The employees of the restaurant where I work are either men who are very concerned with their appearance or completely disgusting. My fellow waiter friends always have 20 liters of gel in their hair. Hey, at least they smell nice. I would hate having to be served by a greasy-looking guy.
The other guys work in the kitchen or in the dishwasher. Because their environment is constantly humid, they sweat... but not in a I-just-worked-out-wanna-fuck? kinda way. They stink. Their new manager, Mr. J, however, always looks fine even though he yells constantly.
Honestly, I hated the dude when I started working there. He has a huge ghetto attitude, but he calms down as soon as you get to know him. On a Saturday night, we hung out at the bar. While I was gulping down a bright blue martini, his friend asked him to pick him up in downtown Montreal. He then asked me whether I would keep him company or not.
Was this planned already? I dunno, but I still went in his car.
He told me he was preparing a CD soon. When his friend was in the car with us, he made me listen one of their songs. Honestly not bad, but the girl singing the chorus had such an annoying voice. His friend seemed a bit insulted that I would DARE criticize his composition. Um, dude, I'm going to be a journalist. Of course I will criticize everything!
In that case, however, I should've been a good girl who would smile and nod to agree on the chorus' "profound meaning".
Our Big Mac Trio finally went to a bar downtown to drink some beer to then hit the dancefloor. As expected, Mr. J and I started making out. Then, something unexpected happened: I saw my ex-boyfriend's sister dancing right next to us! I had to tell her that I was finished with her brother before I could even dare to look ar her straight in the eyes. The poor girl thought I was cheating for a minute, there.
When the bar closed at 3 a.m., the Big Mac Trio had an additional french frie to the package. His friend had hooked up with a tall, skinny girl who had difficulty walking in heels. Creatively inspired by our greasiness, I guess, we went to "La Belle Province" to eat the recommended quantity of trans fat for the rest of the week. French-frie girl finally took off after almost getting into a fight with some be-yotch. The Trio went back to the South Shore.
After Mr. J dropped his friend off, we went back to his place to experience some "muy caliente" sexytime. After he detached my Elle Macpherson bra, he put a CD on...
The mere thought of listening to Drake's "Find Your Love" while fucking will forever haunt me.
