Yes, I am a smart ass!

I decided to visit some past posts since I am so deep lately and find some funny stuff. I am going to keep some, add some and delete some of my incidents.

This “Nikki-tude” has been in full force now for about 24 hours. My best friend thinks it is funny and I am usually encouraged to write them down.

Here is one of the many good things about tending a bar. When you are pissy and in a bad mood you have plenty of people to take it out on. The funny thing is, they still pay you. One guy turned to his friend last night and said “She is verbally abusing me” and I said “this is true and you are paying for it.” I am merely being a smart ass but they love it. I do not push people and it is all in good faith. I love 90% of my customers, seriously.

No matter how good life may be or how happy my mood is there are just sometimes I can’t hide that smart ass “Nikki-tude.” Times like this should not be taken in an offensive matter. It is how I am.

The phone rang at work and the lady said “Hi, are you open?” I simply replied “nah, I am just here answering the phone today to say we are closed.” I did not recognize her voice but when she came in a short time later laughing at me. She came in just to mess with me because I was a smart ass on the phone. We had fun with it.

A little while later a woman started complaining about her wings.  Normally I would be a little more sympathetic but she was with a douche bag that was on my last nerve. The whole thing went down like this:

The lady slurs “Uh…scuse ah me missy, these here wings are not good.”

I look down at the wings and say “are they cooked all the way through and crispy?” I completely ignore the “missy” because this would cause me to become untrained.

“Yes they are cooked just right but they aren’t good. They taste like sodium and salt.”

I look at the ceiling to calm myself. First of all I am pretty sure salt is mostly sodium. Sodium chloride (NaCl) to be exact but I refrain from saying this because it is obvious this would throw her directly into a state of confusion. I simply pick them up and say “I think you should take it up with Tyson…I didn’t kill the chicken, pluck it, or prepare it” and throw them away. I did not charge them for the food and decided they had enough to drink. When she asked why she was cut off I explained to her that Management had called and were monitoring the video cameras and told me I could no longer serve them. She said “oh okay, I understand.” WOW! I really was simply concerned with her not knowing the difference between sodium and salt.

Last weekend I went out with a friend. We went to a house party for a while and then stopped by a bar on the way home. I was standing there minding my own business watching people dance who took the phrase “dance like nobody is watching” seriously. I hear a woman clear her throat to the right of me and I glance in her direction and look back at the pelvic thrusting people on the dance floor. She then asks me if I am straight. I replied “no” and turned away for the second time. This woman then says “okay, well don’t step this way then.” I could not help but laugh out loud because I would not hit that with someone else’s car. I should have winked at her and reminded her she was in a gay bar but I don’t have patience for ignorant people.

The house I use to live in was being remodeled. If any person has been through this I have a chance for some sympathy here. I mean who knew you could fit so much stuff in one room until you try and put it in other rooms. What were we saving that plastic cup from a cruise that was taken in 1986 for anyway? Do we really need 42 coffee cups? Are we EVER going to have 40 people over for coffee? There is enough dishware to host the Last Supper here. It’s crazy but we are all guilty of it. Most people don’t realize it until they are moving. I have been moving around with my first beer can I purchased legally for years now. I do have a sentimental side.

Anyway, I am off subject bad. Here is an example of what is going on right this moment. The cabinet guys are here, the granite guy just left and the oven installer just had an issue. I hear “hey lady, come here” so downstairs I go to assess the problem. I am informed from the appliance installer that the new oven is 2 inches smaller than the old oven. I stare at him blankly but finally say “and you are telling me this why?”

“Well it is a problem.”

“Hmm” pause.

As I stare at a hole in the cabinet I simply turn to my left and look back at him and say “oven dude meet cabinet dude” and walk off.

Seriously was this a GED failure reunion in the kitchen? It’s not rocket science people.

Okay, well thanks for reading about my bitchy moments. I have to go. I just got a text from Tina (one of the people I live with) that another contractor is on his way to look at the back porch. I replied to her text “yay, more penises.”

I am telling this one he can’t have the job unless he has a smoking hot woman as an assistant wearing only a tool belt.”

Peace out Suckas…I miss you D and T!!

