so it goes...

there isnt a way to start this that isnt somehow cliche, though i have been internet writing for years, this is the first proper blog, and first proper blog entry...9 months ago i turned 30. in an unattractive blackout involving a marc jacobs blouse and sophia champagne, i drowned my unfabulousness and told everyone i knew i hated their guts. 4 months ago i quit my job, my demeaning desk job at a 3rd ranked ivy league college...thus giving up my benefits and my family's ability to feel that my arts education did me some good. i quit my job for a gig at a bar. thats right, one drunken night i asked a friendly bartender if they were hiring because i hated my fucking job and really wanted a change and did some catering jobs awhile back...so now, here i am...pushing 31 and learning how to make martinis. ( i'm a bit frightened by the use of vermouth, i must admit. olives...i can just never seem to get them out of the jar without dumping out all the juice..) i have always been a beer drinker. high life and pabst blue ribbon, so i am constantly avoiding anyone who looks like thay may require me to shake or stir. i may suck at it, but the thing is...i am trying, i love it, for the first time in my quasi-adult-life my job is fun...i chase crackheads and narrowly stop myself from "accidently" dumping sweet tea in lunchers laps...i smile like i mean it and always remember your name, or at least what you are drinking. i guess all the time i have spent in rock clubs and bars during my 5 year tenure in the indierock stranglehold of raleigh-durham-chapel hill, nc somehow should have prepared me for life placing plates in front of people. getting those refills out before my tip dwindles below 20%....