Panthers and Hells Angles got into a knock down drag out. I decided that golf just isn’t for me. I grabbed the cabby and left just as the police were arriving. We went bowling.

Turning Tricks.

Upset Waitress — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 01:29:32 +0000

This year my girlfriend took five separate Vegas vacations. She came back with a new wardrobe and money to burn. I thought to myself, she must be doing good on the slots. As she was getting ready for yet another trip, I asked her what games she was playing to get so much money. She laughed and said, “I’m not playing any games.” Now I was truly confused. “If your not playing any games, what are you doing?” “I’m doing tricks” She said. I had to ask if she was using protection. She sort of giggled and said, “All of the appropriate safety measures are taken.” “So you use a rubber?” I asked. “No.” She replied. Now I was concerned. “Aren’t you worried about STDs?” I asked. She told me, “No.” Why the hell not?” “Because, you can’t get sick from magic.”

Sweet Sensation.

Upset Waitress — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 00:18:22 +0000

I was online trading photos with others pervs when I came across some chatter on yahoo. It was a man that wanted me to witness his cake farting. Yes, cake farting. He went on to tell me how he baked a cake and has it cooling off on the counter. He just can’t wait to put icing on it. Special icing he said. Anyway, he turned on his live cam only for me to witness his sweet fetish. It was the single most disgusting yet hilarious thing I have seen to date. He presented a beautifully decorated layer cake. Then he and a lovely young lady drop her pants to her knees, backed up to the yummy looking treat, and began making fart bubbles in the frosting. I was laughing my ass off. I couldn’t stop laughing for two hours. After I calmed down I decided I should return the favor. I promptly baked a carrot cake with a thick butter creme frosting. I stuck a large carrot in the middle,. I turned on my web cam and began to eat beans and cabbage. When I was ready I dropped trow and sat eagerly on the carrot. Then I let one rip. I have been cleaning butter creme and cake off the wall, T.V., and cat for a week now. I can’t wait to do it again with a cheese cake.

Cruise Control Please

Upset Waitress — Sun, 21 Sep 2008 02:18:24 +0000

I just saw another piece of crap news clip about Tom Cruise’s crusade for Scientology shit, he and other brain dead morons subscribe to. So let me get this straight. Scientology is the study of idiots that believe in the ramblings of a dead lunatic. I realize that that definition could apply to almost every religion. However, there is a difference. I think. Do they pray? You might ask? They must. Otherwise Tom Cruise wouldn’t have found Katy Holmes and convinced her that he wasn’t an ignorant fuck that couldn’t act in a street performance of the Ring master. I wish he’d pray for some acting ability. I remember watching him on Oprah and thinking this is a person that should be a Wal-Mart greeter. He was like Corky on Meth. I was looking through the T.V. guide the other day and it showed that they were still showing Risky Business. The only thing more repulsive than a young Tom Cruise, is a young Tom Cruise in underwear. The only thing worse than that was having to listen to him sing. He clearly is not only brain dead, he is tone deaf as well. I suppose the best we can hope for is that the Scientologists will admit that they are a cult and off themselves by drinking Kool-Aid. This would raise the cumulative I.Q. of the world by a hundred points. I would rather look for jobs in Philadelphia than watch one of his movies. I would rather tweeze my pubes with a blow torch and cool them with sulfuric acid than listen to him sing. Frankly, I am surprised the universe hasn’t regurgitated in another big bang just knowing that that no talent fucknut was born.

Boxed Lunch.