OH-The BIG 4-OHHHH

 

First of all I cannot thank all of you enough for making this an amazing week.  I love each and every one of you more than I can even explain. Forgive the writing skills, I am rusty.

Ahhh, I am writing. Believe it or not I have been writing, just not anything I want the world to read yet. Today is November 2, 2011 (but I did not finish it on that day) and I am 40 years of age.  On Saturday my best friend and Mom flew in. After a quick trip from the airport everyone got ready for my Birthday dinner.  There were many surprises ruined due to my inquisitive nature and persistence yet oh so many I did not know about. I am one lucky and loved individual.

The past four days have more events than I care to share so I will focus on the dinner festivities.  It was to take place at 7:30 at Milla Bella at Vintage Park. We made it on time and they gave us this fabulous private room surrounded by wine. I was all smiles, ecstatic to be with my favorite people, and just plain giddy.  We ordered wine and appetizers and everyone was laughing and having a good time telling stories and of course the occasional reminder of some of my past birthdays. Oh man is that ever another story.

 

I wanted the mussels. Could not wait for them, mouth watering and when they arrived I scooped them up and put them on my plate. I was on about the fourth one when it tasted a bit sour and then nothing but grit in my mouth. I had already swallowed most of it but casually spit the rest in a napkin. I looked around and no one noticed but I asked, “Has anyone had a problem with the mussels?” There were only a couple of us eating them and no one had any issues. A small child poked her head in the curtain and squealed and giggled but promptly left. I ignored the kid and chalked up the mussels issue to unclean shellfish and focused on what I wanted for my main course. I had my salad picked out. I drank some wine ate some bread and left the mussels to sit in their misery. I glanced at the unwanted edible bivalves on the plate and felt a bit sad. They were never to be touched and doomed for the smelly trash. R.I.P. you “bearded” dirty mussel.

People were handing me  gifts and cards and I was on cloud 9. Hell, it was more like cloud 900. I had my Mom, my best of friends and the one I loved all to myself in a room with walls of wine with just a curtain separating us from the rest of the world. I hear another squeal and giggle and the child shut the curtain again. My best friend from Seattle had this gift made for me which is blanket/throw with all of our goofy sayings and secret language on it. We were showing it to everyone and explaining it when all of the sudden I hear this crash followed by another crash and then my legs and feet felt wet. I looked down to see red wine and glass flowing through our private sanctuary.

 

You see, if you know anything about Cooly (Yasmin Longoria) and I we can get into some mischief.  So my immediate reaction was to throw the” throw” and jump to the other end of the table in an empty chair and look innocent as hell. Cooly had already jumped the entire table in a single bound and was casually acting as if she was having a conversation with my Mom whose mouth was wide open and not even looking in her direction. The entire rest of the party was gaping at broken bottles of red wine streaming through our room and out to the street.  It looked like the Boston Tea Party.

Finally I look at Cooly who decides to stop her fake conversation and look at me and I mouthed to her, “we did not do that.” She shrugged her shoulders and decided to look as shocked and in awe as the rest of the table. I start to snap out of my fear we just destroyed a million dollars’ worth of wine and realize I have glass on my pants and am soak and wet with red wine. Then it dawns on me, I am wearing my favorite jeans, Big Star. In my head I am replaying us holding up my wonderful gift she personally had made for me and I realize, we REALLY did not do it. I stand up at which time I am rushed by restaurant staff equally as wide mouthed as the rest of our table. I watch a woman at the table outside of our room rush and grab some little shit ass kid and take her outside. The little girl is wearing a white dress with a white bow in her hair and looks innocent as hell. I simply grab my jacket and walk out of the room due to the amount of people now invading our territory and my birthday dinner. (Oh you know I had to throw in a bit of self-pity.) J

I watch as a man comes out and talks to the woman who sprung the devious child. Now 80% of my party is outside with me. The Mother of the child is still out there watching us talk and sees my pants are covered with the wine her child pushed through the wine holders built in the wall. She does nothing as the Father is playing with the child by the fountains as if they were at the park. I wanted pick up the lid of the trash can and throw it at them like a Frisbee. I was angry about my pants and my wet socks and shoes.  I chose to remain calm and focus on what was important, my loved ones, only after I glare at the woman who gave birth to the demon wine destroyer.

