Postsecret

I religiously check Postsecret.com every Sunday.  I find something strangely intimate about sharing such personal moments with people I will never know or perhaps even reading the secret of a close friend with no realization.  I have thought about the secrets I would send in a million times and have countless designs planned out in my head.

Some Sundays however I come across a secret that perfectly encompasses a moment within my life.  Some Sundays I come across a secret so personal I could have written it myself.  Sometimes these secrets are funny little moments, sometimes they are sad, and sometimes they capture large parts of my life.  The secret below puts my life in perspective.

You lied to me so expertly for three long years.  It was painful and it killed me inside, but to this day I think it was necessary for I found my own truth.  I found a confidence that could only be gained through being torn down completely by a person I loved unquestioningly.  Your lies were my truth.

Hooters Takes the Field

It's spring time and spring means certain things.  Spring means new life, warm weather, and that summer is ever closer (all cliche things I realize). But, spring also means softball and we at Hooters are going to have our own team this year.  That's right, a plethora of sexy girls are coming to a softball field near you!

Now I'm not about to claim we'll be any good, but we do have some pretty amazing jerseys (modeled so expertly here by one of our cooks, nice balls by the way) and you can bet that we will mostly likely have a certain skill in player diversion.  Luckily, I will be able to enhance my skills of sexiness by taking batting practice - the perks of having a roommate who played college softball - because though I would describe myself as a very athletic girl my skills fall short a bit when it comes to softball.  Fortunately softball in Montana is really more about inebriation than athletic skill and winning so if I totally suck I don't have to feel so bad.

Tomorrow evening is our first game and as it's our Hooters Swimsuit Competition I'll most likely be the only girl on the field (remember I have the day off for the Showdown tomorrow afternoon).  So after I sing I'll be the only girl taking the field for the first ever Hooters softball team, which I find ironic for a team representing a restaurant staffed by women.  I'll have to work at those skills of diversion extra hard tomorrow.

The Fight

I would like to start by saying that I am probably the easiest person to get along with in the world. I literally like everyone, even the people no one else gets along with. I guess I'm just the sort of optimistic person that finds the good in everyone. There is however one person I have been unable to find that good in - my roommate.

First, I think it's important for my story today to give you a little background on our household dynamic. I live with five other roommates, yes I said five. Now what makes this this tolerable is the fact that we live in a huge house; I'm talking five bedrooms, two kitchens, three living rooms big. All of my roommates including myself have graduated college and two of them are engaged to be married this summer. There is however one outlier, we'll call her RK.

RK is a student at our local tech school and she was one of those last minute sort of roommates that you get when you need a room filled fast. Having just turned 21, RK is younger than all of the rest of the roommates and it shows. At first none of us really minded her. She was loud constantly, brought home guys a lot, and wasn't the most considerate person but we all equated this to her being young and let it be. Well after awhile it came to our attention that this girl talks about everyone and not the nice sort of talk but the sort that is so negative that half of it isn't even real. There are certain people that thrive on gossip and drama whether it pertains to them or not and RK is certainly one of those girls.

Several months later it become incredibly apparently that not only was she talking to all of us about various "friends" of her's (which I became expert at toning out) but RK was also talking to others about all of us roommates. Not only was she talking, but making things up that were incredibly hurtful. She even fed lies to us about each other, pitting us against each other when there was nothing for us to fight about in the first place. RK had gotten into everyone's heads and exerted a control I believe she loved. The way she is has nothing to do with being young but honestly being an evil, hurtful person.

Obvisouly all of this is incredibly paraphrased and censored, but the fact is that all of it came to a huge breaking point. After all of us deciding RK had to be talked to after we were told she was talking bad about us by several people I hardly even know, we sat down to have a family meeting last night. We cautiously confronted RK about her various behavior, especially her addiction to drama. Well RK didn't take this too well and became instantly defensive, simultaneously spewing lies about us while saying she's never talked about anyone ever. That's the thing with RK, I honestly believe she talks about people so much she doesn't even realize it anymore - it's that ingrained into the person she is.

We all let her talk and let it roll off of our backs and made our points known. Then she said something that cut me deeper than anything anyone has ever said to me. RK made hateful comments about my parents who she has never even met. This is when with no self-control I flew at her. I had never fought anyone until the very moment when I began dragging her back down the stairs by her hair (and that really happened). Several flying punches and bleeding noses later my roommates pulled us apart and she promptly said she was moving out which was both started and completed last night.

