Thursday Afternoon

Jesse asked me today whether the sun on my hip was a marijuana leaf. I mean, okay, yes, he could only see a sliver of it while I was stretching up to get something, but apparently he saw the rays and thought, oh, marijuana leaf! I had this momentary breakdown in anything resembling sense and gave the poor guy the dead-eyed glare that I normally reserve only for people who couldn't fire me at a moment's notice. Sarah knows about this look - this one has melted faces before. It's no joke. I remembered my station and played it off, but my confidence was incredibly shaken for a few minutes there. It doesn't look like a pot leaf. I know that. But still, the fact that he thought so at all worries me a little bit. I've got no problem with people smoking pot, but getting it tattooed? Absolutely not. That's legitimately one of the trashiest tattoo ideas I've ever heard.

Speaking of tattoo ideas . . . this city is bad for me. I keep coming up with things I want to get done. And two or three of them are legitimate, easily concealable, and cute. Not to mention cheap. That's bad news, because that means that getting them wouldn't be such a stretch this summer. It's New York, guys. There are surely some of the best tattoo artists in the world up here.

I served Jenny Slate a large skim latte today. Jenny Slate, one of the newer additions to Saturday Night Live, and one of the actually-funny ones. She ordered, and although I recognized her, I just figured she had "one of those faces." Sinclair made a special point of making the latte himself - and although I'm still not considered a good drink maker, he's started letting me do stuff more lately. After she left, Sinclair turns around and goes, "I make her lattes." Very distinctly. I laugh and am like, mmkay why? And Sinclair says, "because that's Jenny Slate, and I have a wicked crush on her." Ohh. I'm still in the Columbia mentality, I think - I see someone who looks famous and I'm like, "oh, that looks like a famous person" rather than "oh, that's a famous person." Sinclair informed me that a decent number of famous people live around here, including Alexis Bledel. He also told me that she's kind of a bitch, but I'll choose to ignore that statement.

Boys don't take rejection well. This is something I know well, but even so, I typically try to think the best, and that if I just do it really nicely, that it'll be fine. Mr. John Bryan Davila showed up in Naidre's today, but patently refused to look at me and didn't order anything. After the third message he sent, I figured the right thing to do would be to let him know as nicely as possibly that I wasn't interested. I thought I'd done a pretty good job of being gentle, but apparently not good enough. Do guys not understand that they could make situations less awkward if they just weren't so awkward about the situations?

Five days until I come home. I found out today that I actually have to get my shifts covered myself, which I hadn't expected - I was guessing that my full-disclosure early on would mean that Janice would take care of stuff for me. Apparently I had assumed too much, and am now scrambling to get shifts covered for a flight I already have tickets for. I'm coming home one way or the other, dears. But the amount of doing it takes might be a little more significant than I'd expected.

So the blog got locked down - you noticed this. I need some thoughts on this, though. I locked it down in case Davila could track the link back to my blog and read derogatory things, or in case one of my co-workers would stumble on it and see what I really thought about them. But I also don't like that the blog isn't out there for people to stumble on, or for anonymous readers to check out. I know you guys don't really comment often at all, but let me know what you think about this situation. I'm willing to open it back up again, maybe on the condition that I'd start veiling the names a little bit more or something. Poll time!