what was that supposed to mean?

Anderson Cooper or somevoice on his show, just said the ball in Times Square is twice as big as last year. What is the relevance of that. Or as we say in southjersey Whatdafuck iszat supposed to mean? Weird thought to say bye now to 2008. Bye now. feliz ano nuevo. de la pinche

what about immagracion?

After all the excitement and the election and ectlectic i came to ask myself the same question i've been asking myself, and my neighbor's friend's co-workers and most intimate aquaintences...what about immagration? how does this "problem" get addressed, let alone solved? less than 20 shopping days till xmas, people!
i mean less than 26ish days until obama is sworn in yeah think about it. I wondered what are New Year Traditions in families? aside from mom & dad ordering a case of piel's a fifth of 7&7 and a pot of meatballs what made a new years tradition? the food thing when i was young was heavily leaning to the pig side, ham, pork roast, saurkraut, kielbasa, beans, eventually, but what do we eat in the traditional future?
and what about immagration? lets face it, aside from fitting in, we have to learn sensible ways to make more $ for our country, alot of people live here and we still have the resources so my budgetary suggestions are #1-create a border policy that would let all hispanics that manage to get into usa 6 months to attain a real social security number. open border, one number. we all have one, so why should the undocumented be excluded from this happy process?
ok, six months later, a year realistically, everybody has a number.
then, the deductions from the paycheck begin, for everybody. citizen or not, taxes and death are unavoidable. so taxes are taken out of every paycheck. six months later, the government is riding high on the amount of money collected every week, every month, every quarter, fiscal year, and despite a record high year of Mercury retrograde, a budgetary surplus.
then. we really wake up. cannabis is recognized as a fundamental, historical and secular sacrament and legalized, finally and formally, by the good and many people of this country as the primero crop of the newly formed UnitedStatesofAmexico and trade agreements are toasted over cocktails (formerly called White Russian's) but in the new high spirits of amexico, are a blend of soymilk,coffee,and, depending on your personal choice-BudLite,Kahlua,Boost,BlackSambuca,YuenglingLager,DagoRed,PBR&a JD,a swirl of Padrone,a lime, kosher salt, raw cuban sugarcane, a one shot of your choice....................really happy new year. happy is a good way to begin the year.

the day after

work, the diner, lifting tray after tray of "chip" over white, tired tired tired, after 9 hours of endless crap, two lovely black ladies come in for a T-bone. I so want to leave. They eat slowly, daintely. I give them some extra cheese bread to take home. Talk a little with them, find they are Jehovah's Witnesses. They hand me a tip from a two top that shamed me, so involved was I in getting out of the diner. once again, i realized, how little I know.
Then I met with a long time friend I had not seen in 5 years situations and life being what it is.......a friend of 20 years standing. I have dealt with alot of death in my life, but was not prepared for him to tell me his youngest brother had commited suicide a month ago. I listened. I love him.

and so this is christmas

and what have i done? escaped back to my cave, after a christmas eve day at "the diner" where i began my day with a gift to my coworkers in the kitchen, the unfortunate mexicans far from their families, all 14 of them living in the same casa and so i gave them a candle of Maria, for their casa. They seemed to appreciate the fact i was the only server giving them something they understood. the scratch off lottery tickets thoughfully presented to them by the other servers didn't seem to make much of an impression. then i was off to what i hoped would be a meaningful christmas eve with my daughter and grandaughter, only to watch the child being toted around to family friend's of my daughter's and to her other biological grandparents, "baby's dad" not being present. at least a dozen adults competing for the attention of this delightful 4 year old pointing digital cameras, thrusting ever more "gifts" at her, while I sat and wondered what ever happened to the Christmas Past?
Then back to my daughter's house, where her roomates were involved in a TAPS marathon, so cool are they, so superior to the trash they chose to view on what could be a lovely holy home night. I managed to lay down with my cherished grandaughter and read her the same book my mother read me, the same book i read my daughter every christmas eve, and then we fell asleep........until the dawn of the holy day. when yet more people arrived bearing gifts to this lovely unspoiled child, overloading her with barbies, bratz and spongebob cologne. then she was wisked off for the italian drama that passes for christmas at her other grandparents, plied with food, more uneccesary gifts, while i chose to stay and clean up my daughters ruined kitchen and collect the piles of giftwrap, plastic, staples, twisties, and general ruination that had become the living room. after my daughter arrived back i announced i was not going to any more rounds but would come home to enjoy the holy night, silent night, alone. and she was unable to pick up precious at the appointed time so they could procede to yet another destination, becasue Noni had just began another round of ziti, gifts, most requiring batteries, high heels for dolls, and arguements about whose cannolis would be served alongside the tiramisu bought at Costco. My own gifts, a cd player and a few cds of music that transcends the ages, were left behind on a living room floor amongst the Bratz, Barbies, and batteries not included. Tommorow its back to the diner, which oddly enough, is becoming more normal to me than this absurd orgy which passes for something else i recall, something lovely and appreciated and special. did I do the right thing, by opting out to return to my peaceful cave? indeed.

