And so my 30th year of life begins....

Guess what? I turned 29 yesterday!

I had a hangover approximately the size of Montana since the celebrating started the night before, after my first full-length concert with vocal band, Funkin' A! (yes, the exclamation point is part of the name). Or more accurately, the celebrating started during the concert when during an extended instrumental break of one of my solos (Michael Jackson's "Working Day and Night"), I did a shot at the bar. Because I'm just that gangsta. We performed with more established (but less visually stylish) groups Overboard and Similar Jones. Fun times.

Then we went to my former place of work, the Hong Kong, for some karaoke. My brother (visiting from NYC) serenaded the pretty bartender with an amazing version of Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me." My memory starts to get a little fuzzy around the point where my old boss started buying rounds of shots. Hence, the Monday hangover.

But I pulled it together in time for a lovely birthday dinner at Cuchi Cuchi, where I reserved the Chico Chica Boom Table, New England's first interactive LED (light-emitting diode) table.

It was a great night, with great company. I am a lucky girl. And like a French Bordeaux, I'm only getting better with age. I'm confident that my 30s will be filled with less folly than my 20s, a.k.a. "my salad days/ when I was green in judgment" (Antony and Cleopatra, Act I).

Green in judgment, indeed. That's putting it mildly.

The help

Yesterday, I went to my first bat mitzvah. Despite the numerous Jews I now count among my closest friends, I used to be a raging anti-Semite. Just kidding! The truth is that I switched schools in 7th grade and missed my window of opportunity. Also, St. Louis, MO is pretty WASP-dominated.

Yesterday was a milestone, in more ways than one. Sadly, I was not a relative or friend of the young lady celebrating her transition (in stylish black Minolos) into adulthood. I was the help.


It was my first gig with Event Temps, a company that provides food service staff for catered events (parties, weddings, mitzvahs et al). As many of you know, I returned to Boston in September hell-bent on getting a job at a certain Chicago-style pizza chain. In case I ever do get hired by this establishment, I'll refer to it here as "Dos."

It was my dream to work for "Dos": After getting groped by stuck-up Cantabs at the Hong Kong and slinging sushi at a place that never quite mastered its payroll procedures, I figured "Dos" would be a well-oiled machine. There's a location just 5 minutes from my house and it's always crowded. And yet, after applying online, following up in person and on the phone, nada. I even tried the Fenway location and interviewed, but was told they were fully staffed for the time being and to check back in a few months. So my dream to work at "Dos" is now, as Langston Hughes would say, a dream deferred.

So now I am an Event Temp. Saturday morning, I carpooled out to a synagogue in Wayland, MA to pass appetizers, fold napkins and man the soda table. In the car ride over, the other temps on my shift assured me that this sort of work was easier than waiting tables. But what I have concluded after working my first shift is that it's also less rewarding. Partly because you're supposed to be somewhat invisible -- no one is ordering off a menu and consulting you. You're just paid labor, keeping water glasses full and clearing plates. And hovering-- there was a great deal of hovering.

The event was a success; I didn't spill anything on anyone and the people seemed very nice. The kids were hyper, but partly because of my zealousness in refilling their sodas. But I did notice a few of the tweens watching us as we went about our work and I know what they were thinking. They were looking at their well-dressed parents sipping wine and looking at me, in my ill-fitting black polyester vest, pouring said wine and I'd bet they were thinking, That will never be me. Maybe not consciously, but let's face it, we were the life losers in the scenario. They were probably wondering what we had done, how we had screwed up to deserve the fate of refilling butter ramekins on a Saturday afternoon.

And I'm not gonna lie, this was a less-than-steller feeling. Waiting tables, I commanded more respect. I could talk and smile with people, do my best to make sure they had a good meal. Event Temps are supposed to be courteous but not engage much with the guests. Engaging with people is my favorite part of waitressing, so this was disappointing to discover.

I need a job, so for now, Event Temps will have to do. But "Dos," if you ever need me...I'm there. Call me!

