You know you're a server when..

-You have an endless supply of ones, fives, etc. People always come to you to break twenties and if you're young enough, the bank assumes you're a stripper.

-Friends have a love/hate relationship with eating out in your company. Love because you can split the check and calculate the tip in the bink of an eye. Hate because you tend to say things like, 'Oh.. I wouldn't have done that." or, "No, see, she's just ringing in their food and then she's going to run get outs, don't worry!"

-Other servers/bartenders love you. If you're not an asshole, you tip well, stack the plates, and generally try to act the way you wish your customers did.

-You pretty consistently smell like onions and french fries. You attract very strange people of the opposite sex for that reason.

-Endless supply of pens. If you can't find one, you have another and you'll probably find the original later that night behind your ear or in your ponytail.

-If you've done it long enough, you develop a vice to deal with the total lack of faith you now have in humanity. Smoking, drinking, arts and crafts, what have you.

Random thoughts of the night, luckily I actually jotted them down tonight. Anything to add?

I live!

I am so, so sorry. I'm between a break-up, and school, and just general confusion.
The diner is... the same as it always is.
"What are the difference between the fried crab cakes and the broiled crab cakes?" etc.

I promise I will be a real person again soon!

Gross.

I saw a guy scratch his back with his knife last night.
I don't know if this was before, after, or during use of said knife but... gross.

So, hi, I'm still alive!