is it time to give thanks?

exactley what is the difference between recession and depression? well....break down the root and i guess to recess, is to recieve, to regress....i wish i knew latin prefixes i would like re re re re have a little respect. i what is the root of re?
i know the reason for the season. it ain't your mister jesus. it is re. remember. restock. reconnect.
it ain't about shopping. getting. or even giving, in the modern sense of the word if that means giving crap bought from retailers trying to sell shit that makes you believe you gave a gift.
a gift is light. light. easy to carry, born on a cold winter day. a lone green tree.
a star as bright as a song.
a clear cold night.
a father's hand.
trust.
belief.
one bright star among many
one bright light that may guide you.
one gift. one love. one child. one dream.
spend nothing. gather love. spread warmth.
its easy, so easy. remember, honour, cherish.
light one candle. eat one sweet cookie. sleep, sweet.

2 wins but are we lost

harry callas calls it "we're outta here!' it all happened in one week. the phils win the series, first time since 1980, less than a week later Obama wins the election. despite my elation i am still looking for a second job. this is my america. i wish, remember, envision, and hope.
i remember the soundtrack of my summers, dad at the kitchen table with the transistor radio and a philly's game. i remember voting in my first presidential election. i wish i had a better understanding. i hope my vision isn't failing me.
does anybody else read my blog or am i once again writing to myself?
is anyone reading this, how can i make my blog a more interesting, engaging place to visit? i have alot to say but don't know how to attract more attention to this space. how can i connect my various places and get a better page put there. i may not be a lifetime member, but i have plenty more to say. de la pinche

first blog ever, about anything

and i wind up blogging about being a south jersey diner waitress. most days i wake up and i'm completely surprised that this is the life i've found myself in. me, once an independant, self employed small business owner, have found myself living the daily tragedy of waitressing in various diners up and down route 130 in south jersey. i cannot even call myself "a server". fine dining just isn't exciting enough. no, i have chosen the hard road.....as in "hon, ya need a topoff on the coffee?", as in reciting the 6 soup selections and the soup dj, as in watching the ever dwindling elderley cliental study the BluePlate specials for 15 minutes and finally decide on the Chicken Parm with 2 vegetables instead of pasta, knowing i will run around the kitchen warming up bread, ladling up soup, screaming at the busboy that i need more 1000 island dressing, traying fruit cups, soup, salad-which is served off a salad bar every single server has dug through all day with their bare unclean hands fishing for the "freshest least wilted pieces of lettuce, bell pepper and intact cherry tomatoes" in all of south jersey. then i put the order in. the entire kitchen staff is mexican with the exception of a greek who is dubiousley related to the owners, all of them either unable to speak any english that is not on the menu, who enjoy working 14 hour days at $10.00 an hour and all the food they can shove into their mouths between dropping fries, broiling "seafood" and making a club sandwich. toasting bread requires a waitress to run the bread through twice, guarding the precious cargo with your life or the mexican servers will steal it for their order, the heat blasting off the toaster into your face, butter smeared all over your fingers, face and apron and the floor, everywhere but the toast. meanwhile listening to the dishwashers chattering on their prepaid cellphones to their wives in mexico while the busboys set up whore nite at the casa on other prepaid cellphones, and the "chef/baker" is leading the cheer of queres comer? every time a waitress walks into the kitchen. queres comer means "want eat?" and they ain't asking if we want a sandwich. the hostesses are the unlucky teenage daughters of the greek owners, who having been raised in a strict greek family are not allowed to date, have social lives or friends, but must report to work where they help run the family business by screwing up the seating, favoring the mexican servers, who after all are getting the job done by racing thru the kitchen like its a soccer field, dropping condiments all over the floor, stealing toast, cole slaw, salad dressing and whatever else they may need that is available in order to get the food to the table as quickly as possible. fuck the other servers who had the foresight to toast the bread, get the dressings, begin to set up their trays. and forget about complaining to the management/owners. they have no policy playbook or rules. other servers are usually found either taking calls on their cell phones, texting their drug dealers or laying up on the end of the counter playing scratch off lottery tickets. i think i am going to look for another job. i heard another infamous diner may be hiring. wish me luck