Upset Waitress — Sat, 20 Sep 2008 00:51:42 +0000

I went to pizza hut this evening. The teenage waitress asked me for my order and I told her I wanted all the leftover stale bread and pizza slices that they were gonna throw in the trash to feed the raccoons. She said she didn’t know if she could legally give me their junk food and had to ask her manager. Meanwhile, I started to eye their really greasy, cob webbed hanging table lamp. I told her to please see what she could do. Meanwhile, I gathered all the cob webs hanging from the lamp up with my fork. It looked like angel hair pasta. I took the cheap napkin and poured ketchup on it and dipped my fork full of make believe food in it. The young girl came back just as I was about to nibble the nasty from my fork. She said that her manager wanted to know why I wanted the crap instead of ordering a pizza or something. I looked at her and said, “I am about to eat a greasy cobweb dipped in ketchup from a used napkin, because my stomach feels like my throat has been cut, and you ask me to justify my reasons to some snot nosed pothead still in high school. Tell him I am fucking hungry and poor, and if I can’t get those crusts to take home, my kid will starve for the third week in a row.” Well, the next thing I know, she is bringing me a large box filled with four pizzas, sixty bread sticks, a vat of pasta, and six two litter bottles of Pepsi. I told her I couldn’t pay for it. She said that was O.K.. It was the food that the manager was stealing for the keg party he had been on the phone planning all night. I asked her if he would notice it missing. Her answer was, “Not until he gets to the party and realizes I switched his box for the box of old pizza crusts and stale bread sticks.” We laughed, and went home and fed my family.

My Old Man Was The Head Cheerleader.

Upset Waitress — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 22:45:59 +0000

Every year for two months I am jobless. So like every year before, I applied for food stamps today. I know I will be denied, but hey, all I have is time right now. I did it out of boredom but you never know, this year might be different. They just might give a single white woman without a job who has a kid thirty dollars a month in free groceries. That won’t even buy the milk my kid drinks. Although, it may buy half a crack rock. If I can convince the kid to freebase with his pop tarts and cereal, that might be enough. If I don’t start to make some money soon, I will have to pawn my old man’s football trophies. He would be pissed. I am not sure why, since he stole them from the high school quarterback at a homecoming party last year. He says he deserves them for dressing up as the head cheerleader and dating the halfback all year, just to get invited to the party. He says they only necked twice, but he sure used a lot of lip gloss.

Just Touch It.

Upset Waitress — Sun, 14 Sep 2008 04:26:59 +0000

My old man says he won’t lick my nappy pussy. He won’t sniff it. He won’t stroke it. He won’t touch it. He says he can’t even stand to look at it. He just wants to put it out of his misery. He tried to shoot it, but I moved it as quickly as I could. So he missed. Then he tried to stomp on it. Again I was too fast for him. All of a sudden there was a pungent oder. He threw a cup of gasoline at it while striking a match. I covered my pussy with a wet wash cloth just as the match fell on to it. “That is just wrong.” I said. I went back to watching my soaps thinking he had gotten it out of his system. Suddenly, there was fog descending toward my pussy. I could see the roaches start to go belly up. He was spraying Raid at my poor used up pussy. I fashioned a gas mask out of a Dixie cup and placed it on my pussy and evacuated it to the driveway. Now its’ hair is falling out. I bet he’ll touch it then. I know how much he likes a bald pussy. For some odd reason, he still thinks the small worthless demonic beast needed to be destroyed.

Over My Dead Body.

Upset Waitress — Fri, 12 Sep 2008 20:26:19 +0000

Yippee my “mother-in-bitch” died. She was stirring up a big batch of “shut the fuck up soup” that fell off the stove and broke her neck on the cauldron. So I asked my old man what he was going to do about his mothers funeral. He said he wasn’t going to have a funeral. He is going to cremate her. As a matter of fact, he said after I die he’s going to cremate me too. When I asked him why he would do that, he said he’s going to take my ashes and stuff them in a blow up doll.

Then he started making gestures as if to be air fucking an invisible person saying things like “Does that ceiling still need paint? No! I’m not done yet. I came in your pussy and there is nothing you can do about it. Wow! This is the most you’ve moved in years. Why couldn’t you have been this good when you were alive? I’m not wiping that off.” Then he got rude. He was licking the air and touching his ass. I didn’t want to tell him, but I was so turned on I stormed out the door and went and got me a real dick. When I got home I yelled at him and demanded an apology. He muttered something under his breath, so I smacked him. He immediately got me a beer and went back to watching T.V.. I said, “Your not getting out of it that easy.” I would crap on him if I didn’t think he would like it.

Applaud Palin For Keeping The…Whatever It May Be.

