WEDNESDAY, JULY 13, 2011 — 05:21:16 PM So today, if the customers would stop constantly walking in and out of the doors, my task is to plan the specifics of this get-together, make sure people can come, and be a super secret agent ninja about the entire process. We can’t have uninvited guests show up! Well, I mean, I probably wouldn’t kick them out or anything, but this guest list is carefully crafted — on what premise or for what goal, I’m really quite unsure, but if my intuition serves me well, it will be magical.
I was too lazy to hide my hair (or lack thereof) this morning/afternoon. That may be advantageous, or it would be if Garamond was fucking working today. Sheesh. I didn’t see Pluto cleaning when I came in either. But Marcél is working tonight. Hell yeah. 
And so is the new server girl. Gah, I still don’t know her name.
Zenzen says I shouldn’t write as much tonight. Hahaha, yeah. Sure. But this chapter might be a little shorter anyway. It’s not even 6:00 yet and we are probably almost half full. Yay, there’s going to be money to pay my paycheck this week! 
You never know that at this restaurant. The building is cursed. I am totally being serious right now, too. Since I can remember–and I’ve lived here in Knoxville all my short life–there have been at least four restaurants here. Grady’s, West Side Tavern, Amerigo–all went out of business or had to close for some reason. I’m probably forgetting a couple, too. But Brazeiros is doing pretty well. It’s here to stay, I think. Southerners do love their all-you-can-eat meat. It sounds really bizarre because it kind of is, for America. The concept actually originated in Brazil. Something about cowboys slow-roasting meats over the embers of a fire and then sharing the meat all around and partying hardy like only Brazilian gauchos know how. It’s a pretty cool place with a really interesting culture. I like it here.
06:40:39 PM Zenzen: “Will you check the restroom please, Klara?” in his half-German half-Brazilian accent that makes him sound Chinese. “Sure!” I responded. “Thank you,” he bagan as I turned the corner, “You are the best one… after me.” … #Lolwut? Here’s the thing about Zenzen. From what I’ve heard, both of his parents spoke German, and he spoke it fluently as a child. However, he lived in Sao Paolo for the first seventeen years of his life, so he speaks Portuguese. He’s also fluent in Spanish and in English (mostly). His real first name is Vilmar, but when he opened up this Brazilian steakhouse he needed to sound as authentic as possible, so he goes by his last name now: Zenzen.
07:53:21 PM Gah, I haven’t had time to do anything party-related at all because I’ve been partying with the customers, Brazilian-style. Really just making funny faces at a little baby and smuggling cheese bread and diet coke from the back. I did learn her name, though–the new server, not the baby. Joy! Haha I heard Zenzen yellin’ at her. He’s always tough on the newbies.
But I’m not going to reminisce about my month as a newbie, way back in October. It’s party planning time.
I have a rather small space to work with. I live in my parents’ house, but kind of separate from them at the same time. My little domain (I guess you could call it that.) consists of my original bedroom plus my bathroom and the guest room, which is right next to my room, converted into a living area with a little fridge and a microwave and shit. I figure it’s a cheap way to have my own little apartment suite without paying shit tons of money that would honestly be better spent on drugs. And it’s close to work, too. It’s not terribly close to thhe college I’m supposed to attend this fall, but I don’t even know if that’s happening…
ANYWAY, there are always Skittles, and M&Ms for the chocolate lovers, and a pack of caffeine pills to accompany the Sam’s Club bulk cases of Vault and Mountain Dew. Hahaha I have such kiddie parties. But to this one I’ll add some smokeables, and if anyone wants to bring alcohol, that’s just fine. “I’m having a few other people from Brazeiros over on Friday after work. You wanna come over and chill with us, perhaps have a joint or two?” Hell yeah, that sounds classy. If I got invited to something like that, I would go in a heartbeat.
I might ask my parents to go on a date or something on Friday, that way I actually CAN bust out the giant speakers without keeping them awake against their will. For the playlist, I’m thinking more indie-dancexdubstep than my usual drum’n'bass, breakbeat rap stuff. And I’ll let people add songs, of course. A small party doesn’t bring out the control freak in me as much as a 20-person bash. I’ll just let it flow, let people do as they like, be themselves. OOOH I’m sooo excited! ^^
09:19:15 PM Marcél is sitting at table 3 with Renata (Zenzen’s wife). I’ve noticed another thing about her. She doesn’t eat any meat! At all! Ever! She’s a manager, too, and she doesn’t even eat the beans–they’ve got sausage in ‘em. Wow, as far as I know, we’re the only two vegetarians working here. Hahaha, vegetarians working in a steakhouse. Oh, the irony. It’s not a moral thing for me, though. Meat just really upsets my stomach, so I substitute cheese bread. I’ve snuck eight pieces today, ahahaha. Such a fatty.
09:42:34 PM Cut! Haha when Marcél cut me I asked if she was a vegetarian. She laughed her odd little androgynous laugh and said she was.
“And you work at a steakhouse?”
“Yes, and it bothers me sometimes, especially when I see the gauchos in the kitchen butchering the meats. They used to be animals! Walking around and…” she allowed herself to toss her hands in the air and dropped off the end of her sentence in true Brazilian fashion. I told her how I was a vegetarian, too, we laughed a bit about that. Then I told her about Friday and, oddly enough, my manager is coming to my house to party this weekend. Lolwut? My life is so weird. I hope she brings some exotic Brazilian strain or something. She is of course aware of the cannabic nature of the gathering, so, fingers crossed!
??:??:?? PM I’m off, so my perception of time has kind of intentionally disappeared, but I must tack this on to today’s entry, for completeness’ sake.
I was sitting in the little private room that the employees usually dine in after we are cut, finishing up my usual salad with olive oil and ground pepper, dipping my remaining puffs of cheese bread in the leftover deliciousness. Soon, Joy is making her way towards the table with a slab of picanha (our house special beef cut) and what looked to me to be a chicken leg or something. “Holy shit, this is a Wednesday?” She looked a little frazzled; the servers were a little understaffed since we didn’t expect to be so busy, plus newbies are always kind of shellshocked. She practically did an about-face and headed towards the salad bar. Must not have been out of OMG SERVER MODE GOGOGO. That’s something you eventually learn to toggle at will.
I continued to nibble on my pan de queso. At risk of sounding like a total creep, she’s even prettier up close. A little heavy on the makeup, but she was probably trying to look extra nice for her new job. I was guilty of the same thing when I started. So anyway, she returned with her salad and sat down almost across from me, but not quite–diagonally, I suppose. Now, pay attention. This is smooth. I said,”If you think today was crazy, just wait until Friday and Saturday.” She mentioned she had to work at her other job on Saturday, so I was like, “Well I’m having a little get-together on Friday after work with some Brazeiros people. You wanna join us? We’ll be chillin’ at my house; it’s just like three minutes away…” And she sounded pretty excited to come~! She might even bring some alcohol or something. She’s over twenty-one. Booyah~!
I hope to Baby Jesus that Garamond and Pluto are working either tomorrow or Friday… Gotta get the gender ratio right. Partying is a science.
