All posts tagged diary

Keep me in your heart

Published May 28, 2013 by Dorothy


Some things that people find difficult, I find them easy; it’s the things that are easy to everyone that I find incredibly hard.

Melancholy, all those thoughts like a screen of fine gossamer between me and my life, how could I see clearly through it? I know now what I have to do: I’m applying to go back to Florida.

I am working towards my new degree slowly but surely; I’m absolutely unsure of what will come next for me and at least that’s cheering me up a bit. I could be in New Zealand or Australia or in Orlando or in Canada in the next five years, I’ve absolutely no idea. The only thing I know is that I want to put my suitcases down somewhere and not move again. I’m planning that for the next five years, if that is possible.

Planning to go away is my everyday motivation. That and looking at cool pictures like the one above and thinking about cool trips I’ve done around the world.

I’m getting my fiddle back in two month. He also has helped me soothe my nerves when I was going through difficult stages. I miss that thing ūüôā

and I’m definitely getting that pretty little Hilfiger bag, a girl need that to cheer up! (That and lots of dodgy cocktails and sparkling wine).

I’m still revising my novel and when I’ll be done with that it’ll cheer me up for a while also! (I’ll feel like this best selling author until I start getting rejection letters and after that I can still tell myself that I’m too brilliant for my time! All positive.)

I still don’t have a good title for it. I have no idea what to call the beast!


Stay tuned,

I shall be back on the blog a little more often for updates.




Days Go By – Happy New Year!

Published January 7, 2012 by Dorothy

Our restaurant :)

After five months,¬†I,along with¬†all the group of people who arrived in June have been promoted from bakers to “Commis”,¬†we no longer work in the Bakery shop; we now work in the restaurant.¬†That pretty much¬†means we are now¬†“half waiters” in the¬†aforementioned French restaurant. We don’t talk to customers¬†so much anymore¬†or take¬†their orders, neither do we introduce ourselves to them or give them advices¬†about wine, or which dish should they go for; that’s the waiters’ jobs.¬†But we do bring them their food, reset tables after they leave, prepair soups, keep stocks full…

On my last day of 2011 I was at work…

  • 8h30: Joan Jett shouts about her bad reputation. I turn off my alarm clock and go back to sleep straight away.
  • 8h40:” WE’RE LIVING IN THE PAST , IT’S A NEW GENERA-TION!!!AND I DON’T REALLY CARE…” turn off alarm, go back to sleep again.
  • 8h50: “OH MY BAD REPUTATION…” “err, hem hem” my roomie says.”can you please turn that off? this racket has been keeping me up for half an hour!!” I turn off Joan Jett and heave myself out of my bed.
  • 9h20: In the bus with all the other commis, Pixie, Trainer one and revolver Eyes are across the alley from me and seem about to fall asleep as well. I crack open the “Monster” energy drink (for those of you who do not live in America, a Monster is pretty much like a Red Bull, except in a ginormous can and it comes in several different tastes and for different people like “special low carbs” or “zero calories”. There’s even a Monster morning drink “special pisshead who was shitfaced the night before” which provides not only energy, but also rehydratation.Anyway.)
  • 9h 40: Buy second Monster from vending machine. Will need it. Notice all of my coworker also have a can in hand. Today we will need energy as we are working until the next year.)
  • 10h10: Finish Myriam’s Monster. Am turning into Monster junkie.
  • 10h30: Half mad with all the Monster energy drink abuse, I start working, or rather, running around the restaurant like a madwomen carrying racks of glasses, buckets of ice, and throwing coffee pots around. Am teamed with Revolver Eyes and Cha (have I ever mentioned this girl in my posts? she is from that same “June 7th group” as me, Princess Sara and Bernadette).
  • 11h30:Peggy, who overslept, probably on the phone to one of her exotic lovers from the other side of the world (heehee she’ll punch me for writing that tomorrow morning) turns up.
  • 12h: The restaurant has filled up to the brim with happy tourists.
  • 12h45: Happy tourists have finished their meals and gradually start leaving the premises. We start running around like headless chickens resetting their tables and bringing in loads of stock. (note to self: try to remember that Revolver Eyes is not the boss of me anymore .Can actually stop saying “Sir yes Sir!” when she asks for something and do not need to execute orders in the next nanosecond after they have been given ūüėÄ )
  • 15h: Time for New Years Eve buffet: I shovel food in my mouth and head back to the buzz station so the girls can take their turns at having lunch. Rush rush, we have never been so busy.
  • 17h:A huge cramp curiously and not so conveniently situated in my backside. Very weird. I hadn’t thought I’d been using that part of my body so much that day. Impossible to walk fast, though, and carrying weight is getting difficult. I abandon the stock duty to Cha for a while.
  • 21h:Backside is getting better. Relay an exhausted Revolver Eyes at stock duty.
  • 00h: We have all been allowed outside to watch the fireworks! So beautiful!My right buttock though, is pretty much paralyzed; the cramp has come back in a whole new super painful reedition.
  • 00h50: Girls are taking a few pictures as we are closing down the restaurant, and I sit on the floor. “whassup, you need to go pee?” Myriam asks. “I think my right buttock is paralyzed” I tell her and all the girls burst out laughing and ask to take pictures because they have never seen a paralyzed buttock before and that will be a memory to keep.
  • 3h: In bed with heat patch on my backside. Am persuaded it will never feel the same again.

