I don't often drink coffee, and I don't like energy drinks. I suck down Diet Coke in probably pancreas-cancer causing quantities, but that caffeine level doesn't seem to affect me. A regular coffee from Starbucks does nothing for me, even when filled with the insane amounts of sugar required for me to enjoy it. To get any benefit from caffeine, I have to have a lot of it in a concentrated form, which is why I don't often utilize my espresso machine--I don't actually want to cultivate a serious caffeine habit.
Today, though, I knew I wasn't going to make it through my shift without some artificial energy. So I fired up The Machine and made eight shots of peppermint espresso. I chugged half of it, iced and with cream, on the way to work. The rest I took with me in case I crashed hard--Friday nights are always so long, even though I got someone to take the closing part for me. I even used a "no sidework" coupon I had, so I thought I'd be home and in bed hours and hours ago. Ha! Of course I got a table of hellion children that it took me 45 minutes to clean up afterward.
Anyway, I was a freaking nut the entire night. I think I managed to act fairly normal around my tables, but in the back was another story:
- At one point I was idly flipping my hands around and someone asked what I was doing; I promptly told her I was swimming and proceeded to breast-stroke, freestyle, and butterfly back and forth across the kitchen.
- I took a roll of printer paper, held on to the end, and threw it at a friend--who didn't catch it, and it rolled halfway across the restaurant while I scampered after it giggling madly.
- The same friend and I were dancing in the front of house at one point. I had my arms full of dishes and was headbanging.
- For the sake of this one, let's pretend my name is Jennifer. For some reason religion came up, and I said I'm a "Jenniferian" (with a muscle-man pose, I don't know why) and proceeded to lay out the tenets of my faith: thou shalt love cats, thou shalt feel free to lust after thy neighbor if he's hot enough, assorted other bullcrap.
- I remember at some point declaring that Bitter Divorced Man "will slap a bitch!"
- I kept singing/humming bits of Stephen Lynch songs at people who knew it. My friend Rachel was particularly horrified by some of the lines of "Waiting".
- Another time I sidled up by another friend, holding a fork. She tried not to look at me but she knew I was up to something, so eventually she did. I licked the fork. Why? I don't know. But she cracked up.
With that, my friends, I'm taking the weekend off. I'm not even going to think about work again until Monday. See you then!