A Few of My Favorite Things

I thought it would be fun to just post a compilation of things I've been enjoying recently. If a dog bites you or a bee stings you, maybe some of these things will improve your mood. It worked for Julie Andrews, it can work for you.

1. Favorite YouTube Video (at the moment, this will probably change by tomorrow)




2. Favorite Inappropriate Hip Hop Song: "One More Drink" by Ludacris

The lyrics in the chorus suggest date rape:

"If I take one more drink, I gonna end up fucking you"

Much like Red Lobster's "Endless Shrimp" campaign, that sounds like equal parts promise and threat. Also, if you're out on the dance floor and singing this to someone as your grinding with them, isn't that kind of offensive? Like "Baby, I'm almost trashed enough to try to take you home. One more drink, and I'm THHHHEEEEERRRREEE."


3. Favorite Joke (told to me by Shane Mauss)

So these two guys are at a bar, having some drinks, and in walks this dude with a gigantic orange head. He sits down and has a drink, while the two guys next to him try not to stare. But finally, curiosity gets the better of them and one of them says, "Man, I have to ask: what's with your big orange head?"

Orange-Head Guy sighs and takes a sip of his beer. "Well," he says, "the truth is that I found a magic genie in a lamp and the genie gave me three wishes. For my first wish, I asked to be married to a supermodel. And I am! She's fucking gorgeous. Then I wished for 10 million dollars-- and wham! I have more money then I know what to do with."

He pauses.

"Yeah, I think where I went wrong was when I wished to have a gigantic orange head."


4. Favorite Exchange with a Patron at the Hong Kong

Me: (handing the man a menu) Let me know if I can get you anything.

Man: Do you guys have pizza?

Me: (puzzled) No...this is a Chinese restaurant.

Man: (clearly disappointed) Oh. (suddenly brightens) Do you guys have calzones?

Me: ??????


5. Favorite Urban Slang I Sound Stupid Using

It's a tie between "clutch" and "gangsta"

The final post of 2008!

I'm the first to admit that New Years' Eve is a totally overrated holiday. Every year that I try to plan something awesome and fun, I end up asleep or on the subway at midnight, or in one case, bedridden with tonsillitis in London. This year, i.e. tonight, I'm working at the Hong Kong, serving up scorpion bowls in the wee and first hours of 2009.

But one thing I do take take seriously is New Years' resolutions. And I've decided that the problem with them is accountability. We all make resolutions, or at least most of us do, but we keep them to ourselves. This is so that when we eat a half-bag of microwave popcorn and watch Cheers reruns at 3 a.m., like I did last night, no one can say "Gee, Katie, remember how you resolved to eat more nutritiously, be more active, and go to bed at a reasonable hour?" Instead, you can quietly fail and no one is the wiser.

So I'm putting my resolutions on this blog for all (i.e. my 9 readers) to see. And I'm giving you permission to nag me if I break them in the first six months of '09.

1. Do more yoga

All-One Yoga in Allston is a 5-min. walk from my house and they have a student discount, so really, there is no excuse. Plus, my ineptness probably gives others hope and confidence, so it could be argued that my presence in a yoga class serves a greater good.

2. Create a daily writing schedule and stick to it

I'm one semester into grad school and while I'm writing more, I'm still not writing every day. And I should. I should get my ass out of bed at a reasonable hour and write.

3. Submit to literary magazines and journals

I'm sure I'll get rejected my first few times at bat, but I need to at least start attempting to get published somewhere other than on this blog.

4. Eat better

I offer yesterday's food log as evidence: 1 cinnamon raisin bagel with cream cheese, 1 coffee, 7 beers (I went to a free tasting at the Harpoon brewery!), onion rings, fries and mac 'n cheese at Roadhouse (shared among 4 people...don't judge), 1/2 bag of microwave popcorn, 4 graham crackers with peanut butter spread on them

5. Pay off my Capital One Visa

Seriously, the interest rate is like 26% or something. I resolve to get rid of this card every year and but can't seem to get the motherfucker out of my wallet. I don't even use it, but with the accrued interest, I can't seem to pay it off.

