It's Good to be Back

When I got back to work this weekend I was in the best sort of mood.  The type of mood that can only be achieved after three weeks on a fabulous European vacation where you almost totally forget the meaning of the word "responsibility."  It is a well-documented phenomenon at Hooters that one of the best ways to be a better Hooters Girl is to not be a Hooters Girl for a while.  It's a foolproof method of improving one's ability to be Hooterific.

Yes, I was happy to be at work.  It was probably halfway through my Saturday shift that I realized how incredibly lucky that makes me.  I mean how many people go on vacation, come home and actually look forward to going to work?  I have an inkling that doesn't happen to everyone.  Actually I think most people go into a fit of depression on returning to their desk or cash register or heavy machinery.  Don't get me wrong, there are days I hate my job after dealing with yet another snobby douche that believes my whole purpose is to shower them with ranch dressing and endless refills for a fat 10% tip, but mostly I love what I do.  That shit even surprises me sometimes.

Realizing how much I liked being back at work led me to acknowledge that people WILL tip you better if you're genuinely in a good mood.  Believe it or not people can see through your "I'm at work and I'm going to force myself to be sugary sweet and peppy as eff" bullshit.  They will reward you being for genuine.  This was confirmed by two days of awesome tips.  Of course my good mood had little to no effect on those people who suck in general.  Nothing can increase tips from those yahoos.  Not even me serving their food on solid gold dishes and shitting diamonds.  I've come to accept that fact.

But the best part?  People actually missed me.  Managers wanted to schedule me.  Hooters Girls wanted to work with me.  And regulars wanted to be served by me.  Actually, regulars wanted to be served by me so badly some even stopped coming in until I came back to town.  My ability to be totally legit has officially been confirmed by compliments, hugs and cold hard cash.  I call that job security, my friends.

So welcome back.  This shit is on like that one Super Nintendo game with the big gorilla that wears a tie.

Welcome to AccordingtoSauce.com

Goodbye girlandguitar.blogspot.  You're now on the new and improved accordingtosauce.com!  While the old address will still bring you to the blog, this new address is just way cooler.  Humor me and use it so I can feel important.

If you're one of the totally wonderful people who links to my blog, please update your link (or at least change the name associated with the link).  Thanks again for spreading the Sauce.

Also, my contact email has changed along with the URL.  Please address all of you comments, questions and what not to Sauce@accordingtosauce.com.  

Now I'm going to bask in my officialness.  And my ability to make up words.

Yup, That Just Happened

Welcome to the the start of my changes.  Yeah, I'm excited too.

In addition to the background (which I spent entirely too much time on) and header change, I've also added several pages to better organize the blog.  This has allowed me to include a lot less crap in the right hand column.  Theoretically this should make life easier for all of you.  Or at least it'll look prettier.  Which makes me smile.

Feel free to leave any comments regarding the look and usability of my new setup.  They'd be greatly appreciated so I can make sure everything is working correctly.

Good news, Dreamy only called me a nerd seven to eight times during this - initial - reformatting.  It's only really true if he calls me that ten times.  Bullet dodged.

Oh and if you noted the the URL no longer matches the title, that will be changing too when I'm not sleep deprived.  I'm planning on a real, live, honest to goodness URL without all the blogspot stuff.

This shit is getting official.

Change is Good

So I've decided to make some changes to the ol' blog that I think you'll love.  Of course if you don't love them you can go ahead and lie to me.  I hear white lies are totally acceptable and even preferred in situations such as this.  Or if your friend has suffered a really bad sunburn or bad haircut or just looks like hell one day.  But honesty is cool too.  Whatever.  You're gonna love it.

Get ready my friends for some epic awesomeness in the days to come.  Don't worry, the content won't be changing.  Unless you count it getting more awesome - which I have a few plans for.  Anyhooters, most of the changes will be cosmetic.  Cosmetic and  AWESOME.

So if I post a little less than normal in the next week it's because I'm preparing for blog domination.  And then world domination.  One step at a time.

What Do You Want?

Recently, I've been doing a lot of thinking regarding how I can improve this blog.  It's not that I want to make vast changes, I just see the value in small - or not so small - changes that increase value.  Basically, I want to make this blog better for the people who read it.

So I've had all these ideas.  Layout changes.  Name changes.  Heading changes.  Just random crap.  And then I thought if I'm going to be making any changes I might as well ask my readers what they want.  After all I'm not the one who's looking subjectively at this blog every day.  I just write shit.

Now I open it up to you.  What change would you like to see on "Girl and Guitar?"  Seriously.  Give it to me straight.

Now lets make some presidential decisions and shit.

I did have a real reason for this picture once.

The Call Button of Duty

I have returned to the ol' U.S. of A.  My return was made most apparent in the following conversation I had in a bar bathroom:

Girl:  "Cute boots!  Where'd you get them?"

Sauce:  "Thanks!  Amsterdam, actually."

Girl:  "Hmmm.  Where's that store?"

Sauce:  "Um, it's a city.  In Europe."

Yup, I'm back in Montana for sure.  If the horse sculptures, cowboy art and single escalator at the airport didn't remind me, that conversation certainly did.  Let's have a geography lesson for my bathroom buddy.

Get some knowledge.  Credit.

Now you know.  Hopefully, somewhere out there, I've enlightened a bar patron or twelve.  I also hope I've shown that the Indian Ocean is full of old wooden ships and that Canada is populated by snowpeople (I have cousins that live there, I would know).

Now that we've had our daily dose of learning, I am ready to concentrate on going back to work on Saturday.  Of course I really mean that I am dreading putting on that uniform because I've been eating like Louis the freaking XVI for three weeks (and I haven't even been in France).  Ugh.  Other than the fear of all things nylon and Lycra, I'm actually looking forward to working.  I am obviously a glutton for punishment. 

I hope you're getting excited for my return to serving the good people of the world.  I know I'm getting excited to vent about it on the Internet.

I leave you now with proof that all service jobs are full of douches. 

Probably an accurate representation.  Credit.

There I was, enjoying the cramped comfort of seat 26A three hours into my nine-hour flight, when the lady in front of me hit the call button.  It wasn't so much that she gently pushed the button, but rather impatiently mashed the button as if the flight attendant could feel her extreme need for useless shit.  Down the aisle I noticed the nearest flight attendant filling the drink cart.  Clearly busy.  Naturally, this went unnoticed and - to get her point across - the lady decided it would be prudent to repeatedly turn the call light on and off.

After only a few moments, the flight attendant notice the flickering call light and makes her way down the isle.  She smiles down at the lady and begins to ask what she may need when she is rudely and promptly interrupted.

"Well if you're going to just STAND over there you might as well get me a Diet Coke."

Say what?!  I imagined with pleasure the dramatic eye roll I can only hope occurred as soon as that flight attendant turned her back to that bitch.  I noticed it took awhile for that Diet Coke to find it's way back to her seat.  Yes, douches are everywhere.  No orange shorts required.

Random Photos to Prove I Still Exist

I now present you with a selection of photos from my current European adventures.  This serves to simultaneous prove my existence to the world and prove my high level of awesome.  Enjoying basking in my shitty photo skills.

I celebrated my Christmas by attending the symphony.  This was held in a gorgeous concert hall that made me feel as if I should be wearing some type of gown of fineish material.  Of course rather than wearing a fabulous gown I was nearly falling asleep because I was naughty and celebrated Christmas Eve by having a drink or ten.  But for the record I actually like the symphony.  I however do not like the Dutch custom of at least five ovations after each piece.  That's not an exaggeration.

Concertgebouw, Amsterdam

Here I've thrown in a classic Dutch photo for you.  That's pretty much all I have to say.  Well besides the fact that I didn't notice how gross the water looked in real life.

Amsterdam

This is the Rijksmuseum and it's home to lots of famous shit like Rembrandt's "Night Watch."  Of course it's actually closed for renovation so I paid €12 to see a small portion of artwork and wait in line for two hours.

Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

In addition to seeing the masters, I attended the Cobra museum which celebrates a modern art movement.  Cobra stands for Copenhagen, Brussels and Amsterdam and was basically a clique for really cool artists.

Cobra Museum, Amstelveen

This is modern art.  Or something that would be really weird if you were drunk.

Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam 

This is also modern art.  It's a collection of people's heights marked on all four walls of a room.  Somewhere in this mumbo gumbo is my name.  Yup, just a face in the crowd.

This is my Dad's hometown, Utrecht.  I'll now be obvious and point out that it was foggy. 

Utrecht

In the Dom, we lit four candles for each of my grandparents.  I - and my family - am not particularly religious, but it was a peaceful, important and needed moment.

Dom, Utrecht

We also spent the foggy day visiting with my cousins who live in a windmill.  Seriously.  My cousins live in an effing windmill.

Utrecht

Then finally it was New Year's Eve.  I'd love to tell you all about that, but I don't quite have all the holes in the story sorted out.  I did spend the holiday in Amsterdam after all.  I will however provide you with one of three pictures I took during the festitivites.  I will also point out that I was not drunk at this point.

Amsterdam

There you have it.  Photographic proof that somewhere in the world Sauce is still doing her thing.  One week left in Amsterdam.  Sigh.

1000 Followers

It seems I've finally reached 1000 followers on this little bloggity blog.  It's funny how this was some grand goal for me - and that such a goal would occur today (more on that in a minute).  No horns sounded.  There was no confetti.  But I'm still pretty proud of myself.  The thought that a blog written by me actually has a following so great is astounding and humbling to me all at the same time.  I appreciate all my readers and hope that I continue to deliver the sort of content that makes you keep coming back; I'd hate to be a disappointment.  I'd also like to say a special thank you to those few who've been with me since my humble beginnings.  Way to stick it out.

It's my next goal to get more involvement on the blog.  More questions asked.  More reader comments and stories shared.  On that note, if you have any feel free to email them to me at girlandguitar@live.com.  Seriously, do it now.

Unfortunately, this momentous personal occasion had to occur to today.  Today I sit thousands and thousands of miles from home and found out my grandpa passed away at home.  He was 95.  A prairie hardened rancher who just lost his purpose there in the nursing home.  You just can't contain a man like that within the small spaces of an assisted living facility for very long.  Perhaps, eventually, I'll write about him, attempting to capture his spirit within words and phrases.  And I'll probably fail miserably.  Right now though, I am honestly lost within the idea of him.  I don't have him.  I don't have any grandparents anymore.  And here I am so far from home.  What does one do?  I don't know.