Sunshine Girl

It’s Monday. I’m cranky. (Crankier than usual.) Thank you, City of San Diego, for that $47 treat you left on my windshield this morning because I illegally parked in the alley behind my house. Thank you, dear City, for not posting any ‘no parking’ signs anywhere in said alley. And thank you most of all, Weekend Job, for making me cocktail from noon to 11 p.m. on a Sunday so that I would be too tired to park anywhere but in that alley.

When a butterfly flaps its wings in one part of the world…

This weekend turned into quite the D List event. I am the girl who notoriously worked in L.A. for almost 2 years with nary a star sighting. Then just this weekend, I ended up going to a concert with a soap star on Saturday night, and waiting tables for a rock band on Sunday. Cosmic retribution.

Wonder who I pissed off to get me that parking ticket?

The highlight of yesterday's shift was probably this conversation between myself and the lead singer (a little-known celeb mentioned in a previous blog entry).

Rocker (handing me a wad of wrinkled 5’s and 1’s): Here, this is for you. It’s all I had left in my pocket. Thank you so much for taking care of us!

Cocktailer: Wow, thanks. So this has some lint and old bubble gum in it too?

Rocker: Hey, it’s probably a good 20 bucks in there! Plus, it was sitting next to my dick all day.

Cocktailer (swooning): Wow, maybe I’ll just auction it on Ebay then!

The band was entertaining to say the least. And it’s always nice to hear that I give ‘the best service in all of North America.’

Bionda rocks on.