We begin to laugh at the reaction of Cooly and I. I just knew we did it but this time we were innocent for once. I think I will start calling Cooly, Superman. You know, leap tables in a single bound. We go back in and use the restroom and go back to our room where I find out my Mom and Tina had to move tables and stop them from using a bottle of bleach on the floor. We stop talking about it and begin to eat our salads which have arrived. It takes me a minute to find my napkin, fork and knife but finally I indulge in a yummy salad.

The children are running loose again. It was similar to Chuck E. Cheese but this is not a restaurant where a kid can be a kid no matter how many bows you put in their hair. As Tina said “The parents are acting like an episode of Jersey Shore and not paying attention to any of their surroundings.” I begin to feel a bit queasy. I decide it is nerves and perhaps a bit too much wine. Not only have I drank more than I usually do but the pores in my legs and feet have probably absorbed another bottle.  Our entrees arrive and mine has good flavor and Dusty shares some of his seared Ahi Tuna with me. I do not eat much because now my stomach is just sour. I decide to ask for a box and enjoy my people. It is rare I have all of my loved ones in the same city much less the same room.

The restaurant does the birthday desert thing on the house due to the craziness however my stomach is not having any of it. I drink some water and we pack up gifts including bottles of wine given to me. I walk out with my doggie bag and jacket. Everyone is outside the restaurant  hugging one another and saying our good-byes except I see Dusty and Michele almost in a sprint towards the car. I wonder why they are not saying goodnight to Susan who is heading back downtown. I assume they have another surprise they are planning so do not give it a second thought. The rest of us head to the Suburban (so awesome for our large groups) and we are pretty much shoved in the vehicle in a mad rush. I am buzzed from the wine and my stomach is not well. Of course the vehicle is running and before I sit down we are in reverse and squealing out of the parking lot. Okay, that may be somewhat of an exaggeration but we were on two wheels as we round the corner of the parking lot.

All of the sudden the truth comes out. When the wait staff came to clean the table they were about to grab some bottles of wine off the table and Cooly said, “No those were part of the birthday gifts. Of course they apologized and she put them with the rest of the gifts.

Yes, you may have guessed it but we had procured the bottles of wine the restaurant put on the table prior to our arrival in hopes of us buying them. Why they never removed them after we ordered other wine is a mystery. This was an innocent heist because I was given bottles of wine for my birthday and Cooly honestly thought they were mine. I am not concerned due to my nausea. I am about to be very ill. I nudge the person next to me and I am sure I am green and she tells Dusty I am about to throw up. Given that Dusty and Tina have raised 5 children, 6 if you include my young adult life Suburban immediately jumps the median, crosses two lanes of traffic and lands in a parking lot with plenty of grass where I fly over the middle row of seats because I am in the very back of the three rows of seats. I make it and proceed to lose my entire dinner and wine. My Mom is standing there asking me what is wrong. I want to say, “it is pretty obvious I am ill” however all I can taste is sour and grit. I explain about the mussel at which time she hands me a travel package of tissues and says” look at you, you are a mess.  You have wine all over your pants and vomit on your shoes.” Well, no shit I think to myself as I am completely embarrassed because all of my loved ones are gaping from inside the vehicle.

 

Of course I instantly feel better and get back in the automobile. We begin to replay all of the events of my memorable 40^th Birthday dinner and laugh and laugh until we get home where it continues. I drink water and sprite the rest of the night and direct my attention to my loved ones. I said on my way into the restroom to clean up and change, “Someone Google those bottles of wine we took.” When I came out after getting clean they explained they were $100 bottles of wine which means they probably cost triple that at the restaurant.  The manager had given me his card for the damage to my jeans. I never called because I figured we were even with the cost of the stolen wine and the lost dinner.

I would have personally liked an apology from the Neanderthal parents of the children who allowed their children to act like barbians in a somewhat “upscale” establishment. However, they were uncivilized and did not give a damn.

Whew, what a night!!

On Sunday, Sandido brought me a card and my dearest friend Mitch bought 10 tickets to Zach Brown. We had a blast but our theft continued that night as well.  You can buy blankets at the concert and Cooly and I each bought one however when I woke up the next day I realized I had three. All red of course but one was not the kind they sell at the Pavilion.  So, once again a theft occurred by mistake.

