Cleaning bathrooms is flippin disgusting. I do not know what the hell is wrong with you people, that you need to make the most effed up mess humanly possible, while being consciously aware of the fact that someone has to clean it. I understand that everyone has to poop, and whatever else bodily functions people do, but REALLY PEOPLE. I'm not gonna say the men are way worse, or the women are way worse, but they are both completely jacked up.
Men. If you piss on the seat, I don't care. Shit happens, I get that, thats why we have toilet paper. Wipe that shit up so it doesn't dry there for me or someone else to scrub off in the morning! However, that isn't even the worst part! How the F*ck do men manage to get that many pubes off themselves and into the urinal. You are probably like "Oh my god, how could he talk about this on his blog?" It's easy, because I have to clean this! This is not right at all, but this isn't as bad as the women, sorry women.
Women. WHAT THE HELL! I can respect you as a women. I believe women have equal rights, just as men. I acknowledge your painful ability to give birth to a child. I acknowledge your place in the workplace. In fact, I am a pretty big fan of women myself, unless you go into my bathrooms and decide to bleed all over the place. There are two HUGE options for you here before I get yelled at by women everywhere; you can wipe that shit up! Not that hard! Hell, I will even provide toilet paper for you to do so! We even have little bags next to the thrown to put your things in! OR, you could just choose to not make a mess. I can't speak on behalf of women, but I'm assuming that it is possible to do this stuff without getting blood everywhere.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
My Main Stresser *(Tangent 1)
Many people have big stresses in their live's, I am somewhat of a chill person. Things that normally bother people and stress them out, do not have the same effect on me. However, certain things piss me off like effin crazy. The root of all of my stress has to be my car. I drive a 1999 Honda Civic, silver. I love my car. I hate the shit that breaks on it. It really started out small. Earlier this year I started to hear a small rumbling coming from beneath my car, I thought it was probably a squirrel or something and I was not too worried. Two weeks later my catalytic converter fell off. My car sounded like a tank, which inevitably led to me speeding, and an 88$ ticket, a letter to the city, and a meeting with the city attorney.LUCKILY the part was still under warranty, so the biggest issue was talking to the people at Autozone who speak minimal English, only to find out that the part was purchased at Napa Autoparts... I replaced the cat. and I thought everything was fine... until a bolt wiggled free and started vibrating. It echoed throughout my car like a child banging on a pipe in a hallway. I eventually fixed this issue, but the damage was done, my blood pressure had begun to rise.
Everything had been fine and dandy until I went through this puddle at East Town Mall that turned out to be a small lake. 2 months later, the water that had been in my muffler had rusted a hole through. I was hella disappointed to say the least. I ordered a new muffler and replaced the old one so my car no longer sounded like an F-250 pickup truck. When I put the new muffler on, the exhaust pipe was positioned very closely to the bumper cover. So close in fact that it produced a loud-ass vibrating sound when I was under a 1000 RPM or between 2700 and 3200. You may be asking yourself Caullen, why do you know this exactly? Well, it became an intricate science to prevent my car from making this horrible noise, but it was inevitable. This was somewhat bearable, what came next was not. I (my dad) finally took the muffler off and bent the hangers and positioned it so it would no longer make this noise. Finally relief, until it happened. My brake pads were ready to be changed... and I had no money. Many people know this, but if you do not, let me enlighten you. When your brake-pads are ready to be changed, there is an indicator. No, not a little quiet red light or a nice beep once in a while. It's an incessant hissing that eventually grew into a whining, which matured into a squeal, and progressed into a full out scream. Oh dear god. I was so embarrassed by it. I had to drive with the windows open so I could see how loud it was. I started braking erratically, and speeding. I noticed when I went over 40, the scream became a hiss again, it was bearable. I found I was beginning to grind my teeth while driving as well as dig my fingernails into the back of the steering wheel. I was slowly going insane. I was no longer listening to music or focusing on the road. There was only the noise. I cannot count the amount of things I almost hit. I needed them changed, or I was going to kill someone. So I finally convinced my parents to spot me some cash and I picked up a brand spanking new pair which I put on my car today, with the assistance of my AWESOME Uncle Mark. Who by the way kicks ass! Now my car is quiet again :) For now... I am quite excited about the level of stealthy-ness I have reclaimed! *fist pump*
TBC
/end_rant
Everything had been fine and dandy until I went through this puddle at East Town Mall that turned out to be a small lake. 2 months later, the water that had been in my muffler had rusted a hole through. I was hella disappointed to say the least. I ordered a new muffler and replaced the old one so my car no longer sounded like an F-250 pickup truck. When I put the new muffler on, the exhaust pipe was positioned very closely to the bumper cover. So close in fact that it produced a loud-ass vibrating sound when I was under a 1000 RPM or between 2700 and 3200. You may be asking yourself Caullen, why do you know this exactly? Well, it became an intricate science to prevent my car from making this horrible noise, but it was inevitable. This was somewhat bearable, what came next was not. I (my dad) finally took the muffler off and bent the hangers and positioned it so it would no longer make this noise. Finally relief, until it happened. My brake pads were ready to be changed... and I had no money. Many people know this, but if you do not, let me enlighten you. When your brake-pads are ready to be changed, there is an indicator. No, not a little quiet red light or a nice beep once in a while. It's an incessant hissing that eventually grew into a whining, which matured into a squeal, and progressed into a full out scream. Oh dear god. I was so embarrassed by it. I had to drive with the windows open so I could see how loud it was. I started braking erratically, and speeding. I noticed when I went over 40, the scream became a hiss again, it was bearable. I found I was beginning to grind my teeth while driving as well as dig my fingernails into the back of the steering wheel. I was slowly going insane. I was no longer listening to music or focusing on the road. There was only the noise. I cannot count the amount of things I almost hit. I needed them changed, or I was going to kill someone. So I finally convinced my parents to spot me some cash and I picked up a brand spanking new pair which I put on my car today, with the assistance of my AWESOME Uncle Mark. Who by the way kicks ass! Now my car is quiet again :) For now... I am quite excited about the level of stealthy-ness I have reclaimed! *fist pump*
TBC
/end_rant
Step one, work
I had always assumed that my first step into "chef-hood" would be through formal education, yet all of the people I have encountered in the real world of cooking, possess no formal education what so ever, in fact it seems like these people didn't want to be chef's/cooks/bakers/dishwashers at all, they took the jobs by necessity. Where I see my self in a number of years is not in their positions at all, I see myself in a big city being the head chef of a somewhat prestigious restaurant. I would prefer that this restaurant not be located in Wisconsin, or even the United States for that matter. I would like to follow in the steps of Mario Batali and move to Europe and find employment in a small pub or authentic restaurant and work my way up. I know this will not be a simple matter, but I need aspirations in my life to get where I want to be.