Upset Waitress — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 01:13:31 +0000

So I’m out here listening to the radio while hurricane Ike wreaks havoc on my tent, and the radio told me that Sarah Palins teenage daughter, Bristol, is knocked up. Unfortunately for Bristol, abortion wasn’t an option. That is why her mother has a child with down syndrome to begin with. I guess if everyone believed in abortions the Walmart greeters wouldn’t even exist, and I just couldn’t live without being greeted by a complete tard while entering my favorite store. Anyway, Bristol being the daughter of a political figure could turn this whole teenage pregnancy thing around and use it to set an example for all the other trampy teens out there. While holding her Barbie doll, she could travel the country doing speeches, complete with black eyes, a few missing teeth, and patches of hair torn from her scalp, explaining how her mother beat the living shit out of her for being a slut. She could also visit all the high schools telling other teens that they REALLY SHOULD use birth control or condoms if they’re sexually active. She could even set up an exhibit displaying the proper way to give out blow jobs as an alternative form of getting knocked up because gawd knows she wouldn’t be a good candidate for diet pill reviews. After all this she could give birth naturally, live on MSNBC. That way we could all see her stretched out, used up, nappy, stinky, droopy, drippy, knee touching, wore out, pussy. End of rant!

Still Roughing It.

Upset Waitress — Tue, 02 Sep 2008 17:16:24 +0000

Living in a tent and liking to read, It becomes evident how important the proper lighting is. I find that reading by the feeble light from a flickering candle becomes torturous. This must have been the reason for the invention of eye glasses. Then I tried to read by the glow of an oil lamp. Sure the light was better and more constant, but I was overcome by fumes and began to feel sick. It could be the reading material, but I’m convinced it is the fumes. Then I moved on to the flashlight I had brought with me to find my poo bucket at night. However, by the third chapter I didn’t have enough light to see my book and had to wait until morning to take a dump. I think I will just move back home and ask my old man to give another chance. At least I can get some reading done and maybe some laundry. Damn my socks stink.

When It Sucks To Be Me.

Upset Waitress — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 22:55:29 +0000

Lookie at my new pad. Isn’t it nice? This too is a gift. A tent that my ex found for sale. It’s like a portable closet. First off I fricking hate sleeping outside of my trailer. I enjoy light switches and microwaves too much. The dirt in my food isn’t so bad but the lumpy sleeping conditions suck it big time. I was so uncomfortable getting laid on the ground all night with a bunch of animals around. Yea I had my chickens and cats with me too because they were tossed out on their asses with me. They each crapped out an egg a piece for my dinner though. Of course I had no stove to cook the eggs on. So I cut one of my beer cans in half, put the two eggs in and held a lighter under the bottom. Living off of booze sure has become handy. Anyway, to hone my skills at burning things I decided to make a campfire. I just held my lighter to and old greasy tire that I soaked with Bacardi 151 ’til it went ablaze. It is still burning today. Damn I’m a good fire starter. Later I’m going to have a tent warming party with some of my friends. I hope they don’t mind crapping in a bucket. I don’t have a toilet, and since I no longer have an address, I told them to just follow the black smoke to my site. I wonder if the old man cares that I’m living in the empty parking space across the street from the house. He keeps bitching at me for taking the stereo out on the porch and running the speaker out to my tent. I think tomorrow I’ll grab his t.v. and satellite dish.

He Can Kiss My Ass.

Upset Waitress — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 01:13:19 +0000

Anyway, I guess I’m moving out. The old man and I came to an agreement that I must be faithful to him only or else I would have to pack my bags. Well you know me, I’m just not going to have that. I told my old man that as soon as I get luggage big enough to hold my sex toys I would be outta here. He offered to buy me all the luggage I needed to get the hell out. I thought that was very thoughtful of him. Then I told him to buy me some cool luggage that would elude to the nature of it’s contents that would last forever and use over and over again. Look at what he bought on sale for me.

