Remember how a few weeks ago I was saying how the new place I work is all fancy and swankified because we have candles? Well, guess what. Candles are annoying. We have about forty or so of them in the room and all they do is irritate me and constantly need attention. To remove the leftover candle at the bottom of the votive involves a butter knife (later used for our hummus platter), some elbow grease and a few curse words. But the biggest thing about them that sucks is when someone pushes it off the table and a huge dollop of hot wax flies to every possible region of the room including pants, carpet, booths, chairs, tables and skin. Really annoying.
Last night, the performer wanted to have her show professionally videotaped. What that entails is one of the servers schlepping a table out of the room so that the camera can be set up in that space instead. It’s really not that big of a deal, but last night the videotape lady wanted to help so she started dragging the table out of the way but failed to remove the candle that was on said table. And what do you think fucking happened? It slid off the table and landed in the booth and sloshed piping hot wax all over the goddamn fucking place. “Ooops. I guess that’s what I get for trying to help. Hardy har har.” What she gets? She didn’t have to clean that shit up, I did. At the end of the night when I was ready to get the hell out of dodge, I spent 15 minutes scraping wax off a table and booth. There is no easy way to do it. I scraped it off with a check presenter, the whole while cursing her and wishing that the hot wax was used to give her a Brazilian instead. I wanted that wax poured all over her stinky labia. No seriously, she did smell. There was some serious body odor issue with her. I wanted to knock her up the side of her head with a box of Summer’s Eve Douche and a Ban Roll-on. Damn, bitch was stanky.
A few days ago, I myself knocked over a candle. As it happened, it was like slow motion. I watched it fall and I processed where the wax would possibly land and I tried to position my face so that it would land on my eyebrows since they needed to be cleaned up a little bit. Of course the shit landed on my pants leg. On my fucking pants. Not on the carpet where it doesn’t matter, or on the chair where it can be scraped off, or on my nipples where I can get a thrill, but on my freaking clothes. Googling “how to remove candle wax” gives you plenty of options, none of which I felt like doing when I got home at 1:00 AM. So I forgot about it and just threw the pants in the laundry. That seemed to work fine too.
Now when I get to work and see all those candles I feel differently about them. I no longer see the warm glow of ambiance enveloping the room. All I see is these little mother fucking votive holders of evil waiting to burn me and mock me with their fiery hatefulness. I hope they burn in hell.