She Slices, She Dices, She Chops her way to Stardom

Day 2 in taco heaven, I smell like burritos already and in the 2 days I've worked I leave covered in EVERY thing that I touched in the kitchen. Sour cream and salsa both seeped into my shoes and I had my first fajita nightmare the other night. Well, by night I mean during the three hours of sleep I got from 2:30-5:30am this morning.
With that said, I semi-like being in the kitchen instead of the front of the house. However, I also like feeling my fingers and having the piece of mind that I will always have ten. (Sidenote - I am watching this movie, Wonderland, and despite a lot of criticism, the soundtrack is awesome.)
It's painfully obvious that I never worked in a kitchen before, from hosing myself while washing dishes, to spilling everything I hold. I almost wiped out carrying two huge buckets of some dressing-esque stuff that I spent about 30 minutes making and 40 minutes cleaning up. (The floor was slippery and I am a klutz). I caught myself, but all I can visualize when walking in the kitchen is my ass on the ground in an embarrasing attempt to walk.
With that aside, I have like 4 people telling me what to do, or mostly, what I'm doing wrong. Rightly so in some aspects, as I look like I just had my first encounter with a knife, even though I bonded with it for the 10 hours I worked yesterday. Apparently I have been cutting wrong all my life and people were scared that I was going to cut something off. Eh. So I've picked up some skills since my wobbly knife show. I NOW know how to cut 8 quarts of jalepeno peppers, onions, garlic, etc. I now know what a tomato corer looks like. I know how to make salsa for an army. (Today I made enough to fit in a container bigger than a full keg.) I did a whole lot more, but I will refrain from boring with details.
I have come to the conclusion that my new place of employment borders between fast food and a sit down restaurant. Hmmmm. Great. Everyone seems cool, but I have a beef with the second crew of kitchen ladies. They don't seem to like me very much, but I can't tell what they really think, because they talk so damn fast and my Spanish skills are about as good as my chopping abilities. But I DID grasp the fact that they thought it was funny I was in the kitchen with them, and my goofy Spanglish wasn't helping. Eh, the morning crew are cool enough.

And there it is. I am now a fiend in the kitchen and the sky is the limit.