"That's Southern Speak For"..

Saturday, March 8, 2008

Stuck in the Snow and Bush is "Waterboarding"...

I'm just stuck inside during a snowstorm and thought I'd write a snippet to mark my six-month anniversary today of moving here.

I'm looking out my big picture window and McKenna's tromping around in snow up to her knees, laughing about it, the little goofball, lol.

Would someone please remind God to hit the spring button? While you're at it, ask him to do something about Dubya.

So I'm looking at Little Bush on the news this morning, getting ready to VETO the "CIA Bill"...a bill which would legally ban inhumane interrogation methods by the miliary and CIA, such as "waterboarding."

Even his new best friend, Senator John McCain, has gone on record stating "waterboarding is pure torture." But we should know by now, Little Bush is determined...right or wrong, nobody messes with Little Bush while he's determined, lol.

FYI: "Waterboarding" is the military tactic of using "simulated drowning" to gain information from a terrorist suspect.

Um...would someone please explain what separates us from actual terrorists if we legally justify torturing other human beings under any circumstances?

What happens if a suspect is "waterboarded" and it's determined that they really don't know anything? Do they just go.."Oh, whups, dude, you're innocent....my bad....sorry I tortured you for no reason."

Well, since you're already such a big fan of waterboarding, Little Bush, perhaps someone should waterboard YOU. I'm sure we'd gain a lot of useful information, and at least our time spent doing so wouldn't be a complete sham and an exercise in futility...you know, like your entire time spent in office and the Iraqi War.

As a interesting aside about Little Bush, I have to tell you that the psychologist treating me for PTSD attended Yale with Dubya; her brother-in-law is still personal friends with him. She says that if you had told her then that he would be president one day, she would've told you to quit hittin' acid and laughed her ass off at the very thought.

BUT...the good news is, Hillary took Ohio....wahooooo!:)

Come on, election 2008....I really don't care if it's Hillary OR Obama; in fact, having one with the other as their running mate would be the dynamic duo...whatever, just...oust out of power that embarrassment to American history AND his little croanies, get a national healthcare system in place without breaking our bank (I like Obama's limited healthcare system better), and take control of OUT-of-control corporate greed...i.e...gas prices and pharmaceuticals run amuck. In short, just..."get 'er done."

I...really hate that expression, but in this case it's actually appropriate.

Thank you, that is all.

Friday, February 15, 2008

My Valentine's Day Lovers....;)

Which do not include a date, but DO include a flamboyantly gay man, Bubby, Bubby's dad, and some good girlfriends.;)

All right, let's get THIS out of the way first. I promised I'd post this video for my "Will" because he's more of a woman than I ever thought of being. His sweety is in Boston and has to work.

Happy Valentine's Day, honey. :) However, I refuse to autoplay it; I'll just post it at the bottom and you can play it yourself, lol.

Okay, okay, I admit it;The Prayer/La Preghiera really IS a beautiful song, particularly the end is chill-giving, though it isn't the best recording....and it IS full of cheese.

For me, Valentine's this year ended up being unexpectedly one of the best I've ever had, but not for the usual reasons. I worked both jobs yesterday and had no date, BUT....I received more cards, candy, flowers, and hugs than I could ever want, everyone was in a great mood, nobody really got any work done...probably because of the chocolate.

You DO realize, chocolate produces the same neurochemical in your brain that makes you feel as though you're falling in love. Who needs love when you have an endless supply of free chocolate?

Not that I didn't have any men interested...the usual freak-magnet set. For instance, here's the line of one guy I waited on...

Me: "So how is everything, anything else I can get for you?"

Mr. Overly Practiced and Smooth: "Just your phone number, and we're perrrrfect."

Groan. Retch.

Then there was a guy alone, seemingly normal at first, but they always are. He had no wedding ring and admittedly had no kids, but said that he loved kids and wanted to have them one day...THEN he pulled out his credit card...WHICH CURIOUSLY HAD ALL OF THE DISNEY CHARACTERS ON IT.

What the....????

He said he just loved all things Disney; he was obsessed with Disney characters.

Either he's lying or he's just freakin'...weird.

That sort of thing is enough to make a woman do a permanent Kegel even the jaws of life couldn't open.

For whatever reason, my adopted "little sister," Brea, decided I needed two straws with hearts on the end of them in my pulled-back hair, so that I ended up looking like a geisha. Will said I looked more like Sacajewea and I needed more bling, so everyone decorated them throughout the evening with metallic candy wrappers. It still wasn't fab ENOUGH, however, for Will.