Stay tuned for more adventures!

m xx

New York, New York (part two)

Published December 20, 2011 by Dorothy

If you haven’t read the first part of this story, it’s here. So I will proceed with my list of things to avoid:

Thing # 4: do not bring an under motivated Bernadette to museum or monuments visits

  • I found the Ellis Island museum was a¬†wonderful place, the air was¬†still charged with history, I loved those expos of personal belongings and family pictures of first immigrants. Bernadette’s reaction : “what are these pictures of weird old dudes?” and then “what are you looking to these old clothes and shits for?” “Well, I’m looking at the tags to see where they are from.Look, this is from Ireland. It has¬†the Donegal blazon¬†on it!” “great. Now you know where that granny got her dirty stinking coat from, can we go to the food court? I’m starving.”
  • Atop of the Empire State Building right on the minute we got up: “Great we been here so let’s take the elevator back down!” “But wait!” I said,¬†waving the map of “New York landmarks from up above” I’d just bought at the 368731897435735th floor souvenir boutique. “I want to check out the Brooklyn Bridge! And the Rockefeller-” “okay okay!let’s get this over with and then we’ll get some tucker¬†at Five Guys!” (he sighed, convinced I’d felt obligated to buy it when the shop assistant had shown it to me) “You know you didn’t have to buy this stupid useless map! I reckon that guy who made you buy it¬†ripped you off!” “no He didn’t!” I replied, “I wanted the map!” I dragged poor Bernadette all the way around the roof¬†to see NYC south, NYC north, NYC east and NYC west from above. He seemed totally exhausted by the time we got to Five Guys.

Thing # 5 : Do not pick out the one taxi driver who will get himself lost

So one morning I decided to go on my own to Madame Tussaud while Bernadette was sleeping in; I was supposed to meet Bernadette at twelve thirty so we would visit Harlem in the afternoon, But time ran so quickly so I decided to take a cab versus getting back home using the exhausting NYC subway. First,¬†everything seemed to be¬†just fine, then¬†the driver¬†said he was going to take some road that turned out to be closed; after that he panicked, braked on the highway then ended up driving around in circles waving desperately to other taxi drivers out of his window, shouting “HOW CAN I GET TO NEWARK??!!”. He finally found the way but once in Newark he¬†go lost once again!¬†“Er, we’re supposed to go left!” I said. “Are you sure? No I think you’re wrong” he told me but a few miles later, he pulled over, stopped a car with a bemused old granny in it, and asked for directions, then turned back around. “she said this way but I’m not sure…” I saw the familiar sign of the Burger king that was only a few blocks away from the guest house and asked in a shrilly voice to be dropped off¬†here right now. I’d spent money on a cab ride, but the journey had been waaaayyy longer than a train ride. I grumbled about this and managed to get 20 bucks off the fare.