I just recently got a job at a restaurant in West Green Bay at a place called Fratellos. It is a authentic Italian place. I was hired as a dishwasher. I am not exactly sure if I am full time or part time or how much I am making... but I have my foot in the door now, my first real steps into my career. I am working about 50 some hours this week, a bit tired, but nothing I can't handle.
I have found I have developed a strong aversion towards water. I have never been in such a wet environment. My first night I made the HUGE friggen mistake of wearing skate-shoes with holes in the soles. I almost fell on my ass at least 20 times. I managed to break 2 dishes as well! What a great first night! I dropped a small plate at the wash station, which was not a big deal. I picked it up, no one was around, and tossed it into the garbage can and covered it with random food debris. No one noticed, however I was not so lucky the second time. This time I was bringing a large stack (too large) of small bowl like soup dishes to the waitress station where they are kept, I set them down and the tower of fragile ceramic fell so quickly I didn't even have the opportunity to cuss under my breath. I caught all but one. It plunged to the floor and I would have been able to catch it, if it was not for the armful of dishes I had already caught. It hit the ground. I wish it would have just broken there, but it bounced not once, or twice, but three times into the line where the cooks were finalizing a number of dishes. Then, it exploded. I could not even bear to watch it. Fragments of dish flew in every direction. A particularly large piece landed in a plate of some form of pasta. Sonofabitch... The chef's face turned a deep purple and he started cussing violently about how it had to be thrown away and a new one had to be made, meanwhile I was on the floor avoiding his direct line of sight, avoiding the bustling waitresses and picking up every fragment of dish I could find. I finished and sulked back to my dish corner
.
I finished the night in a somewhat positive mood, but still somewhat afraid of all of the cooks. I got home, my parents were gone all weekend, and laid on the couch in my wetness, and fell asleep. I was quite impressed with how wet I had gotten when I woke up at 2pm the next day and I was still damp. I quickly dried and got ready for another night in Dante's Sea World.
I just recently got a job at a restaurant in West Green Bay at a place called Fratellos. It is a authentic Italian place. I was hired as a dishwasher. I am not exactly sure if I am full time or part time or how much I am making... but I have my foot in the door now, my first real steps into my career. I am working about 50 some hours this week, a bit tired, but nothing I can't handle.
I have found I have developed a strong aversion towards water. I have never been in such a wet environment. My first night I made the HUGE friggen mistake of wearing skate-shoes with holes in the soles. I almost fell on my ass at least 20 times. I managed to break 2 dishes as well! What a great first night! I dropped a small plate at the wash station, which was not a big deal. I picked it up, no one was around, and tossed it into the garbage can and covered it with random food debris. No one noticed, however I was not so lucky the second time. This time I was bringing a large stack (too large) of small bowl like soup dishes to the waitress station where they are kept, I set them down and the tower of fragile ceramic fell so quickly I didn't even have the opportunity to cuss under my breath. I caught all but one. It plunged to the floor and I would have been able to catch it, if it was not for the armful of dishes I had already caught. It hit the ground. I wish it would have just broken there, but it bounced not once, or twice, but three times into the line where the cooks were finalizing a number of dishes. Then, it exploded. I could not even bear to watch it. Fragments of dish flew in every direction. A particularly large piece landed in a plate of some form of pasta. Sonofabitch... The chef's face turned a deep purple and he started cussing violently about how it had to be thrown away and a new one had to be made, meanwhile I was on the floor avoiding his direct line of sight, avoiding the bustling waitresses and picking up every fragment of dish I could find. I finished and sulked back to my dish corner
.
I finished the night in a somewhat positive mood, but still somewhat afraid of all of the cooks. I got home, my parents were gone all weekend, and laid on the couch in my wetness, and fell asleep. I was quite impressed with how wet I had gotten when I woke up at 2pm the next day and I was still damp. I quickly dried and got ready for another night in Dante's Sea World.
First Post
So I decided today I was going to keep a blog, not just to share my experiences with others, but as a way to organize my thoughts and possibly analyze and better myself. I never really considered keeping a blog before, the idea has always seemed like an online diary, so to make myself feel better I will not be addressing the blog or the possible readers directly. Maybe someday I will become a somewhat known person and I can publish this in a book or some cool shit like that. Well, I guess this is my prologue then; The prologue to my career and future.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
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