"Hey, Sacajewea...Lewis and Clark went that way. They said for you to lose the hair straws before they'd hang out with you again."

"No, Will-son, IIIIII am to become geeiisha...I dance for you" and proceeded to bow and do some bizarre version of Sayuri's "Memoirs of a Geisha" snow dance.

Will just...walked away, lol.

Hey, I had my mojo working, but it "just don't work on Will." I'm SURE it's because he's gay and of course not because of my enticing dance.;)

Two seconds later, he's back, laughing, hugging me, and saying, "You are not allowed to quit working here, ever, without my permission and until I quit...I love you."

Right back atcha, Will...mwahh. Chai Raspberry next time?

Love,

Grace

P.S...Bubby has a date to the V-Day dance tonight, wish her luck. He's a pretty good boy boy, I have to admit.:)

CHEESE VIDEO: I remember watching this performance at the Grammy's, they brought down the house. Some people sound crappy live, but they were in perfect harmony, perfect pitch; it really was a "legendary performance," as trite as that phrase is.

Chrystal Smith/Southernspeak4

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Friday, February 8, 2008

Bubby and Bob Dole? ;) Why My Daughter Rocks The Universe...

I just have to give props to my daughter, McKenna, this morning, for being the complete goofball she is and making me laugh...every single day. :)

While taking her to school this morning, she told me this story about her, her dad, and her dad's new car. For those non-real-life readers, McKenna's father is Zack, who is NOT the ex-husband I've mentioned; Zack and I never married. We're very good friends, but we're too...different to ever get married.

Now don't get me wrong, I love the man dearly; he's very funny and does little voices, laughs easily at everything...but...um... he just doesn't do "silly" or "absurd" very well.

For instance, she called him after watching MadTV at my house the other day, contorted her face, and said in a perfect "Antonia" lispy voice: "Hello. I have a cat named CC."

Her father said, "Really, McKenna. Did you fall unconscious recently?"

Here's the real antonia, so you can get the idea.

Anyway, her dad just bought a new BMW because he is always Mr. Stereotypical Blue-Blazered/khaki-pants-ed Republican, always about "status." I laugh at him on a regular basis for it. The only indication that he has a wild streak anymore is the left scap (shoulderblade) tattoo of a cloud and a lightning bolt with his fraternity letters on it, which I initially thought was an ice cream cone.

He bought this car in black, for some reason.

So McK decides to mess with him a little, and apparently she says to him, "Hey Dad...are you in the mafia? All my friends think you are because of your car. Dad... fess up, are you? "

"No, McKenna, I'm not in the mafia. Are you serious? DO people really think that???"

"Yep, dad, they do. In fact, everyone calls you 'Fat Tony."

"Wh-a-a? I'm...not fat."

"DAD...I'm J-O-K-I-N-G."

"OHHH...hehehe."

I don't know WHERE she gets that mischievous sense of humor, do you?;)

And ohhhhmigod, people, guess what? We've just finished her HIGH SCHOOL schedule for next year.

BUBBY WILL BE A FRESHMAN!!!

AAAAAKK! I'm pretty sure it was just yesterday I was holding her in "feety pajamas," pretending to chew on those chubby little toes to make her giggle.

Wasn't it just the other day that I had to chase her around the public pool, with her giggling like a-madwoman all the while, because she had completely disrobed from her Barbie bathing suit?

Wasn't it just last week that she and my former stepson shot my tampons as rockets into the toilet to watch them expand, leaving them there when my brother-in-law visited for the first time? (Luckily, I found this experiment in time.)

Now she will have completed high-school algebra and will be in Geometry already, as well as in Honors English and Honors Biology. Where did the time go?

I also laugh when I remember how bright we found out she was at such an early an age. Well, I guess we already knew, because she started talking at six months.

But about a year later, she began some bizarre fascination with Bob Dole that still defies explanation. I found THAT disturbing on so many levels, I can't tell you...I was horrified, lol.

You know what? I'm blaming her father.;)

Every time Bob came on the news, she was mesmerized. I seriously waved my hand in front of her face, but she was not to be deterred. She would wander around holding a newspaper with his picture on the front, it was just plain scary.

I was talking to her dad on the phone during a visit with him and told him to test her because he didn't believe me that she knew who he was and his name. So while on the phone with me, he pointed to a pic of Bob Dole in the paper and said, "McKenna...who is that?"