A cab ride to the airport : 52 $. Checking in luggage : 25 $. breakfast at the airport : 7 $. a 4 days adventure in NYC that sound like the scenario of the next Ashton Kutcher movie : Priceless.

stay tuned!! mxx

Born to be Wild

Published October 7, 2011 by Dorothy

Some times earlier, I said I would put more videos and pictures on this blog. Seeing as I don’t have so much time to write a new article now (although I have plenty to tell- articles will be coming shortly) I will share this short¬†video of our trip to the everglades, (will tell you all about that and the NYC trip later on)¬†Caution, Aligators!

In the sun

Published September 16, 2011 by Dorothy

dine-in theatre!

Since the last time I wrote, I :

  • Called in sick.¬†I started feeling weird in the middle of a training (was trainer drinks)¬†and an afternoon rush. Decided to wait and see.

Waited and started to see stars dancing in front of my eyes, and had to ask manager for a break. Manager sent me home after threatening to get paramedics; I vehemently refused: I very much dislike hospitals and medical care centers, and anything that looks even remotely like a doctor.(Well, except McDreamy and McSteamy. But you know what I mean).

Manager was concerned I wouldn’t make it home but I’d rather crawl home than be driven home¬†in a paramedics van with all the creepy smells and machines and the men asking¬†embarrassing questions.¬†“What have¬†you had for brekkie¬†?” (twizzlers¬†and a Twinkie, with a dash of coke zero) “and¬†do you do sports?” (watching the pretty NFL players on TV, it’s the closest to doing sports I get these days; now that I have to take a year long¬†break from dancing.) “and when have you last had a general check up?” (mmm all I can remember about my last check up at the doctor’s is that mommy took me. And I was wearing Little Mermaid undies. Oh and the doctor gave me those awesome multicolored sweets… I guess it’s been a while). I got home, and The next morning when I woke up,¬†I was still feeling dizzy and weird, so I called the day a day before the day begun and phoned work to say I wasn’t coming.

  • had a bizarro nightmare:¬† I went straight back to bed after I phoned work and fell fast asleep very fast.

My mind continued the story by itself, I dreamt it was the next morning and I was going to work; and as soon as I arrived I heard Princess Sara screaming his head off in the kitchen just as loud as he did¬†in the dinosaur ride in Animal Kingdom. But when I got to the kitchen, Smily Emmy blocked the way. “He’s¬†in despair¬†because he didn’t get the message that you called in sick yesterday” she said in her southern voice. Next Marshall kicked me out of the Bakery yelling that I was “as dumb as a¬†fucking hermit crab” for not calling in sick, even though I promised him I did call. Woke up in a panic. Took me a good five minutes to realise¬†neither Emmy nor Marshall nor Princess¬†Sara were here. How¬†obsessed with work am I??¬†Am thinking about¬†seeking professional help.

  • moved¬†apartments:¬†moved from my apartment with six flatmates to another one where we are only two. So great.

I now have a huge balcony and added privacy. Transporting all my stuff from one flat to the other was the hardest part: my old flat and the new one are at the two opposite extremities of the residence.

I have so much things, when I only came with two cases! I suspect stuff multiplies by itself. But then again, I also suspected that money disintegrated by itself in my wallet; there might be a correlation¬†here, I wonder? The thing is, I never notice myself buying stuff, and I always feel that I don’t have enough!¬†Must investigate matter of utmost importance befor¬†bankruptcy occurs.

Anyway, it took me the whole afternoon to go back and forth with bags and¬†suitcases, then towards the end, when I was getting out of the old flat with the last of my things…

“What are you doing exactly?” two boys that work in the French restaurant were getting in some supercool Mustang and eyeing me quizzically.

I replied (trying to pull the door shut with my foot whilst carrying my smelly shoes in a Victoria’s Secret bag, Barb’s bag that I was supposed to give back to her 587514587452 years ago full of books, and two suitcases filled with food) :

“Erm…I’m moving out!”

Then they offered to drop me off at the new apartment; I would have cried with gratitude. Actually, moving homes in a Mustang is pretty cool…Who needs poxy moving vans ? they are so last year ūüôā

  • passed¬†DATA (Drug, Alcohol and Traffic Awareness)¬†exam: If you want to get a local¬†driver’s license, you have to first have a 4 hrs¬†DATA course and pass the exam, then a traffic laws exam, and then the driver’s license.