I think 5 is good number of resolutions. I could go on with a minor list of easily achievable things (like mail back the Ulysses S. Grant biography manuscript that I decided not to copyedit back in October before the author presses legal action), but this feels like a solid "to-do in 2009" list.

Happy New Years'!


(maybe resolution #6 should be to stop using lame stock photography on my blog....)

Observations from behind the bar

Recently, my job description at Hong Kong Harvard has expanded from just cocktail waitressing to cocktail waitressing and bartending. On either Friday or Saturday, I get to tend the "baby bar" on the third floor, which serves only beer and shots. It's a totally different perspective, to be behind the bar -- there is more respect and less groping. And I have a great view of the dance floor, which if you've been to my place of work, know is highly entertaining.

Hong Kong reminds me a lot of Toad's in New Haven: it's a cheapish college bar where you can do tequila shots and drink Bud Light while (almost) shamelessly dancing to hip hop and Britney. I myself only went to Toad's three times in four years, and once was to see a They Might Be Giants concert. But the other two times, I did what you're supposed to do in such establishments -- binge-drank like it was going out of style and made a fool of myself on the dance floor. And watching people at Hong Kong has confirmed my worst fears of how ridiculous I must have looked.

My new vantage point offers phenomenal people-watching opportunities. FYI, how you interact with your bartender says more about you than you realize.

Some observations:

Girls tip better than guys

Everyone told me that being a cute girl would be my golden ticket and to wear low-cut shirts to get more tips, but I've found that unless the girlfriend/date is watching, some guys don't tip appropriately. What is appropriate? $1 a drink. Period. Pretty easy. Even with beer, guys. I'm getting paid $2.65/hr, people.

Yes, I am making conversation with you because it's my job. Most likely I do not want your phone number

I mean, I won't be offended if you try to give it to me. I'll probably be flattered. But don't wait by the phone, dude.

Don't be a creeper on the dance floor

Last night, there was this shady dude whose signature move was to sneak up and stealthily freak-dance on unsuspecting girls. When they would finally notice, they would get this horrified look on their faces and run away. I saw this guy do this literally 400 times over the course of two hours. Don't be this guy.

You know how you think you look really fierce? This is what you actually look like:


What you order does say a lot about you

When you ask if I can make you a Sex On The Beach, I am judging you. Especially since there's a big sign over my bar that says I only serve beer.

It's Saturday and I'll be back at Hong Kong again tonight....so drink responsibly! Your bartender is watching you.

My new job

Mom and Dad would be so proud.

Ok, so technically, I don't work at Club Fuxxx, but The Comedy Studio, where I am a waitress two nights a week becomes Club Fuxxx at 11 pm on Fridays and Saturdays. Located on the third floor of the illustrious Hong Kong restaurant and bar, Club Fuxxx draws mostly Harvard kids who enthusiastically and poorly dance to hip-hop after drinking a few too many Scorpion Bowls.

Observe:

The woman on the far right looks like she just got an enema.

I'm thinking about submitting info about my new job to the Yale Alumni Magazine for inclusion in the Class Notes section. The entry might look something like this:

Brooks Madison (JE) just passed the California bar exam and will be joining the prestigious law firm of Miller, Toppleman, and Krauss next month. Best of luck, Brooks! McKenzie Adams (SM) and Douglas Dalton (TD) recently tied the knot at Martha's Vineyard in front of a crowd of 350 which included many Yalies and Ivy League graduates. The ceremony, according to bridesmaid Lindsay Taft (SM), was extremely elegant and tasteful. Katie Vagnino (BR) just got a job as a cocktail waitress at Club Fuxxx in Cambridge, MA. Drs. Suzanna Spitz-Boone (DC) and Pierce Boone (MC '01) recently returned from a three-month Doctors-Without-Borders tour in Kenya and are thrilled to annoucnce that they are expecting their first child in March.

One of these things is not like the other....