So I went to tropical smoothie today after the gym. Love that shit. Anyways I go to this place somewhat often. Maybe once a week. If I’m being honest, it’s kinda gross. You walk in and the temperature almost goes up from outside. Keep in mind this is Vegas. The temperature should always go down walking into a store. But I walk in today and the girl behind the counter looks like she’s struggling. She is on the proverbial struggle bus. She’s the only person working in this place, but it’s by no means busy. There were three people sitting waiting on their drinks and me who hadn’t ordered yet.
This girl keeps yelling from the back, “I’m so sorry I’ll be right there!” And “I’m really sorry, it’s just me and I’m so busy!” I was looking around like what the fuck is she doing back there. Let’s keep track of time though (yes I checked my phone the second I walked into this shit show). 10 minutes go by and finally she says ok can I help you. So I order my drink and pay and now I’m waiting again. Now we’re are 15 minutes and I’m standing there waiting and she comes out with 2 people’s drinks and they leave. The last woman gets up being extremely impatient and starts getting angry with the girl. She finally gets her drink and this family of five comes in and she takes their order. Now we’re at 20 minutes and she comes out from the back. This time she looks like she’s about to cry and I just sorta laugh. Not at her. I wasn’t trying to be rude but the whole thing was hysterical. She again starts apologizing like crazy, “I’ve been here since 4AM and it’s been crazy since I got here.” I’m still laughing, wondering how busy a tropical smoothie could be at 4AM. But then she’s like I broke something in the back and it’s leaking everywhere. She goes back there again and another 3 minutes goes by. She comes out and now she’s “all wet” as she put it. Her shoes were soaked; I’ll give her that. But there must’ve about an inch of water in the back. She was in the verge of tears now. Barely able to handle the smoothie ridden stress. Now we’re at about a 25 minute wait and I’m debating on leaving but I already paid and I really wanted to see where this could possibly go. In reality, I just wanted to see if she’d actually cry.
She proceeds to ask me for my order. I ask what she means. She totally forgot about my order. I just laughed cause this poor girl who was probably at her very first job clearly was not handling it well. Finally after about 28 minutes I get my drink. I walk into places almost hoping shit will go wrong nowadays. What do people say again? Oh yeah. Do it for the story.
So I don’t know how many of you (the 4 people who read this) have been blessed with going to the OG, but I was lucky enough to go last week. I guess if you don’t know Italian food it really isn’t that bad. The only reason I mention this is because if you put German food in front of me, I wouldn’t know if it was good or authentic or anything. Either way, I don’t understand why this place was busy when I arrived on a Monday night at 5:30. My boss asked me and Marisa to meet her there around this time so we arrive and I tell the hostess that we’re meeting a party of 5 there. She asked me if they are here yet. I asked her if any tables of 5 that were missing two people sat yet at which point she says, “I’m not too sure, would you like to take a look around?” So just to premise this part, this is no small restaurant. There are two sides of the place and a bar. “I don’t want to look around, no thanks,” I said. She then tells me it would really help her out if I looked around. All I can think is you’re the fucking host, why am I supposed to help YOU out. She laughs it off and I just respond with, “if you haven’t sat anyone waiting for people they are probably not here, we’ll just take a table for 5 and we’ll wait here or you can seat us, whatever works for you.” Some 18 year old kid takes me and Marisa to the table and before we even sit down this kid is telling me what to order. He just continuously keeps saying “order the chicken parm man, its my favorite, Chicken parm man. Get the chicken parm. Do you like chicken parm?” Like dude, I get it. You like the fucking chicken parm. Let me see the menu or at least fucking sit down before I decide what to eat. He finally leaves us alone and then a waitress comes over with a quarter full bottle of red wine and asks if we’d like to taste it. I don’t know if this customary but that just struck me as weird. Do I want to try your used up wine? Not really. Then she asked if other people are joining us. We’re sitting at a giant round table, what the fuck do you think? I tell her they’re right around the corner and they’ll be here in a couple seconds. She responds with saying, “one..two.. they’re not here.” Now I’m not sure if she was trying to be funny here, but she was missing on all cylinders. Finally the rest of our party gets there. We order our food and I shit you not, within 3 minutes, everything is brought out. Interesting concept; either everyone that comes here is so dumb that they think they can actually cook the food that quickly, or people don’t care about ordering microwaved food. SO whatever, the food is tasteless yada yada, we both had soup so it couldn’t be that terrible, but this isn’t a review on Olive Garden. I’m assuming the few people that are reading this probably wouldn’t go there anyway. The kicker to this story is when we walk out. Marisa and I walked out just a little ahead of everyone and the hostess stops me and asks, “what happened?” I ask, “what do you mean?” She says, “did you find them?” DID I FIND THEM?!?! I was in the restaurant for an hour. Where the fuck did you think I went. I actually think that I laughed and responded with, “where did you think I went.” I just laughed at her and ended up walking out. No dramatic ending to this story. But overall, my main understanding of the people who work at Olive Garden is that they definitely should be working at Olive Garden.