I will just call this 40^th Birthday the big 4-OH appropriation celebration. I have attempted to return the items we pinched however no success. The manager called it a wash and Mitch’s friends were not concerned about the blanket.

Happy Holidays my loved ones and thank you to all that made my days so special.

Carla, Susan, Michele, Mom, Tina, Yas, Blue Shirt,  Mitch and Dusty…I love you very much! Thank you from the bottom of my heart! And all the rest of you after the weekend. You made my year!

Peace out suckas! 40 is the new 30 so watch out world.

 

The Oceanaire sank like the Titanic

Dear Oceanaire and Marijke Shugrue, General Manager:

 

First I would like to say my first visit to your establishment was off the chain which can be described as wondermous! (Yes, I can create new words when a restaurant fulfills my every desire.) The server explained the menu and the fresh seafood flown in daily, etc. We started off with an assortment of oysters with shaved horseradish and the wonderful shallots in vinegar. The appetizers, salads and entrée left me craving more and more. The service was exceptional as it should be for the prices but well worth every penny. I loved the atmosphere of an ocean liner dining room.

Now let me tell you what happened with my second experience. Have you heard of a ship called the titanic? You, my beloved Oceanaire SANK!  I know it is Restaurant Week  yet this doesn’t give you the right to act like you have suddenly become a Long John Silvers chain. For those of you who do not know what this is it was established in 2003. Now called Houston Restaurant Weeks, the event showcases and promotes Houston’s incredible array of fine restaurants to the fine dining crowd while raising money for the Houston Food Bank.  I am sure all of the Restaurants participating in this do not just do it for the sole purpose of benefiting the Houston Food Bank. People who would probably never come to your establishment do so because of the mere fact of your “generosity” or perhaps they cannot afford it. This hould not be your attitude.

In a nutshell let me explain what transpired on this evening I was so looking forward to.  First, I give you kudos that we arrived at 7:05 when our reservations were not until 7:30 and we were sat immediately. We started with an $80 bottle of wine and had the ever so rude server choose us 9 different oysters. No shaved horseradish but I can get by on the shallots in vinegar because I believe the ice would have melted under the oysters if I would have waited for her to come back to request the horseradish.  They were of course delicious and fresh as expected. Here is where things started going downhill. We made the horrible choice of asking about the Restaurant week menu. I mean why not take advantage of $35 per person if it is food we would be consuming anyway? Her attitude promptly went into defense mode despite our $80 bottle of wine and $2.75 per oyster order. She replied with “there is no other menu, it is in front of you in bold and the portions are smaller.” With that she was gone.

Well alrighty then….I choose the fried asparagus as I would have anyway and my companion chooses the mozzarella, tomato, and basil salad.  We talk and are enjoying our wine and the view from the window. I am commenting on the décor and it has been a good 20 minutes. In the mean time I have poured our wine.  Finally our appetizer/salad arrives. The individual delivering the food came back shortly with a silver round plate and said “I apologize; your bottle of wine should have been sitting on this.” I thanked her.

We of course want a taste of one another’s food and I no more than fork over one asparagus without taking a bite and there is a gentleman standing there with our entrées. It is obvious we just got our appetizers and he says “do you want me to take these back and hold them?”  Well, do I want that medium steak to sit under a hot lamp and get well done? NO but what choice do I have? He sets them down anyway and another server notices our confusion. He comes by and picks them up and says we will hold them.  I try and enjoy my appetizer yet I am worried about that poor tenderloin being baked to death by some radiation lamp or UV light or hot oven or nuclear power plant back in the kitchen.  We had also ordered the Stuffed Flounder with crab and shrimp. I am thinking of this poor fish shriveling up into a tough ass shark or carp. A manager came by the table to ask how everything was and I said “it has been challenging.” He smiles and keeps walking.

