And my Indian name is . . .

BUBBLICIOUS. Or at least that's what the movers down the street called me yesterday morning. I can only assume this is a good thing, judging from the amount of staring at my ass that was going on and the calls of Hey, Baby.

I dyed my hair black again. Not really a big shock to anyone, I'm sure. But this time, strangely, people in the neighborhood have started addressing me in Spanish before English. Huh? I must have gotten a tan or something and can't see it myself.

I am exhausted after 12+ hours of go go go, almost all on my feet moving and doing. And I have to do it all over again tomorrow. At least my weekday job won't involve "special" customers or lugging huge buckets of ice (although my arms should soon be looking hella good).

Please remind me to tell you all about "special" customers at a later date. It deserves its own post. Or maybe just a post about what waiters actually do and how to adequately compensate them for their services and how to behave in a restaurant.

Yeah, that's it. Too tired for much else right now and feet are protesting. Not sure what they're protesting or why they would care about my typing, but I really think I should try to appease them. Maybe with some wine. Feet like wine, right?