Thursday May 10, 2007

Sadly enough, the following story is probably the shining example of my wit:
About seven years ago, I was working my last shift at the shitty Italian buffet.  I'd waitressed over lunch, then was covering the afternoon in the kitchen.  We kept a pot of boiling water on the stove at all times for pasta, and for some reason, it was set up on the front burner that afternoon.  An order for pasta came in, and when I went to dump the spaghetti into the pot, I didn't think, and dumped the pasta towards myself instead of away from my torso.  Oh, the boiling water!  On my stomach!  Melting my uniform shirt onto my abdomen!  I screamed and plucked the synthetic fibers from the wound, and hyperventilated my way over to the (alcoholic, wastoid) manager.  He mentions that the first aid kit is "lost", and then asks if I can stay and close for him that night.  I said fuck you no, got in my car, and left- not before pulling what was left of my uniform shirt off my body and tossing it onto his desk and strutting out to the parking lot in my bra.  (Well, I had another shirt in the car.)
I was in a hurry to leave, get home, and self-medicate/bandage the wound, because I was to attend My First House Party that evening in Hastings, and I did not want to miss an official opportunity to get drunk.  I slapped a big wad o' gauze onto my stomach, taped it into place, and got dressed in my homage to Joan Jett.  I slipped out without the family noticing my oozing sore, and drove to help pre-party.  As I was the only non-Hastings guest, I was elected the Liquor Store Helper.  I accompanied and the older-brother-of-a-friend-of-a-friend "adult" into the liquor store, where we loaded up a giant shopping cart with booze.  At the checkout, I'm trying my best to look surly and of legal age when the checkout girl notices my protruding bandages over the top of my jeans.  She points at the mass of gauze and says "ohmygod, what happened to your stomach?  Are you ok?"... at which point, I shrugged, affected a grizzled look, and said "c-section".

Best plan not to get carded ever.

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