So I heard that there has been some nonsense about microwaves going on with Kellyanne Conway. I read up on it for like less than two minutes and I feel pretty confident that I barely know what she was referring to. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I get that it is probably not a good thing for people to be spied on but I really couldn’t care less (is my privilege showing?). One of my patients walks in today and tells me she needs to talk to me. Oh and this particular patient calls me “Mr. Wonderful”, which is probably not a compliment, but I think I’m surely a fucking wonder. Anyway, this patient asked me if I heard about the microwaves. Naturally, I said, “no, what are you talking about.” She proceeds to tell me about Kellyanne Conway saying that microwaves can see us and yada yada. I start smirking at her like she’s an idiot and she catches my sarcasm. She remarks, “why do you look so doubtful.” Well I voice my opinion about this by sarcastically suggesting, “don’t you think someone would have taken apart there microwave by now to check for the camera.” She takes me seriously at this point and says, “no they use the radiation from the microwaves to see through wall.” What!!! At this point I literally started laughing because of 2 reasons. Number 1, if that’s true, that’s hysterical and I wish I could see some of the footage. Number 2, that is some of the dumbest motherfuckin shit I’ve ever heard. That’s the kind of shit someone comes up with after smoking some of those funny cigarettes. So I ask her where she heard of this concept of superman vision microwaves. She retorts, “my husband worked for the CIA so he knew about these things.” I obviously left it alone at this point because I wasn’t going to sit there and argue with a patient about the laws of physics. It really is like I’m a totally different person at work; we all know even if I didn’t know what I was talking about I would’ve kept arguing anywhere else. I just can’t imagine living like that. By living like that I basically mean living without a microwave, which I imagine would make life close to impossible. Anyway, if you feel the need to protect yourself from a microwave, then watch out for toaster ovens, especially the brave little toaster cause that fucker has some crazy friends.
We all know that I have been living in the Silver State for a few months now. I’ve basically been renting out the first floor of a house for a while now. I share my living room and kitchen with my landlord. He travels for work, so essentially, I have the whole house to myself. Now, don’t get me wrong, we all know I’m a prick, but I’m a great roommate. I’m ridiculously clean. I don’t leave a dirty dish in the sink for more than an hour, I clean the kitchen every Saturday, I vacuum often enough, and I even clean my room once a week. For fuck’s sake, I even clean my landlord’s cat’s litter, feed the little fuck, and tape roll the couch to get the hair off of it. Does this all benefit me? Of course it does, but hey, at least I’m not some scum bag living in this guys house. Last Friday the 2nd, I get a text from this fucking guy (my landlord), saying his friend and the friend’s girlfriend were going to stay in the spare room for a few days. So let’s all take a second to realize that I’m writing this blog 11 days after I’ve received that text and these two fat pigs are sitting on my couch in their filth. But we’ll get to that. On the 2nd, I told myself that it will just be a few days and it’s no big deal.
I meet them on Friday night and they proceed to tell me that they are here to work “Cowboy Christmas” here in Vegas. I let that thought stew in my head for a few seconds as I was about to ask them what the event was. Right before I asked, it dawned on me that I couldn’t give a flying fuck what it was, so I just responded with “sounds fun.” The first couple days they were here were fine. They worked all day and I never saw them until 7 at night and they would go straight to bed. So let’s fast forward to Saturday the 10th. They came home around 9 at night and I had just returned from the bar. I was pretty buzzed at this point. I decided to find out a little bit about these people who had been living in my house for more than a week. I don’t remember exactly what they said about themselves, but if I had to put it in my own words it probably went something like this… “Yeah dude we’re from Tennessee, and we’re both hicks. She’s my first cousin and she looks like that because we like to keep the breed strong. We were both home schooled so we don’t know how to communicate with real people beside our family. Also, I sell toilets for a living at trade shows.” The last part is actually true. Hopefully you get the gist of what kind of people I’m dealing with here. They seemed nice enough. I actually told my mom that they were nice people. Obviously I jinxed myself. Before I went to sleep on Saturday, I told them I’d be watching football all day on Sunday if they wanted to join me. They did, and they knew nothing about football. Literally nothing. But whatever, that is besides the point. They sat on the couch with me all day long. All fucking day. They have never been to Vegas before and they have spent the last three days sitting on my fucking couch, using my fucking Xbox, to watch my fucking Netflix like the two lazy fucks they are. Whatever. If you want to be to fat fucks eating fast food all day and shit that’s fine. Be my fucking guest. Monday is where it went real south for me. I wake up for work at 6:30 am. This guy comes down stairs and asks me if he can play my Xbox games. So I give him the fucking games… before 7 in the morning… and he’s a fucking chatterbox. This guys got more to say than 10/10 WINS news giving me the world in 22 minutes. Like fuck dude its 7 in the morning, shut the fuck up. I come home from work and the gym around 645 pm and there they both are, watching fucking Disney movies like two fuckin mamalukes. This motherfucker has a down blanket on the couch with him and it looks as if they had a fucking naked pillow fight in the house and got feathers everywhere. It