"Das BobDole."

His name was one word to her, bobdole.

"Heeyyyyy! That's right, honey, that's Bob Dole!!! All right! Who you gonna vote for?"

"Bobdole."

ME: "All right, now, that's enough, Repubic-man. Don't make me come over there and do a Dem Intervention."

"Hehehe. Hey Chrys?"

"Yeah?"

"Our daughter is a genius."

"I know, duh."

For years, for Christmases after that, her Auntie Kim and Uncle Matt gave her one Christmas gift that said, "To McKenna...love, Bob Dole" for our amusement. I think she really thought he was some eccentric uncle she'd never met that gave her treats at Christmas.

She doesn't believe me now that these things ever happened and flat out refuses to admit it, but I remind her that, guess what? We have video.

Gifted kids are weird, sometimes, what can I say. But everyone should have a Bubby, you should get one...except you can't have mine...I'm holding onto her a little while longer.:)

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

It's Lent/Ash Wednesday. Argh.

So I'm talking to my sister, Ruthie, today, trying to decide what I'm going to give up for Lent before Ash Wednesday service tonight, when I will get all ash-headed and reverent.

She has already decided to give up chocolate, which is a major thing for her. You don't understand...the girl actually makes satisfaction noises and is not to be disturbed while eating chocolate, so this is a very big deal.

Apparently, a coworker came up, while we were talking, with a chocolate cream pie and said, "Gee, Ruthie, wouldn't you lovvvee to have some?"

"You ARE the devil, you know...hey, shut up, or the pie goes in your face."

Did I...mention that she works as an admin at a church at present? Hehehe.

Like me, she too gave up her 60+ hours per week professional job as an advertising copywriter six months ago, when grandma took a turn for the worse; ready to step in for her turn if/when Mom gets exhausted.

A pretty cool and uncharacteristically noble thing for the previously spoiled family baby to do, she's grown up nicely...mostly...

Anyway, she gets all kinds of funky calls, working at a church, so it's very fun to prank call her with strange voices and stories and see how long it takes before she figures out it's me, hehehe.

So I thought about giving up cigarettes, but that's a bit too...stressful to tackle right now when things are finally settling down. Plus I've tried quitting before and I'm a real bitch when I do, and nobody wants THAT. I thought about giving up cursing and the word "fuck", but I did that last year and obviously it didn't hold.

So then I tried justification..."Hey Ruthie...isn't like...the whole point of Jesus' death supposed to be that he made that sacrifice so we didn't have to?"

"Nice try, Chrys, but it's about relating to his suffering, dumb ass."

"I think you should've given up calling me 'dumb ass' for Lent. Try not to think about your coworker's chocolate cream pie, there, shithead. I love you anyway, sissy."

"Love you too, sis...bye."

So Wednesdays are my day off, and of course, I get a terrible cold today. One of the reasons I decided to take one full day off of everything is because I need one day off from everything to AVOID getting sick, but apparently this strategy isn't working.

So I'm struggling to get lunch in with McKenna at school, pick up dictation tapes for that new doc as my third job one day a week, go to an appointment, clean my house and do laundry, and type some transcription today before services tonight...and I'm all cranky with a 100.2 fever.

I call K, MY church secretary, to find out what time the service is.

"K, what times are services today?"

"12 p.m. and 7"

"K, 12's no good, I have lunch with McK at school. I'll be there at 7, with bells on. I have no idea what that expression means, actually, and I better not wear bells, being as it IS lent and I'm supposed to be all..reverent."

"No, bells are more of an "epiphany" thing, you can wear them then."

"Hahaha! Excellent, I'm marking that down on my calendar...'Epiphany...wear exotic bells for no apparent reason."

"I'll call you and remind you to wear them."

So then I'm driving to my appointment, hacking away with a cough, grabbing quickly through a drive-thru, then eating, a Big Mac, dropping the "special sauce" on my jacket and cursing about it, when I come down the hill, around the bend, from the south side of the city.

Ever since I was a kid, this has always astounded me...how this city just suddenly pops up from behind two hills once you round the bend, it literally catches your breath.

Today, however, was particularly awe-inspiring. The moment I rounded the bend, the sun came out, just briefly...after some pretty heavy-duty storms...and a very thick, very large rainbow rounded over the entire city, right over Carew Tower....it was absolutely breathtaking.