I find it interesting that my roommates let me get in a few punches before pulling us apart. Later they even said they have wanted to hit RK countless times. Funny that as probably the least confrontational of all us I was finally the one to do it. But as good as it felt I did feel incredibly bad. I am just not the sort of person to take things to a physically harmful level and as such I apologized to her. I told RK that I meant every word that I had said, I owned up to being frustrated and annoyed and even disliking her, but I apologized for getting physical and coming at her. She never apologized for anything. So she's moved out and honestly today I feel as if a weight has been lifted from me - we all feel like that. The drama is gone and I couldn't be happier even with a swollen face.

Oh and by the way, RK is the same roommate who talked shit about one of my fellow Hooters Girls and broke my $2000 laptop I told you about before. So here's to you RK, grow the eff up because the real world is going to kick you hard in the ass someday and it may not make you bleed like I did, but it'll hurt a lot worse - trust me

The Politics of Cuts

Believe it or not there are some days when I don't feel very "Hooteriffic".  Sometimes it's impossible to find the desire or energy to bounce to Cotton Eyed Joe, hula hoop pour without spilling your precious beer, or scream, "Hi, welcome to Hooters" in my happiest, fake, cute girl voice.  These are also the sort of shifts where I feel like I would rather be wearing a black Hefty bag than the orange Hooters shorts.  These are the sort of shifts where I want to be cut and I want to be cut early.

Just in case you don't know, being cut means you're shift is done and you get to go home.  Hooters, like most restaurants, doesn't give you a set shift end time, rather the restaurant volume dictates when you'll get to leave.  Generally our first cut is relatively early because there always seems to be way too many girls scheduled in the first place (i.e. dumb scheduling manager).  These first one or two girls are cut at around 7:00 p.m.  The next cut is usually at 9:30, followed by one at 10:30 leaving two girls to close the restaurant.

I ALWAYS close.  Usually I do not mind closing.  It not only means more money for me on that given shift, but also more shifts because I am easy to work with.  Once in a blue moon however, I too wish to be that lucky girl who gets sent home quicker than she can pull on her nylons.  Unfortunately, I am never that girl (especially on nights when I have super important things to do, like say, watch American Idol).

You see there are politics surrounding cuts and when I saw politics I mean the really dirty kind where there's a huge coverup to hide some elicit sex and gambling ring that takes place in the basement of City Hall.  Girls who want to go home early every night know how to play dirty.  There are several tactics for this.  One tactic is the ever popular, "I have homework" line.  Now I'm not saying you don't have homework, but as the only college grad at our Hooters I'm pretty sure you don't have a paper due EVERY damn day; I was there, I know.  Another favorite tactic is cheating on cut games.  Generally this will involve something like doing the name tag draw when not all the girls are present - funny how those not present have to stay.  And let me tell you, it's the same girls who go home early all the time.

So why does Hooters keep these slacking girls?  Well a good part of that has to do with the fact that girls like me will work their asses off picking up the slack.  If I do twice the work and never complain they don't have to hire another girl.  Also, some of these girls are our trainers who, in the beginning, worked their butts off but now don't give a damn knowing that they won't get fired because it would look bad.  Meanwhile, the rest of us trainers not only do twice the work but get a bad rap from the other girls.

It's all good though, I'll keep working my buns off and making my money and someday perhaps I'll miraculously have homework for a class I'm not even in. Oh and just so you know that homework involves watching American Idol.

Summer In Paris

I am imagining summer in Paris.  Riding the train from Amsterdam, we end up at a seedy hotel where plaster falls from the ceiling as we enter the sliding glass doors.  We pretend we don't mind the accommodations and imagine we're staying in a fabulous flat with handsome models across the hall.  We eat sandwiches everyday because they come on baguettes and we can order them without asking for translation - we feel more French that way.  So we sit on the Metro eating our sandwiches from paper bags while we wear impractical shoes that gave us countless blisters as we walked from the Eiffel Tower to the Louvre; we don't care about the blisters because high fashion is so French.  

We take a day trip to Versailles to escape the city.  I comment that the sky is the most perfect shade of Marie Antoinette blue as we eat ice cream on the Grand Promenade.  We imagine that we are ladies of the court in kitten heals and ball gowns while we discuss the fact that Marie never actually said anything about eating cake.  We imagine times gone by, lives forgotten, palaces never to be lived in again.

You want to visit Chopin's grave because his music is your favorite.  We go to the cemetery and you wished you'd brought a flower for him.  One day you say you'll go to Warsaw and visit his heart.  Later, you play his music on the piano in the hotel lobby and I feel your connection to a man you can never know; he comes to you through your hands as they touch the keys.  I remember wishing I had half your talent as you played that piano and music filtered up through the courtyard.

As savvy as we are, we are swindled by the immigrants on the steps to the Sacre Cure.  They tell me they are raising money for the Church and tell you they are are helping needy children.  I am embarrassed but you, as always, are assertive enough to demand your money back.  Within minutes our laughter overcomes our anger as it always does.

