“You can’t buy true love with money. But you sure can buy high-quality fake love with it.” – Dave Barry

I would like to point out that Dave Barry is a genius. I also must point out that most of my humor style is derived from his work. Please don’t sue me, Mr. Barry. Collections of his syndicated newspaper column can be found at your local library, and if you enjoy laughing at all, read them. Now.

Today I learned that you cannot judge the quality of a tipper by their cover. By this I mean, no matter how rude or scary a customer is-even if they are physically sprouting horns from their forehead and trails of sulfurous smoke leak from their nostrils-there is the same chance of them giving you that coveted 20% tip as the saintly old lady across the dining hall.

Tonight I took a large table led by a glaring, snobbish wannabe aristocrat. His very presence at the table made me screw up mildly several times, including but not limited to serving chicken instead of fish, breaking a cork in a bottle of wine, and flirting shamelessly with his wife. Ha! That was a joke at the end there. I NEVER break corks. However, when I retrieved the bill at the end of their meal, it was a shiny 20% tip. Go figure.

Contrast this to the kindly old ladies who frequently come to dine, laugh at my little jokes, call me hansom, then forget that America actually did make it through the Great Depression and tip me 4%. The only depression was the one in my head, created by banging it repeatedly against solid wall-like objects after I saw their tip.

Moving on.

I would like to know who is reading this blog, and in the likely event that you have your own that updates regularly, what is it’s address so I can add it to my list? I promise to reply to your posts if you reply to mine. Pretty please?

And a note to anyone who is not a real-life friend: your comments are quite welcome, and I appreciate you reading my rants. That said, please be kind and civil in all that you write here. Arguments and rebuttals are encouraged. Flaming is not. Especially if it is against one of my readers who happens to be a real-life friend. I WILL have the last word if it comes to that.

Final thought: now that I’m done playing World of Warcraft, what game should I take up? Suggestions? I am quite aware the Halo 3 comes out in November. I hope you are all aware that I intend to dominate all. Resistance is futile. Nothing shall prevail against my terrible SMG fury.

Except Elizabeth…she tends to prevail over everything I’ve got. Except when she’s folding socks.

I certainly don’t mind.

*Ahem* Your attention please…thank you.

I’m back.

Thank you for that rousing welcome. You may all take your seats, except those who apparently wet themselves with excitement over my return. You folks may head straight to the restroom, and not come out.

It is great to be back; I missed all my blogging friends very much. On the same truthful note, I also missed the allergies of the Willamette Valley that transform me from an amazingly hansom person to an amazingly hansom person producing boogers the size of small coconuts. Perhaps some of you are catching on to the dripping sarcasm. You might want to wipe it up before it gets your screen all sticky.

Honestly, I did miss you guys. The fact that you continue to comment on my blog, even after I have been away for months is both heartwarming and causes me to wonder how many of you really, truly need a life. Speaking of life, let me tell you about mine. I’m sure you are dying to find out all the juicy details of my passionate affair with Angelina Jolie. Or maybe it was with Brad Pitt; they both look alike to me.

Ok, really going to try to be serious. I am currently employed as a server at a golf club. This would be Creekside Golf Club, motto: Drunk People Suck at Golf. Serving is certainly a giant step up from my previous job as a checker at Safeway. The money is better, the work is easier, and while the managers are just as stupid as all managers in any company will aways be, they are at least friendly at Creekside. The abundance of liquor likely helps with that.

In case you have been negligent and lost count, I recently turned 21 years old. By all legal standards, I am an adult, and will be prosecuted as such. At least that’s what the judge kept telling me. I have only drank seriously once so far. The good news is I have a high tolerance. Six or seven shot of tequila (yeah, I kinda lost count) made me tipsy and very bad at World of Warcraft, but I could still walk in a straight line, even if my WoW character could not. My conclusion is that getting tipsy is fun enough to choke down whatever alchohol is present, but only with trusted friends, in a safe environment, and with video games. In case any of you younglings are wondering: Yes, it is true what they say, alcohol will make doing very stupid things sound like a grand idea. Consider yourselves warned.

Moving on. I have officially become sick of World of Warcraft. After playing for three years and logging over 2,000 hours, I have reached my WoW limit and will retire permanently at the end of the summer. Don’t get me wrong, I still think WoW is an amazing game, but I have had enough. Now if only something new and exciting game would come out for me to get hooked on. I hardly know what to do with all this free time. Perhaps something constructive? Haha! We can all have a good laugh over that.

Alright, so I am going to make a serious effort to posting regularly. No promises, but I am a writer, and thus, I suppose actually writing once in a while might be a good thing. Just a theory.

Until next time, keep working on those underwear stains.