I doesn’t take long at all, and it’ll be great to have it. Basically the course aims at getting some sense into you if you’re some eejit who drives like Vin Diesel.¬†It also points out all the risks of driving under the influence, ¬†and what alcohol does to your body anyway. I read it all with the greatest interest while taking swigs of my scotch and coke. I passed the exam with almost no mistakes!

  • discovered dine in cinema:¬†Do you like watching¬†films on your recliner, while having a snack? Then dine in cinema is for you!

Supersoft¬†leather seats that recline, a table in front of you¬†loaded with the most delightful american food! we went to see “Crazy stupid love” with Calimero,¬†we loved it!¬†watching Ryan Gosling’s abs while drinking ice cool coke zero and having cuppy¬†cakes, the three coolest things ever at once! I am not going back to France, sad country deprived of dine in cinemas, I’m sasking for residency here¬†ūüėÄ What do you mean, that’s no valid reason to ask for a green card?

stay tuned!! mxx

Travelin’ Band

Published July 31, 2011 by Dorothy

Everywhere, everything,huge.

Skyscrapers that lauch themselves high up, trying to reach up to the clouds; bodies sculpted, modified, touched up so much that their sheer, unnatural¬†perfection no longer looks human; ¬†houses painted insolent colors, buttery yellow, mint green, Pepto Bismol pink; restaurants, tables loaded with impossibly huge chunks of meat and mountains of golden chips; margaritas so huge and strong that your head starts spinning when you’re not even halfway through the glass.

That’s Miami for you!

We arrived early in the afternoon  and checked in our hotel. First good surprise: The reception and bar had this cool, retro vibe and the suite was really nice.  We explored the minibar and basket of snacks, and Barbs and myself found some cool shades, they  were plastic and had the American flag on them!!

“This is sooo fun!” Barbs declared. “Let’s bring them to the beach and take fun pictures!”

“Hum, are they free?” the two boys asked.

“Course they are!” I told them, ripping the plastic package off the shades and trying them on. “They couldn’t ask¬†us to to pay for that! Look, it’s just cheap plastic.”

“Oh. Right.” they said.

There were two sofa and a giant bed, in which all four of us could fit! But we didn’t feel like trying it just yet : we were a few yards away from the beach and after a quick lunch at a French bakery, we directly went for a swim in the ocean. The sea was hot like a bath and I stayed in there with Barbs in there for hours, after what we joined the boys who had slopped down on their towels and were now ¬†fast asleep on the beach.

“Come oooooon!” Barbs¬†shouted enthusiastically in their direction, startling them both awake. “Let’s take a picture with those funny America sunglasses, it will be so fuuuuun!”

She¬†reminded me of Michelle in American Pie a bit. The boys both grumbled vaguely than what they found funnn right now was sleeping and so Barbs and I took photos of each other¬† with¬†the shades, and then we headed for the hotel because we had been told it was happy hour between 7 pm and 8 pm and we didn’t want to miss a minute of it.

About the happy hour: I thought the free cocktails were going to be like the “shakeitbaby” and the “sexyboyz” in the Chillers: those are only worth one dollar per glass but there’s one drop of tequila¬†for one gallon of margarita flavoured slush, so after wasting ten dollars and remaining completely sober, you have to go to the other bar in the Chillers, the one that serves normal drinks,¬†and get plastered on¬†proper concentrated alcohol.But in the free cocktails of the hotel,there was so much alcohol and so little juice that they were almost shots! after about five or six of those each¬†(ten each for the boys) I started to get kinda wobbly on my feet and so did the others; the Adam Rodriguez looking barman, spotting that we were behaving kinda oddly¬†eyed us suspiciously and snatched the “free drinks”sign away¬†as soon as he got the chance, probably worried that we were going to pull a rolling stones on him and destroy the place in a drunken fury.

When we left for the restaurant, we were completely gone over the hill and far away off our faces. We walked along Ocean drive and all the mixed sounds,scents and colors and lights made me feel like I was on some sort of a Las Vegas Parano trip. We stopped at a restaurant and we absent mindedly ordered three king sized margaritas (with two Corona bottles upside down in the glass for Alex) and they were like, huge! I think there was at least a liter of margarita in there, no kidding! I kept drinking and drinking out of it and I could barely see the level of margarita going down! this was the best margarita ever.