It’s all ballerina like, and it’s my least favorite color. Pink! You can tell he was really thinking about me. This bag might fit a box of tampons, a pack of cigarettes, and an airplane bottle of booze. I fail to see what little women in tutus have to do with sex toys. Not one of them looks like they are having an orgasm. Sure they look like they are having fun, but not that much fun. For all it’s faults the bag seems sturdy enough. It just won’t hold my industrial jackhammer powered Brad Pitt blow up doll, or my Super Hoover nipple suckinator. It is a little confusing. Does he want me to leave or not? I don’t think he will miss me as much as my leather love cuffs and matching pubic hair puller. Nothing says I love you like the slow intense ripping of genital hair. The only thing I think I will miss about him is being able to squash his will to live. Judging by the inadequate baggage he gave me to move my things, I think he is pissed. I don’t care. I get to have my fun, and if he doesn’t like it he can steal my Paris Hilton I’m a dirty slut doll. When you pull the string on it’s back she says “Thats hot”, and vomits the beer he has to poor in her in order to get her drunk enough to want him.

Decision Time.

Upset Waitress — Sun, 24 Aug 2008 18:41:46 +0000

Last night I tried to ignore my old man so that I didn’t have to listen to him bitch about me leaving him and my crying son in the driveway as I got into a cab with another man. However, I think I heard him give me an ultimatum as I was trying to make some Las Vegas travel plans. He said that I could either do what he tells me to do from now on or get out. He wants me to quit drinking, go back to my therapist, come straight home after work, quit working on Tuesday and Wednesday, because it interferes with the job he had before I started working on those days, stop hanging out with other guys, be honest, and treat my family with the respect they deserve. I don’t know. Doing all that seems like an awful lot of trouble. Besides I like drinking and hanging out with other men. At least they don’t nag me about my behavior, or tell me to be quite because the kid is asleep. I hate ultimatums. They usually mean I have to make a serious decision.

On A Bender.

Upset Waitress — Sat, 23 Aug 2008 20:30:41 +0000

Seriously, I JUST now got home. It was like I took two days of luxury vacations under a bridge or something. My old man is livid of course. I only fell twice and was kicked out of just one bar in total. The cops were only called on me once. I lost my shoes and a pair of britches. Somehow I ended up in someone else’s bathing suit and have some extra jewelry too. I all but destroyed the simple family life that everyone in the world strives to obtain. My old man keeps asking me to get help of a professional manner. I started seeing a therapist, but I gave up when he wanted to fix me. I wish I could just do the right thing without having to admit I have a problem. However, the world won’t let me. Sometimes I think it would be easier for me just to run off and act a fool, because it seems to hard to do what is right. It is what it is though.

Wind For Sale.

Upset Waitress — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 16:58:39 +0000

I’m putting jars of hurricane wind on sale. This is the best idea I’ve ever had so far and will possibly get me out of the restaurant biz. You will have to be careful opening up the jars though because the wind will blow your mind, which I will disclose on my auction listing. I have been harvesting the wind in Ball mason jars which are cheap, all morning and let me tell you, it’s not easy work. It’s hard to separate hurricane wind from simple sea breeze. It takes a keen eye. This time I think e-bay will be okay with the listing. Not like last time when I tried to sell a bottomless pit. It seems like every time I list something it gets reported and they close my auction. WTF I can’t do business like that.

Anyway I’m going to give ebay one more chance to let me make money from their site. I am still mad about them shutting my sale of the bottomless pit. The Army corps of engineers had placed a sizable bid. It’s probably just as well that I couldn’t sell it, because I would have had the damnedest time moving it. I use to keep it in the front yard, but I lost a mail man, paper boy, and a girl scout. I have been slowly moving it to the backyard but for some reason I don’t think I’ll ever get it there. The fricking thing goes on forever.

Jesus Crist.

Upset Waitress — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 14:47:59 +0000

Governor Crist just came on the TV and told us that we are all gonna die if we go outside of our house. He said there will be down powerlines and we will fry like a death row inmate. He said we shouldn’t be driving either because we are likely to mistake a canal for a road. Do they have a special place that will give a car insurance online quote for stupid people? Is so, could someone give this information to Governor Crist? Also, Crist said that it will get a little windy. I believe this because he is always flapping his gums and expelling liberally his conservative hot air. The end.