LOOKOUT


no, no,no, get up off the floor - i was just saying my name.

I can't tell you my real name. I'm in the Vic. Wit. program. I don't really live in Ohio, either. :ninja:

Ow! Disillusionment! But you DO live in pizza, right?

Right.

did I miss the poem or the joke?

apparently we in the cellar are very immature and rude, so angus has deleted all of his posts. i think you can still free to send all of your money to the grand pubah of the utopian society though.

If you really care, the poem kinda went:

I wish life was more like yogurt
It's a shame I'm not Humphrey Bogart.

Like that.

You misunderstood;
not Angus O'Mann
it's Angry Old Man
with that beatnik attitude, *my poetry is cool, you just aren't hip enough to dig it, square*. :cool:
I've seen similar attitudes in the philosophy thread.

My favorite poem was written by a friend of mine for his English class back in about 1973, when we were all drug-addled hippies in high school.

"Drugs...I need 'em like a summer's day.
Get down...boogie. Oh fwow, man.
Give me drugs or I'll kill you."

Needless to say, my friend went on to be a rock star during the 80's as bass player for the Rainmakers. He was long on sarcasm and short on being terribly serious.

IIRC Angus O'Mann said sarcasm was EASY, man. I'm gonna so totally remember that.
:elkgrin:

Well, since you erased your poem, I'll just add my own:

My shift was so ruthless and evil last night,
I came home and I cried ‘till I slept.
The way people treated me just wasn’t right,
I got tips that were low and completely inept,
I lost money, my feet hurt, I wept and I wept.

I got an eight dollar tip on a hundred buck tab,
On the next table - ten on the same
It’s as if they took a knife and proceeded to stab
Through my soul and my spirit, my heart and my brain,
I thought I gave them great service- it’s really a shame.

I smiled, I chatted, I walked back and forth,
I was prompt, polite and so attentive,
I got orders correct and was a good food whore,
I was screwed like one too- that’s inventive.
I thought tips were my supposed incentive.

I gave one table a check that was ten bucks too cheap,
That’s because it wasn’t even theirs.
But they left and my pockets, I dug into deep,
Lost my tip and ten bucks- but I gained some gray hairs.
That’s the third reason I fell asleep drenched in tears.

Then I waited on a couple from Fall River, I think,
A macho man and his dippy, mute ho.
They wanted for nothing- always had a drink,
I gave them great service- I really thought so,
At the end, though, I didn’t receive any dough.

I got screwed and abused like a cheap gutter whore,
-Tried to please them with all that I had,
All in vain, though, because I am still very poor,
And I’ve lost faith in people, it’s sad,
I’m just used up, stressed out and raving mad.

Stacey, I can honestly say that not only do I enjoy your posts, but I thoroughly enjoy your poems, too. I know you're stressed out, used up and raving mad, but your also very, very funny. :)

I second that! :thumbsup:

good work staceyv. and i really do believe you need to look for a new restaurant to work at. this one seems to draw a fat lot of losers.

My coworkers seem to find amusement in my ravings, too. They think it's funny when I flip out and start swearing like I have Tourette's syndrome. At least SOMEthing good comes out of my twisted mental state...