Ryan

My name is Ryan. I am a 25 year old male from Kentucky. My mother died when I was 14 and my father was a wealthy unloving father who raised me harshly. I got into the drug game early ( heroine addict) and became a hit man with 20-30 heads under my belt for a big drug dealer. I gave it all up for christianity but after someone at my church spoke down to my bisexual sister about her sexuality I gave up religion and went back to school for business.

When my mother passed away I started to chat with Nicole online. What my father lacked in warmth and comfort, she was able to fill in. After a few months we shifted to aim and then telephone conversations. Now after 5-7 years of communication, a few visits from my sister Shayla in place of me, and no physical meetings from myself Nicole is fed up and wishes to meet me or else communication will cease as she has confessed her love for me and "must" see me.

Unfortunately I am a woman and Ryan is merely a character I have created for various reasons. Nicole helped me through my struggles in life as my family has encountered detrimental turmoil. I am faced with quite a dilemma as my online friend is tired of waiting to finally meet me and threatening to end communications so I must find a Ryan in real life. Someone who can fit the role of reformed bad boy, educated, and handsome. I will post an ad on craigslist and find this man.

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As I was scanning through the craigslist ads as I do every hour or so throughout my day I came across a post seeking a handsome young male actor. I clicked the link and read a post with very general details which instructed those who fit the criteria listed on the page to inquire via email for further information. Instinctively I emailed immediately and gave a brief introductory statement of myself and included my model mayhem (model portfolio website) web address for the poster of the ad to see what I looked like.

Shortly after I had sent the message my phone vibrated and I was notified of a new message. Whenever my phone vibrates it could be 5 things; low battery, a phone call, an alarm, a new text, or a new email. The cause of this buzzing was the aftermath of my catching "Ryans" creators attention with my email. After numerous detailed emails back and forth I was briefed on the assignment, whom I would be acting as, and what I would be required to do. Needless to say I accepted the offer and we went into stage two of planning a date and time.

Two weeks later on Friday September, 17th I woke up and made a very tasty broccoli mozzarella and parmesean cheese omelet and washed it down with a few strawberries. I went to the gym where I ellipticalled my way to a heart rate of 175 for ten minutes and then proceeded to work out for 2 more hours. Afterwards I ordered a spinach salad with avacados, broccoli, black beans, croutons, corn, tomatoes, carrots, steamed spinach, cauliflower, cucumbers, and a balsamic vinaigrette then headed for the subway. In the 6 or so stops it took to get from Wall street to Grand central I had consumed my monster salad (was a good way to keep my thoughts from roaming into potential negative outcome scenarios for the immediate future). I departed the subway and made my way for the train ticket acquisition area. My ticket was purchased and I was on my way North to meet the mastermind behind "Ryan".

I made it to White Plains, NY earlier than anticipated and decided to call my father. I always inform him of my wild endeavors so I figured why not continue the tradition and fill him in on this one. His uneasy tone was easily translated into concern and disapproval. He simply asked me to put myself in the shoes of the woman whom Ryan is in love with. "You're fucking with her and the woman who created this character is an asshole". He continued to say that what I was doing is fraud and it just doesn't have a good vibe. I told him that I loved him and sincerely appreciated his concern but that I was to carry through with my unprecedented task at hand.

We hung up and I sat on the bench waiting for my new boss to arrive, contemplating. I had to stay optimistic and confident or else my performance would be with distraction and perhaps my cover would be blown. I tried to think of how this chick who created the male figure could use me to acquire some financial benefit from the woman online and as I was unsuccessfully brainstorming I received another discouraging text from my father.

With a message similar to what he had said on the phone, my father made his final plea for me to abort mission. I replied back explaining that both these women found comfort from the other and that I was merely a catalyst to their depressing (to a third party) relief from the real world.I continued by saying, "its like people who believe in and get comfort from god. A priest provides them with the story and makes everything flow. I'm just like a fucked up (actor) priest." His response was short, "I love you".

Ryans sisters name is Shayla so we will call my boss Shayla. She pulls up in a late model 5 series (bmw) and parks the car in an adjacent garage to the station. When she emerged from the concrete structure her dirty blond hair and short curvy figure matched with a cautious yet glowing face allowed my worries of this all being a staged production to have me arrested or murdered from persons in my past had disappeared. We awkwardly said hello and spent a good 5 minutes trying to find her car that she had just parked a second ago: clear sign she was nervous or a true blond.

As we searched the interrogative dialogue began and I asked her straight off the bat what her benefit and goal for the day was. I could tell she was an intelligent girl because she kept things vague until I would press harder and even then, I'm sure I truly only know half of the actual story's details. We found the car, a navy blue 1995 5 series with new emblems and a worn leather interior; certainly a car to be comfortable in. What was most obvious that this creative girl was who she said she was was the Kentucky license plate. We got in the car and started our journey to Connecticut.

After all the necessary questions were asked from my end and Shayla filled me in on everything that I needed to know we began to chat as if we had been friends for a while. We spoke about current events from our lives, listened to music, and laughed. It was oddly comfortable. I'm not sure whether I was genuinely enjoying her company or subconsciously trying to distract myself from the blatant reality that I was soon going to be acting as if I were in love with a random unattractive woman I knew nothing about as well as play the role of Shaylas brother. Either way, I enjoyed the ride.

We exited the highway and Shayla told me that we were going to get Nicole flowers. She said if we can keep her awe struck that you're actually here, her knight in shining armor, then she will not inquire on any of the details discussed between each other over the many years of chatting I would have been responsible for knowing. Thus the flowers, my gentlemanly ways, and my handsome features. Clearly this girl had contemplated this over and over to assure no room for failure highlighting her love for this woman named Nicole.

Shayla was not the best driver despite her telling me of her love for speed. After she nearly killed us three times with potential accidents, she figured shed see how I drove. It made sense since this was Ryans car and Nicole may find it odd that his sister was driving him around. But let's face it, this whole fucking thing is pretty odd so I'm sure it wouldn't have phased Nicole.

I get in the car, adjust my mirrors, and take a deep breath. I was about to drive to meet a person who was madly in love with me, give her flowers, and pretend that I; knew her, loved her, and was actually attracted to the short ugly and fat person that she was. This is certainly not the craziest thing I had ever done but it ranked among the top ten. I pulled out of the flower shops parking lot and a minute later I was face to face with Nicole.

In Shaylas informative lecture as to whom Ryan was on our ride to this point, I asked her of any pet names I should call her. "Princess" was what I was to call Nicole so when I first saw her I gave her the flowers and said "hello princess its so good to finally see you". We were to go to a movie at 5:45 and it was just about 5 when the rendezvous occurred so I killed some time driving around. We drove past a few stores and decided to go look at shoes and puppies. The shoes sucked and there were no puppies so we drove a bit more and then went to the movies. Shayla wanted to see "Devil" and it was so bad that we ended up walking out and going to dinner early.

Bertuccis. That was where Nicole wanted to go, her special place. Earlier on the ride out Shayla asked me what I meant when I had texted her that obviously Nicole does not need much to be impressed. I was referring to the dining establishment she had picked up. I explained my theory to Shayla and she told me that she couldn't disagree with where I was coming from. As we were entering this mediocre Italian restaurant Shayla told me to tell Nicole my theory on quality of Chain restaurants.

I gave her an example to help her grasp the concept I was attempting to unleash on these ladies. If you buy a pair of pants which were mass produced in China they would in no way resemble the same quality as a pair of hand made designer pants where time and precision was allotted freely to ensure the highest quality. I'm not saying you can't get a tasty meal at a chain restaurant but I am saying that chances are at least where I live, that if you go out to a non chain place to eat you're going to get some stellar dishes. Nicole awkwardly agreed as we entered the over rated bertuccis.

The hostess asked me how many and what name. I was getting comfortable with my character and ALMOST said that my name was Randall. "Ryan for 3 please". We were seated almost immediately and I sought refuge in the restroom for a few to catch up on my missed calls and unread messages. I returned to the table and Nicole went to the toilet. Shayla complimented and thanked me for my performance and asked if I had enough cash for dinner (which she supplied beforehand). I did not so we went out to the car to get some more cash.

We returned and the fat girl had her place set on the table with a vacant spot to her side. I took the hint that that was my sign to sit next to her so I slid in and tried not to look at her. The role I was playing was that of one who was picky with what he selected which to me was a bit of an oxymoron seeing how the aesthetic of Nicole was so horrid. I pretended to be overwhelmed with the menu and asked my Princess what she thought I should select. She said that I was so picky she had no idea. I wanted to get the steak and chicken combo as this wasn't my dime covering dinner but I stayed in character and opted for the lasagna.