And then of course we climb the Eiffel Tower.  It is a windy day and though we can feel the tower sway, we refuse to take the elevator.  We look out over the many angled roofs of the city and take photos of the Tower's shadow as it darkens the houses below.  You buy postcards and even though they are more expensive you remark that they are even more special because you bought them from so high above the ground.  To end the day we spend all our money eating dinner at the Jules Verne just so we can say we ate at the very top and have romantic dreams about being proposed to there.  We call mom from a pay phone under the North Pier and when she doesn't answer we leave a message about being under the Eiffel Tower that she still saves.

Riding back to Amsterdam on the train we say how wonderful it is to be two sisters in Paris.  Perhaps we will never be two sisters in Paris again, I remember thinking that as the train sped along.  I remember feeling a fleeting moment of grief as Uncle Bruno met us at the train station to take us back to the apartment.  Maybe one day we can meet there again - two sisters in Paris.

Step One: Get Selected for the Colgate Country Showdown

I was selected for the Colgate Country Showdown! I turned in my demo and based on that I was one of 14 competitors selected from around 50 submissions. Now I have to contact the venue to do soundcheck (how official sounding) and decide what I'll play. I'll have ten minutes of performing time so I'll think I'll be doing a cover of Sugarland's "Stay" and an original song called "Falling Out". Here I come country stardom (I wish).

My Life in Spandex

I feel like my whole life has revolved around spandex. I played volleyball on a state championship winning team in high school - the sport of all things spandex - and had some amazing pink shiny spandex that was the staple of my favorite rollerblading outfit when I was 8. My bike helmet even had these sweet spandex covers so I could change the color whenever I wanted to (which was daily because every girl knows her bike helmet simply must match her outfit).

So when I saw some pictures of the new style Hooters Girl shorts on fellow a Hooters Girl's blog I started having flashbacks of spandex gone by. The new shorts quite frankly reminded me of all that has been purely awesome in my life (even those damn helmet covers). Most notably, I am reminded of my college track uniform because - shit you not - minus the cute little slits on the sides I ran my ass off in nearly the EXACT same shorts. That's right, I ran track in some of the shortest spandex I have ever worn. And all you men thought track and field was boring! I do have to say though, as cute as I probably looked in those little maroon hot shorts they do create certain uncomfortable situations when one's primary activity is jumping into a pit full of sand - I shall spare you the details.

Needless to say I am fairly excited about the proposition of wearing something that is made of the most awesome material known to mankind. Especially considering that the current shorts are so obviously outdated. I mean I realize that the shorts are quintessentially Hooters but there is nothing flattering about an article of clothing that simultaneous lets your butt hang out while creating the longest mom-jean ass ever - they're a wardrobe oxymoron.

Long story short (haha short) I want the new shorts! Unfortunately, our store has at this point decided not to get the new shorts. One of our managers said that they'll maybe get the new ones when they run out of what is currently stocked so we should buy them up if we want the new ones. Not sure where the logic is in buying a whole bunch of something that may be obsolete in the next month, but it's certainly nice for the store's bottom (haha bottom) line. Really though I just hope we get the spandex soon because I'll feel right at home in that skintight fabric

The Hooters Truths

Being a Hooters Girl there are certain things that you will find to be an everyday part of your life. These things, that I call the Hooters Truths, can be annoying, exasperating, and tiring but are unfortunately unavoidable. I’ve decided to start outlining these many Hooters Truths into a list that I’m sure will take several posts as more of them come to mind. For now, lets get started.

As a Hooters Girl you WILL:
1. Gain what can only be described as an intense loathing for nylons.
2. Go through crazy amounts of makeup, as you are required to wear it daily.
3. Most likely stop doing your hair and makeup when you have a day off.
4. Love your pouch as it is the best defense against ever present camel toe
5. Smell like chicken wings, hot grease, and beer pretty much all the time.
6. Be disgusted by the copious amounts of ranch consumed by Americans.
7. Know the words to nearly every popular 80s song.
8. Become addicted to lip gloss.
9. Turn and look whenever you hear clapping – everywhere you go.
10. Try the notorious “double bra” to enhance your cleavage.
11. Become a pro at hula hooping, beer pouring, yelling, paper towel kicking, and dancing the Cotton-Eyed Joe among other things.
12. Own Sharpies in every color.
13. Have stinky ass feet (disgusting I know, sorry).
14. Start standing the “Hooters way” in every picture you take, even in real life.
15. Miss nail polish.

This is just the start of the Hooters Truths. Don’t worry, there are more amazing Hooters secrets to come…