I looked at the people in the cars to the left and the right...and we all were smiling at each other and pointing, kind of a "bonding with strangers" moment..."Can you see that? It's beautiful!!!"

I remembered my learned gift over the past few years of finding the slightest bit of joy out of the simplest things in life, which I learned at a time when there was virtually nothing left of my previous life and things in the city in which I lived were literally in tatters. I learned that immediately after Hurricane Ivan, in fact. The slightest thing can make me full of joy, the tiniest kindness from a stranger...you learn to appreciate the small stuff and take time out to admire it. :)

So, methinks...

"Ooops....okay, God, okay....sorry about me getting all wrapped up in my own...crap today. That was a pretty amazing sight, master scientist, thank you...for allowing us all to see that today."

So guess what I'm giving up? Cursing, junk food...AND I'm cutting down on smoking...we'll see if it holds.;)

I didn't have a camera with me, but here's a good stand-in photo for the same effect...actually, I'd have to say the effect of coming around that bend and the rainbow over the entire city was actually better, but the cathedral in another city photo is a cool additive.

Time appropriately taken out, rainbow admired...back to the schedule now, shhh...;)

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Coming Soon To A Dinner Table Near You

During my little weekly password/email checks here at the library, I've decided to write some more about the people I've met in my secondary job at a restaurant, because they are decidedly infinitely more interesting than the people in my professional job.

Still writing here now and then is also my little "fuck you" to the boys in the BH (and the women that love them). I'm still here, I'm still writing...despite your bullshit.:)

So here we go, boys....with love...from your favorite "toy."

So I guess I passed my hazing initiation with flying colors because for whatever reason, all is well with the "head cheerleaders," their archnemeses, and everyone in between...like me.:)

Perhaps it was because of the "Insight Into You" break room game I started, or perhaps they had a hormonal upswing fluctuation, who knows, but things are markedly improved around there.

Also, I just found out that I actually....kick ass as a server. I'm not sure why, I used to suck at serving years ago. I think it has something to do with becoming a mother and learning how to multi-task amongst chaos, lol. I'm particularly good when there are children at the table, the kiddies tend to love me.

However, there are still those days...

So after I take the order, which inexplicably takes 10 minutes, the Alpha female at the table whispers that there are two birthdays, could we sing, .and could we create a sampler of some of our appetizers as her entree.

I go to put in my order in the computer. Now, lol, the last thing anyone should've ever done is given me a keyboard for the prep part of ordering, upon which I can type in anything I want on the ticket going to the kitchen.

"Filet mignon, butterflied...medium well...will you go with me? Circle yes or no."

"Add lobster. ..who's your mommy?"

I go to pick up a Cobb salad and reserve it for mealtime, writing my name on a napkin and placing it with the other train of salads with names, which read:

"Katie. Jenny. Matt. Eric. Kill Whitey."

I chuckle to myself as I pick up glasses for iced teas.

"Behind you, with a knife!" .shouts Eric.

"Behind you" is the restaurant way of letting you know not to turn around quickly, to keep you from running into a tray and dropping whatever you or that person is holding, or impaling yourself on the steak knife.

I shout..."I NEED SINGERS, TABLE 43... IN 30!"

"Singers heard!" shouts back Sally, service/window manager tonight.

"Sally, can we make an appetizer sampler for high-maintenaince ho at table 43?"

"Argggh, I guess...okay."

Anthony, the bartender, breezes in for a salad.

"Chrys, ask Garrett about his wild night playing strip poker with some really hot chicks last night."

"Dohkay, since I AM all about hot chicks playing strip poker and all...do I detect a note of sarcasm?"

"Just do it, you'll see."

"Sooo Garrett, what's this about you playing poker with some really hot chicks last night?"

HAHAHAHA!

"Wow. I'm really glad you two are enjoying this, but I still have no idea of what you're talking about...and am not sure I want to."

Garrett pulls out his cell phone. There is a picture of a 300-lb naked woman with something stuffed up her nose and two Bud Light bottles covering where her nipples should be.

"JESUS...I was...totally unprepared for that, I'll have nightmares. Wow, she's pretty sexy, I hope you got lucky."

"I...don't remember...AND...I have no explanation for that."

"Tinyyyyy...order up!"

"Tiny" is my nickname, except when James says it, it comes out "Tinnnnehhhhhhh."

"Thank you."

"Here you go, shithead" says Brent (pimp daddy from the story below).