Shayla got ravioli and Nicole a salad then a depressing conversation took place. I asked why Nicole had only eaten a small portion of her salad and she explained to me how she hadn't eaten in 3 days and how anything she ate was going to upset her stomach. When Shayla asked her why she would go and do a silly thing like not eat Nicoles response though simple, almost made me feel bad for doing what I was doing. She said she was trying to fit into the shirt that she was wearing. She knows she's fat and really tried to look good for the unreal character she's in love with. I almost felt bad. Fortunately she ordered some sangria and the thought of getting a little buzz erased any contemplations of how wrong this whole scenario was.

This created an immediate worry though. Ordering alcohol generally coincides with showing identification. I thought that if I took out my ID Nicole would ask to see my photo. As she ordered the caraff of alcohol I announced that I needed to go out to the car and as I was getting up the waitress asked if we wanted anything else to drink. I sat back down and thanked the waitress for her offer but declined then told Nicole that I didn't need to go outside anymore. Puzzled she gave me a questioning look and I immediately told her that I was going to put on some more make up but that I decided not to. The topic was dropped right there.

With Nicole being the only one content with her meal I hailed the waitress over. She asked how everything was and I pointed to Shaylas dish and told the waitress to "throw that away, wrap up my lasagna, and do whatever she (Nicole) wants with her dish). The waitress was shocked and asked if Shayla did not like her dish, in a careless tone my sister said that it was disgusting and I jumped in and said the only reason I want my lasagna to go is so I can feed my dogs as they will eat any shit I give them. This was all part of a sick game. Emphasizing that Nicole not only picked a shitty restaurant but that her two "dates" who drove 13 hours to see her were disgusted with their meals. Brutal!

We drove back to Nicoles car and I apologized for the let down of the movie and dinner. Nicole said it was fine and that it was amazing and special that I came to see her. I told her that I'd do everything I could to come back to see her asap and that it made me so happy to see her after all these years of waiting and that she was certainly worth the wait. I think at that moment I threw up in my mouth but that's besides the point. It was LOVE.

Shayla and I drove back to the train station and she kept telling me how happy she was and that I did great. Also, she offered that if I were interested in this situation again that she'd be happy to pay for my services. I'll have to think long and hard about the possibility of a next time. This Nicole girl is nothing I'd like to make regular in my life though living in NY is expensive and that shit just paid my rent!

Gotta Love Catering

So when modeling is slow catering takes over, I think any struggling model or model with slow work can relate. Tonight I worked an event at Bloomingdales where we served a few dishes, tastings rather with samples of various wines. There was a crew of 5 with one captain and each of the non captains were assigned 2 tables.

The evening was slowly paced and very manageable. At the conclusion of the sampling each guest was presented with a gift bag. The head chef who was answering questions with the owner of the wine company who provided the wine for sampling had provided $50 gift cards to his restaurant. Each guest received their bag and there was a plethora of surplus so we were given the OK to take a bag for ourselves.

Once we had cleaned up the entire area and put everything in its designated place and departed the desolate store. Three of us posted up outside and an additional two came out. A few lit their cigarettes and I waited patiently as the idea of using our gift cards to purchase drinks was presented. It was brilliant.

A classy, dimly lit, italian establishment cautiously allowed us entrance. We walked in and my two fellow employees allowed me to break the ice and see if the bartender would allow the gift card to permit us a few beverages. We were granted the privilege and proceeded to order the most expensive cocktails we could look up on the menu. Our fellow on the right had to depart due to an obligation to report to the lower east side for a DJ gig and had his cocktail and left us with a $10 bill for our tip. Myself and the other "partner" had two cocktails and conversed for about an hour.

Apparently I was working with a private military weapons trainer who learned his knife fighting skills in taiwan and turned that into a career training military personnel here in the states. He was also from the south where his ex navy seal father showed him a thing or two on weapons. We chatted mainly on fitness and I picked up some great new perspective to achieving my fitness goal. Balance Protein, Carbs, and good fats. Also when attempting to lose fat deduct your age from 220 and that is where you will burn the most fat. He said its not easy but even doing it for 10-15 seconds will get your body zapped in the right direction. Lastly, I ask him how to get the highly desired V. He said to hang from a pull up bar, lift your legs parallel to the ground, and do your pull ups.

I start my new training tomorrow before I attempt my most unique acting feat yet, more to come.

Brutal

I haven't seen the inside of the lincoln center mercedes benz fashion week tents yet. I consider this season an absolute failure. The number of castings I went to was between 15 and 25. My days before this week were busy and anxiety stricken. Now I know I was not selected so a new wave of anxious worries drifts into place.

I walked in one show and had a bad day so I missed my second booked show. The third show I was confirmed for, I called the day before the show to confirm timing and they said I was too euro/skinny/high fashion AKA they fucked up at the casting and when the designer saw me at his fitting he said no. These weeks have passed and I feel that I've given my heart to a goal which in the present has gotten me no where. Feelings of failure, disappointment, and fatigue have set in.

I have realized the significance of energies and patterns. A few days ago I was hustled into a -$20 bank balance. I was walking past two guys early in the morning. They went to both of my sides rather than pairing up while passing me. As they passed, the man to my right hit my shoulder and a conflict was the outcome to this impact.

As we made contact he dropped the bag that was in his hand. I looked back merely because I heard a loud noise: my head phones were on at full volume so you can tell I was unable to hear noises beyond the headphones. The man runs up to me and says "Yo you broke my bottle of whiskey". I told him that I was sorry but he bumped into me and dropped his shit.

I could smell the booze on his breath and he was swaying back and forth so I knew he was already drunk and there was no chance to reason with him. I took out my wallet and showed him that I only had two dollars and said that I was broke. He went on some rant how he was not playing games and that if I didn't pay him wed settle this here. He put his hands up and got in my face like someone getting ready to fight and his partner was slowly walking towards me.

First thing I thought was that I could definitely smash him in the face and out run him. But then I thought responsibly and said to myself no. This is a block from where I live and I cannot start a war. I bit the bullet and with his recommendation/command we went to the atm and I withdrew $20. It was a really shitty situation.

With my lack of shows and this bad energy around me I'm worried that these are signs. Perhaps it is a test to see if I will quit. The truth is always out of sight it seems. To make things worse I now have a cold and haven't been able to sleep which prevents me from looking presentable. What to do? What to do?!

Carry on...tomorrow is another day.

September 6th

The Monday before fashion week and I've only got one casting, compliments of the agency. Something is really fucked up with that. I woke up late and had a leisurely morning. The casting was from 10 am to 4 pm where I could arrive anytime in between and I got there at about 2pm. After waiting 45 minutes and battling the urge to urinate all over my fellow models due to the large water and shot of vodka I had consumed on the train ride to the casting I was finally seen.

As I've said before, when the casting directors don't like what they see the models get an automatic "Thank you". Perhaps I've been fortunate enough to have been spared the embarrassment of being laughed at or cruelly turned down but today I saw Michael Bastian. When I entered the doorway I could see some models walk with clothes and some in underwear...I quickly learned that if you were walking in underwear then the designer and casting team approved your clothed walk and wanted to see more.

I entered the studio and warmly shook all the hands that I could as I introduced myself. They reviewed my book and asked me to walk. I did my walk and when I returned the designer had a look on his face with raised eye brows which I could not interpret. He asked me to pull my hair back and said to his colleagues something in regards to my look having army or military qualities. I was then asked to strip down to my underwear and walk. I did as I was told and they continued the selection process where they photographed me a few times and allowed me to go.

I left feeling a bit content and somewhat cocky. Shit, I probably won't get the show but I felt as if through the designers reaction I already acquired the confidence one would get after walking such a notorious show. Perhaps this is the answer...Do work and see the results and you will be happy. Perhaps happiness is easy to come upon for others and challenging as fuck for myself. It is what it is and so I move on.

The pretty girl that I call my own texted me the information of a casting that she had gone to earlier where both male and female models were present. I headed to the location after my first casting of the day. My routine is to go to any casting with my BOSS book as well as with my neutral black book to house my modeling photos. Though boss had not sent me to this casting, I decided to use the book in hopes that the name could be used to my advantage.

I used a photo that was not necessary for my book and wrote all the relevant information that a casting director would need on the back. When I arrived I signed in and awaited my name to be called. I was called and the casting crew looked at my book and kept staring at me. They took my makeshift comp card and said thank you. THE DEADLY "THANK YOU" was burdened upon my ears though they confirmed that it was ok for them to take my comp card. A truly confusing and hard to interpret response to viewing me as their model. So I thanked them kindly and departed from the tension filled room.

About a week or two ago I had shot with the bamboo t shirt designer and had not signed a model release. He had emailed me requesting that I join him at a bbq to sign the model release and consume a burger, hot dog, or alcoholic beverage. Since I was not obligated to any significant events in my schedule I opted to take him up on the offer and traveled north to West 105th Street.

We met in the streets and he was with one of his gay friends. We walked to the townhouse where the barbecue was being hosted at and entered the residence. In the back there was a small area outside where the lesbian host had tables and chairs along with a barbecue. The snacks consisted of hummus and crackers, sun chips, and garlic bagel chips with some sort of garlic and spinach dip-WOW.

I thought that shit was good enough and then we were treated with burgers, hot dogs, AND grilled veggies. This was a true delight; lounging in the upper west side, BBQing, and drinking with complete strangers. I love modeling in the sense that I am always subjected to unpredictable extravagant ventures such as this. The funny thing is that I was summoned to this event merely to sign a model release and on exchange I was wined and dined. Lovely.

FW Castings

Castings for fashion week shows have been sporadically happening over the past few days. Before this week I had thought that it was difficult to plan work around my few castings but now I see how that was merely a watered down preview for fashion week. I've had to cancel numerous paid jobs for "big" castings and its a challenge because I've got to survive in the moment through catering and promotional work but the more shows I do, I am in a better position for success in the long run. Baa Hum Bug.

The castings have been going well so far minus waiting in the long lines to be seen. I try to study the other guys when they walk and see who the casting persons are sending away before even being allowed to walk due to their look so I can figure out what the designer wants before I strut my stuff. I've yet to be turned down before walking and have received positive feedback from the casting directors though no definite bookings as of now but one and it isn't even a menswear show.

I continue to struggle with accepting my agency. There were numerous designers that I was not sent the casting info for and the agency's reasoning, my book is not strong enough. I am still a newbie to the NY scene, yes but with the castings having hundreds of models why can't they just add me to the mix in hopes of catching someone's attention?! Perhaps there's is much to learn, perhaps I need a new agency?

My main struggle is with patience and determining the point when impatience is logical. How long do I allow my agency to hold onto me while I am discontent with their efforts? How long do I give modeling before I determine whether or not it is destined to be? How long before I get so tired of NY I simply pick up my belongings and move on?

I was walking in the lower east side this morning and acknowledged that the newness of the city which instigated awe and the feeling of being content in this city has worn off. I've acquired my geographical fix and now that I've adapted am stuck to face my personal issues of what will bring me happiness. I saw someone driving a younger VW Golf and it reminded me of my care free days of when I had my own 2002 GTI.

I could party well after the sun had risen, blow off work to chill all day, and travel where ever I had desired with whomever I chose and yet always thought of what life would be like in tibet, costa rica, or the military. I had achieved a scenario where money was no worry and I had the people I thought I had wanted around me present and yet always sought more. Is that my American Culture and I'm just being greedy or is it my human nature to bypass the fake or materialistic amenities of life and search for depth and true happiness?

No matter where the solution to my worries may lay, I must push on and endure the constant temptation to fuck it all. I am dabbling with a field in modeling I never would have fathomed being part of and am constantly venturing into unknown territory. When I was younger I could turn to others for guidance or advice and now I feel as if I must be the one to answer the questions even when my optimism fades and negativity takes hold. The key to my success is being able to acknowledge this, remove my thoughts from the present moment, and hit a refresh button. Perhaps that is what this so called blog is for.

August 28th

I go to the gym everyday and spend hours of hard work for a goal of which I cannot say my heart is 100% set on. Laziness is something that I am guilty of daily though not in the physical sense but in the psychological sense. I don't know what makes me happy and yet what effort do I put forth to contemplate what will make me happy, the answer is not clear. I wish I knew. All I can say is that everyday I work to get closer to my goal I don't feel any better, what is the point to work so hard just to one day die? What happens when you die, does the aftermath of death make all the struggles in life worth the wait or do you realize how important the little things you had and enjoyed were and the point of which life concludes you become nothing. How can one say that they truly are something? You don't know...tell me anything that is a "truth" and explain to me how you or whomever you believe to be so knowledgeable has such a supremacy in the universe that they are correct...even a simple equation such as one plus one. Tell me that that is a definite. There are no definites besides the one absolute in life that one day (or night) your body will stop working for whatever reason and the greatest questions of my life will be answered. What happens after death? I do not fear death though I do fear that when the time comes, I may look back and regret...Alas I carry on in hopes that one day I will grasp happiness and live a fulfilling life. So I strive to fill my schedule to partake in the process of elimination (in regards to what doesn't make me smile or feel as if I am happy) and to be productive.