doesn’t even seem to phase him when I ask what the feathers were from. He just responds, “Its an old down blanket, that always happens.” He doesn’t even ask where the vacuum is. So I just walk away and jump in the shower. I come out and he asks me if i want to go with them to get “shrimp alfredo” from Walmart. I say, “that’s gonna be a no from me.” So he starts asking me what wine I think would go with that. So I respond with, “maybe a pinot grigio or a riesling” like I’m some fucking wine connoisseur or something. He then asks me if I know if they sell that at Walmart. I just look at him like he’s a fucking moron and say, “I don’t know but there’s liquor stores everywhere here, it’s Vegas.” They return 2 hours later with moscato and chardonnay. Two dumb fucks. I leave the living room at this point because I’m over them at this point. I’m sitting in my room and I keep hearing someone opening and closing my fucking bathroom door. I rent this fucking bathroom. It’s mine. I don’t share it. My toothbrush and everything that is bathroom related sits on my counter. I’m not about to deal with people shitting and pissing in my bathroom and then washing their hands over my stuff. But here’s the kicker, they weren’t washing their hands. You would here the toilet flush and 2 seconds later the bathroom door opens. After the fifth time they use my bathroom in two hours I’m enraged. So I go out to investigate. I go in to the kitchen, which is an absolute disaster from the cooking “shrimp alfredo”. You know what I see on the fucking kitchen counter? A bottle of fucking X-Lax. This motherfuckers girlfriend is drinking X-Lax dumping the disgusting contents of her body into my toilet every fucking 20 minutes. At this point I lose it. I go in my room and just get this pain in my stomach because I’m so angry. This feeling I get usually coincides with me wanting to bury someone in the middle of death valley. So instead I decide to be passive aggressive, because I don’t have a lease here and I can’t deal with getting kicked out of my house before February 1st (the day I plan on moving the fuck out). I hid all of the toilet paper in my room. I don’t know how all of you would deal with this situation. Suggestions would be greatly appreciated. This took me about an hour to write and these two fucks are still sitting on my fucking couch like a combined Jabba the fucking Hutt eating McDonald’s and shrimp alfredo, sucking down a 5 dollar bottle of Moscato from Walmart. SO god fucking help me not end up in prison by Friday, because that would really put a damper on my weekend.
I’m definitely kidding. So what we’re really going to discuss today is sort of about what I do for a “living”. Most of what I do as a speech pathologist here in Vegas is focused on people’s actual voices. I also have a few “neuro” patients, whether it be strokes or brain injuries. I enjoy working with these patients as they are often very motivated. In the three months I’ve been here, I have really began to notice that patients with these injuries have zero understanding of their deficits. I mean like zip. For some reason, they know there is a problem, but if you asked what it was, you probably wouldn’t get a great answer. This is something I learned about in school, but it’s still surprising to see how real it is. Well anyway, I had a patient call the office who decided to discontinue therapy. Sometimes that’s perfectly alright, when the deficits aren’t bad. Let’s think about this though. These people basically stop therapy like it is this optional thing. They still have pretty significant deficits. Imagine someone who has a memory deficit because of a stroke cooking dinner. What happens when they go to broil a steak and take a seat in the living room and leave the stove on broil for an hour? Use your imagination but it’s not going to turn out well. People refuse this therapy like it really is optional. A stroke literally destroys a part of your brain. Like how the fuck does your family let you discontinue. Break your shoulder into pieces and tell your mother you decided you don’t want to get it fixed. It is essentially the same fucking thing. But hey, who the fuck am I to talk. You can talk to some of my friends from New Paltz. I believe there is still a picture of me naked, ripping a cast off of my broken wrist and hand. I don’t even have a brain injury and I still do dumb shit. I guess that’s the human factor in all of this and not necessarily because of the brain injury. I’ll be the first to tell you it doesn’t take much to convince yourself or someone else that you’re doing the “right” thing or the thing that makes sense. I’ll be the first to tell you, my bad decisions heavily outweigh my good ones. Maybe one day the scales will even out, but I still have a ton of stupid shit I plan on doing, so stay tuned mother fuckers.
I used to work in a restaurant so I’ve heard the most bizarre requests out there. Usually, the requests in some way benefit the person. I get it, we all want the most we can get for our money. A patient was telling me about how she went out to lunch at one of the casinos this week. It was one of the buffets. Before I tell you about her complaint, let’s talk about how she steals from the buffet. She told me that she and her husband go to the buffet and fill Ziploc bags with the food from the buffet. She said they mostly steal the meat because then they have meat for the week. So let’s talk about what she complained to the waiter about. She called the waiter over because she couldn’t finish all of the water in her glass. She could have asked for a to-go cup but no. She asked the waiter if they could think about getting smaller glasses because they are wasting water. Like, really?! The fucking water glasses that’s the problem. It’s a fucking buffet. They are literally wasting an incredibly large amount of food and you’re worried about the sips of water. Like what the fuck. Why do people even think of things like that. I hope when I’m older I don’t pick things like that to be annoyed with. Although, it seems like I’m heading that way with this blog. Stay tuned..