"Thank you, ball-less wonder. Wait a minute...kay, I'm missing the sampler, and this is a Delmonico instead of a filet. SHIT, I forgot the lobster tail. I NEED A LOB ON THE FLY!"

James shouts, "You fucking idiots, I need a filet on the fly. And Chrystal, there's no such thing as a lob on the fly, it takes 15 minutes, lol. And what the hell, a sampler???"

"Oooopppps...sorrrryyyy....but I love you, madly? Sally, what about the sampler?"

"Oops, sorrrrrryyy...I'll get on the sampler" Sally grins sheepishly.

"It's cool, I'll stall and say it's because the ribeye is well done."

I turn to see Sally flapping her arms wildly like a chicken. She is speaking to the appetizer chef, Geraldo, who speaks virtually no English.

Sally: "No no...two PLATES of wings, two wings on the PLATE. Ya know...pollo (flaps her arms). DOS POLLO! On the plate."

Geraldo: "Ches, chicken have two wings...on plates."

Sally: "Oh Sweet Jesus, Ricardo? Please make him understand?"

I am now...doubled over laughing, though I will now receive a 5% tip, if that.

"Where the hell are those Delmonicos for 47? Sally...I...need a minute to smoke, this is chaotic"... says hot (and hotheaded) new bar manager, helping out in the kitchen.

Sally and I simultaneously look at each other and raise an eyebrow...MEN. They can't handle this kind of stress; as I said, we mothers are used to chaos and multitasking and it's no big deal.

"NO, GERALDO....TWO WINGS ON THE PLATE, NOT TWO PLATES OF WINGS!!! OMG, Chrystal...he's going to punch me, right in my face, and I don't blame him.

I am now peeing myself with laughter at this display.

"Chrystal, I'm not leaving this kitchen to that table to apologize until I have a lob, a filet, and the sampler" Sally says, grabbing onto the metal bar at the counter.

"Me neither. Let's chain ourselves in solidarity...(sings)... We Shall Overrrcomme."

"Tinehhh.....order UPPPP!"

Out we go, Sally kisses their asses.

Ten minutes later, it's birthday showtime, but everyone is too busy to sing.

"Sally, I'm trying to salvage any sort of tip whatsoever from this table and everyone's too busy to sing and there are two birthdays, can we NOT ruin these people's birthdays?"

"I NEED SINGERS TO TABLE 43 RIGHT NOW OR THERE'S EXTRA SIDEWORK AND I'LL KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP...GO...NOW!"

So now fourteen singers, Sally, and myself approach the table, clapping.

"Ladies and gentlemen...may I have your attention please. Though Pam and Rick's friends and family would never even think of embarrassing them for their birthdays, their friends and family here at ____ have...absolutely no problem with that whatsoever. Please join me in singing the ____ birthday song."

And that three-ring circus would end up leaving me with?

Big smiles, no idea of what went into their meal (or what was initially omitted) and?

A $50 tip, thank you....:)

all's well that ends well.:)

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

As always, I'm posting/visiting nowhere else but here, so if you receive emails, visits, comments, or anything else that appears to be associated with me, my name, or picture (and you don't know me in real life to call me and verify or view my computer emails/visit history).... it's not me, and it never was...believe that or not...but how could I prove it anyway?

At this point, I pretty much know who was involved. Trying to investigate/figure out who kept doing these things for two years (and why) only became flipped around back on ME into "stalking"...so I would advise anyone else experiencing "issues" with this same group to be very careful.

Gain as much documentation as you can, but be prepared for the same response, if you're dealing with those from that posse.

If you have the money (and want the drama), I would advise letting professionals do your investigation for you....though cyber harrassment/stalking IS very difficult to prove.

Even if you have an IP address, you can't prove it was that person, at that computer, at that very moment...and the BH tend to use dynamic IPs.

So until next time, enjoy your dinners....we always do.:)

Friday, January 11, 2008

The Break Room Game...

>>>>>>>

Sometimes, all you need is a sophisticated gay man in your life; one like Carson Kressley, only better....and I think I've found him. :)

So I'm at the library returning books and researching something for a friend, thought I'd write this out for...well... me... and whoever...or WHATever might be reading. ;)

Through Christmas, I started waiting tables, Thursdays through Sunday, for extra money. Apparently, an already-existing "clique-war" that I walked into (without knowing the history of) turned into an explosion, three days before Christmas.