Then we ordered the meal.

“How much is the special plate of king sized rumsteak sprinkled with caviar and Veuve Clicquot sauce ?” Dorian asked the waitress.

“35769183685741368 dollars” the waitress said.

“oh! and how much the giant fresh lobster ?”

“hum, 86953987 dollars sir!”

I though he would them shrug and have a modest 3 pound steak or something that was  at a reasonable price but he enthusiastically went for the lobster that cost a zillion dollars! After fifteen minutes, it started raining. Not a drizzle,but heavy, tropical rain, complete with thunder. It took us quite a while to react.

“Oooooh it rains in my margarita” I said, drunkenly.

“It rains WATER.” Barbs blinked, stoned.

“Should we get like, out of the rain or something?” Alex asked.

‘Yeah, there’s like, a canopy there” rain was bouncing on Dorian’s head. “we could maybe go there, what do you think?”

“yeah, let’s do that! I’ll be funnn!” Barbs vaguely said.

After a good ten minutes of slow thinking, we finally pulled the table under the canopy.

The food was pretty good, the bill, less good: with three giant margaritas worth 30 dollars,plus Dorian’s supersized lobster in Bollinger sauce or something equally extravagant, and all the appetizers and maxi burgers and¬†everything we ordered, the bill was:350 dollars! I don’t think I’ve ever managed¬†such a high restaurant bill ever. Ah well. Youth and pissedness are our excuses!

That night we couldn’t find a place to hang out big enough for all our coolness to fit in (furthermore, the boys were wearing shorts and¬†flip-flops¬†so we couldn’t get inside any place that mattered ūüėĬ† ) so we went to a couple of pubs and then simply went to the beach to take a midnight bath and take some pictures of us in the deserted rescue patrol cabins pretending we were Mitch Buchannon and Pamela.

The next day was also terrific: We went shopping for souvenirs and I got myself THE tacky shirt : “f*** me I’m famous, Miami beach”. I hesitated between that and “Bitch, I was in Miami”, but I decided for this one, it’s tacky in a classy kind of way. Anyway, this is the right shirt if you want to get rid of your mom or your nanna for a couple of hours: If I wear this in front of them I’m pretty sure they’ll faint!! Also I can wear it in the Chillers: It will be assorted with my cocktails heehee.


PS: actually the bleedin shades were ten dollars!!!

Gotta Get Along Without You Now (arrival,part 3)

Published July 3, 2011 by Dorothy

Day 3 :

I arrived to discover I would be trained to use the cash register. Handling money is always a bit stressful; so I stressed all along the day as you would expect from me. I wasn’t with my usual trainer but this new one was okay too; especially as I kept panicking and messing everything up, I must have been kinda annoying, but Trainer 2 did not say anything about that.¬†I think if I ever¬†have to train someone like me I’ll resign ūüôā

I did every mistake I could possibly do:

  • ¬†thrown away receipt I had to keep for paperwork (“it’s okay, it’s only your first day” Trainer 2 sighed. Before overturning the bin and gesturing for me to help him find the missing ticket.)
  • charged a grandad for 270 chocolate croissants when he had only ordered two. “oh f**k” trainer 2 said, then looking¬†from my ¬†face growing panicky¬†to the ticket saying the grandad had been charged 695472729.65 $:¬†¬† ¬†“herm, t’s’okay, don’t stress. I’ll sort this out. Hold on to the register and no more catastrophes for 5 minutes while I’m looking for the manager?”
  • Drove the coffee machine crazy;I punched the wrong button and it served me a whole liter of decaf even though I kept shouting at it to stop pouring coffee this instant.
  • Somehow managed to make 11¬† dollars disappear from the till; whe counted and counted the money again about¬†a dozen times¬†after we closed the bakery¬†(poor trainer 2 stoically helped me and smiled through the whole process) but we still couldn’t find it.The manager gave me the¬†cross looks¬†but let us go unscathed, ordering us to clock out.

So now that’s it. I’m trained at every job in the bakery! no more trainers! though I’d probably need some more training!

later that day I met trainer¬†2 at a party and he toasted me,calling me his¬†little “full of shit checkout girl” ! humhum. He¬†probably shares my views on my needing more training.

stay tuned!!!


%d bloggers like this: