Have you seen the ads for PrEP? I’m sure PrEP is a good thing or at least is meant to be. It serves is purpose, of course. I like to think all people and things do. Although, I’m still trying to figure out Kathie Lee Gifford’s purpose. I’m sure there is one but 30 years later and I still can’t seem to find one.
What if nobody taught you what to believe? What if God or whoever you believe in said, “I mean, this is my thinking but hey…You need to think for yourself. You don’t need me to tell you what’s right and what’s wrong.”
I went to culinary school. To get a job as a pastry chef. To do what I love. To present my gift of pastry to the world. What they don’t tell you in culinary school, I will tell you here. Your gift of pastry skills and hospitality skills in general will be used to appease angry assholes that want you to kiss their ass. When I left school I quickly found out that culinary school should have taught me how to kiss ass. First off, your talent, nobody gives a shit about. How fast can you give me what I want? That’s what the guest and your boss wants to know. Second, the pay is pathetic considering how much school and training costs. People want what they want and want it now. Quantity over quality. This is what we’ve become. I’ve had guests where I work demand chocolate covered strawberries in January. I’ve let people know that it’s not wise and offered better options that I could do. No. They want strawberries and they want them now. …
You see a lot and I mean a lot of people picking their noses in New York. Most people would be turned off by this. I find it the utmost entertaining, way more than I should.
I’ve learned throughout the years that no one makes it on their own. No one. I don’t care what a cold hearted bastard you are. No one made it to where they are on their own.
Because today is the day people. I can’t believe this is happening to me. I’m so nervous. Or am I excited? This could be really good or really bad. I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I was pacing back and forth, biting my nails more than usual. Yikes!!
When I started out writing like a mad fool in the fifth grade, I was like a runaway train. I was full speed ahead with ideas just pouring out like a broken faucet. NO! Like a runaway train.