Server A was screaming at server B about taking her tables, Server C accused Server D of stealing tips...when I've noticed myself that the people most guilty of this ARE servers A and C...but many times, it's always the biggest accusers that think everyone else operates the way THEY do...but I told no one. I was surprised, however, when someone said this loudly in the break room.

The new servers, which included R and myself, ended up smoking nervously in that break room, in fact, lol, just trying to avoid the rest of them and taking sides...which is how we met. Actually, I think that two girls have control and kinda bully the other two, but these days, I stay out of that kinda thing unless it directly involves me...and they really WANT it to involve me, lol.

So I told him that I think this restaurant could use his testosterone for balance...use however much testosterone he had left and go out there immeeeediately and spread it around.

Don't get me wrong, though there's always drama, I've actually missed waiting tables. There's always a singing chef. There's always some sort of food fight after the most anal-retentive manager has left for the day. There's always a ridiculous birthday song that no one wants to sing, and if you are of the more mischievous set, changing a word or two of it into something else so that no one notices...you laugh at least 27 times per shift.

The particular saving grace for me is on Thursdays, when I work a full shift with R. He also has a professional job and just works a couple of serving shifts for extra cash, so we pretty much just roll our eyes and spend most of our time playing playing trivia games to the music overhead.

In fact, we're so tight, we've become like an inseparable team; our tables love us because we are becoming famous for our ongoing music trivia war. We drop whatever we're doing at our tables, point at the other across the room and shout:

"General Public...Tenderness"....Ohhhh yeah, I do believe I was first, thank you, I rock....that's two points for me."

For whatever reason, our customers love this....then we do air shots of imaginary Jaeger in the kitchen over it later for our amusement.

R is the intelligent, cultured, joyful type of gay man I haven't had in my life in a long time, since before I was married, and I've missed it. In fact, the last one I had, I helped bury in 1996 from AIDs.

R transferred here six months ago from Boston, educated in New Hampshire, owns a home with his partner of four years, loves to entertain and garden, and would rather build you up than tear you down in a catty way; he radiates character...and I adore the man.

I think it's no secret that I've become a bit jaded over the past two years after some events, but something he said reminded me of who I used to be.

So in the spirit of R and the wonderful character HE is, here's a portion of what I wrote and left in the break-room to try to smooth things over between warring parties...apparently, it was a hit:

Break-Room Game: Here's something to do besides smoke and complain about our coworkers.

"Who Am I"... AKA...."Reasons Not to Hurt My Coworkers."

If you CAN'T see these things about your coworkers (or yourself), you're not even trying. Try it, it works...for at least the next five minutes.

;)

(P.S...I'm not on the list, by the way.)

I will inexplicably break into song at any given moment, appropriate or not, to try to give us all a boost. Who am I?
Despite my tough, goth appearance, I am the perfect example of NOT juding a book by its cover. I actually love people, have an open heart, and I enjoy getting to know you. I also just like to break the preconceived perception mold, based on my appearance. Who Am I?
I have a lightning-fast wit and a high IQ, and I am generally the little stick of dynamite in the room Now, if I only realized that about myself. Who am I?
I am definitely not afraid to use my outside voice indoors. I am learning that if I focus it in the right direction, I can move mountains. Who am I?
I have a tough, no-nonsense approach to work. I keep you busy to keep drama and gossip to a minimum and YOU out of trouble.
Once you get past the "playah" facade, I actually am a little sensitive...but don't spread that around. I am learning to value myself for my sense of humor and my intelligence rather than the number of women I can collect. Who am I?
I am learning that it's okay to be pissed at times; it doesn't make me a bad person. In fact, it's often good for me AND them to say "no." Who am I?
I'm a smart, tough-cookie workhorse, but I also have a heart of gold and a ready laugh. Whatever circumstances I am dealt, I STILL will never leave my coworkers holding the bag. Who am I?
I'm goofy as hell, have a wit that won't quit, and I love to provide your entertainment; however, make no mistake - I have a "no tolerance for bullshit" policy and I'm not afraid to use it. Who am I?
I am kind to everyone, sincerely. I also have an artist's eye and creativity to bring to the table. Who am I?
Though I look like I could crush you like a walnut (and probably could), I'd rather motivate your ass to help me and make you laugh while doing it. Who am I?
I exude joy and positivity. I would rather have coffee with you and build you up than throw fries at you and tear you down. I am the poster child of team player. Who am I?