I woke up just early enough to have my oatmeal, pack my clothes for the day, and take the train (ALL LOCAL STOPS ON WEEKENDS) all in perfect timing to walk into my gym 2 minutes past opening. I did my work out, showered, shaved and took the train to Union Square where I walked two avenues west to catch the F train which took 20 minutes to arrive and then got off at my old residence where the hostel used to be located. I met a man there to try on three shirts he made for a photo shoot tomorrow...they were made from bamboo, softer than egyptian cotton. He was satisfied with the fit and told me of the details for our shoot.

Being near the old hostel location definitely bums me out. I get the feeling of when I was younger and would fall in love so quickly and then in the same time I had fallen for a girl the same time I would have a broken heart. My time at the hostel was brief but it had such an impact on me; the people I met, my experiences in the hostel, and my experiences in the city while living in the hostel. I sincerely wish the place were still running and Collin were my boss and Hanna was still the owner and I still had my bed in the corner (next to Collin) in the back. It was simple, somewhat of a small community, and surreal. "If its too good to be true, it usually is"...NYC why do you fuck with my so badly?! I cherish those times and my interactions with the people I had there...when I think more deeply, I cherish the emotion I felt when I was there. Perhaps it was because I was so new to NYC or perhaps it truly was a magical place, it felt like a whole new world-must be a combination.

I was unable to linger as I had to head to Brooklyn to pose nude for an art class. I arrived to my artists studio, filled my water bottle, and undressed myself. Today was 3 hours of holding a pose for 20 minutes and then breaking for 4 minutes and continuing this pattern until 3 hours had found its way past our start. This session differed from the last as before I was changing my pose very often but this time was forced to hold the same pose so as the timer reached our first 20 minute marker, the head artist used tape to mark my hands and feet so I could get back into place. While I was seated, there was a twist in my back and to be sitting in a turning position for virtually 3 hours is not easy.

I tried to determine whether this was easier work than catering or moving. You do have quite a bit of time just to think, shame how the struggle to stay in pose hinders my ability to fathom methods towards happiness. The aforementioned lines of work require physical stamina but this motionless 3 hours of employment requires stamina of the psyche.

Once you get over the fact that you're naked in front of a bunch of strangers you acknowledge the difficulty of staying still and in pose for basically 3 hours. I try to see who is staring at me, my body, or my cock...peek at their drawing papers as their heads drop to add the next line of my recreation on paper...and attempt to profile the people. There is no other point for the profiling other than to kill time. 3 hours came and went and I was off to fifth avenue for a night of catering at a wedding.

Earlier in the week I had an "open call" for a catering company based in the upper west side. I lied at the group interview and said that I had heard about the gathering last minute which is why I came with no resume nor head shot when in reality I knew that I did not need them. If an employer is truly seeking staff for a job which requires no true skill then they will hire me. The interviewer asked everyone what they do and what their experience in the service field involved and when she got to me she wrote all my info down on the back of the "actor" next to mes resume-brutal. Needless to say, later that day I got a call from the woman saying "so we're skipping the next step of the interview process and we'd like to see if you are available to work Saturday night". Of course the offer was accepted and I was officially hired by yet another caterer.

This event was for some spoiled bitch who was marrying some unfortunate wall street looking type. I was fortunate enough to arrive after the entire place was set up so all that I was required to do was serve and assist with the break down. The location was pretty nice, right on fifth avenue and on the 12th floor (roof top). The bride freaked out because her husband saw her while he was headed to the roof and I just wanted to slap her in the face and tell her that she didn't need to worry about that nonsense of not being able to see this and that as that will cause bad luck because she was already a bitch and would obviously push him to alcoholism if his job didn't first. She was pretty tame the rest of the night, the guests at my assigned table however were not.

Before I could pour the first glass of wine they spilled a glass of water so obviously with the wine present there was not an inch on my table to be unmoistened. I was beyond pleasant and helpful until I went to take the plate from a woman finished with her meal and she grabbed my wrist and barked at me telling me that I don't take a plate until everyone is finished. Bitch is lucky she didn't lose her dentures and please if your tits sag to your belly button don't wear a fuckin low cut dress.

The party faded out around midnight and with breakdown we were out by 12:45am. With trains running local I was unable to make it home any sooner than 2am. The new employer was OK. They made sure we were fed and taken care of though lacked direction in the busy times. I'll give them another chance. It was certainly a long day.