We finish our appetizers and our drive thru food comes out. Once again we taste  each of the items and the tenderloin which was face up was over cooked but still had great flavor. The Flounder was awful. It tasted fishy and dry. We simply set it aside and ate the best part of the beef and grilled shrimp. When our ever so thoughtful server came by to ask how we were doing I asked for the rest of the asparagus and beef to wrapped up to go and she looked at the obvious uneaten flounder. I said it was fishy and was not good. She replied “oh, it was probably the crab.” I said “no, it was the fish.” She ignored me even though Charlie from the tuna fish can was taking credit for that flounder on the plate. She then asked us what we wanted for our dessert because it is part of the $35 wasted dollars. My dining partner told her and that we would like it to go and off she went with our plates.  Let me remind you we were sat at 7:05 and it was now 8:50 and my patience level is gone. I get up to use the restroom due to lack of circulation in my legs because I dressed up for Captain D’s. When I return from the restroom we still have no dessert, no check, nothing. Finally it comes. Our bill was $181.59. Because I am in the business I still tipped over 20% but only because I did not want to wait on change.  Perhaps Truluck’s is a better choice because it is obvious The Oceanaire is not so caring.

 

I will need to update this blog because I currently have to return a phone call from a representative of The Oceanaire.

Houston, We Have No Problem

Oh man…Pride 2011 was off the charts. Everyone knows I love Seattle Pride but H-Town rocked it this year. I said last year I would never go back. So much for that… The theme was “Live, Love, Be.” I had one of the best nights I have had in years. There was no drama and just tons of fun. The crowd was crazy as usual but I was never in fear. I saw more body parts than I would have liked but it was all in fun. It reminded me of Mardi Gras in some ways except I got to be free and gay. I know many people do not understand that statement. Explaining that would be an entire other blog.

Part of what made it so much fun was I got to be myself.  I love parades and festivals and happiness. It is not unusual for me to run off chasing a float for beads or a t-shirt or whatever. I am well aware I am going to be 40 this year but that doesn’t mean I can’t act like a kid in a candy store from time to time. I had friends there that had never met one another and they got along and had fun. Every person was self-sufficient and this is how I like it. It was nice not to have to oversee a daycare.  No one was arguing even though the adult beverages were plentiful.  I have been walking on egg shells for long enough trying to please others.  It was simply an amazing and fun time.

I got to meet some new people who were a blast to be around. Others were friends of friends and even more fun. That is what Pride is about anyway isn’t it? Living and loving and being… One of my favorite parts of Seattle pride is the diversity of people. All races, sexes, sexual orientation, churches, schools, families and of course the political folks are present in Seattle. Houston is actually moving in the right direction because all of the above represented.  In our group alone we had different races, straight people, and of course us “gays.” Ha ha… There were no haters or any person who was in need of reassurance or a babysitter. We danced, laughed, played and of course the people watching was at its finest.

So congratulations Houston. I am proud of you. Thank you to all of my friends, both old and new, who shared this day with me downtown, at the bar after and in my home well into the wee hours of the morning.  P-Flag handed out yellow caution tape which read “Hate Free Zone.” I think I might make a belt out of it. AND from this moment on I am going to live by the theme “Live, Love, Be.” It will be in that order too. Live for myself; love the ones who deserve it and my favorite… Just BE! One of the people I admire most in this world reminds me of this from time to time and my Pride experience jogged that memory.  I have been a little lost lately.

Hold on to your horses, don’t get me wrong Seattle, you have my heart. San Francisco, San Diego and Dallas you are fun as well but Houston, we no longer have a problem.

Have a beautiful week people and try and remember, hate is ignorance, being mean is those demons you have not faced and never and I do mean NEVER toy with one of the most precious things a person possesses, their heart. Follow your dreams and the one who you have passion for and you will be a better person for doing so.

Peace out suckas!!

Mile High Club

If you are offended by obscene language, please feel free to use your opt out option. HA!

As many of you know I just returned from a short trip to Seattle. This story is about airplane etiquette or should I say lack of. You know there is a problem if the entire plane full of passengers IQ equals 80. It took over an hour for everyone to board and sit down. We actually missed our take off slot because of the one fuktard who decided to look for her book, makeup, laptop, lamp, kitchen sink and change of clothes while standing in the middle of the damn aisle. Hey Lady, sit the fuck down. You just successfully delayed over 150 of your fellow passengers not to mention the entire Federal Aviation Administration. You are a selfless, rude and ignorant. Just saying.

If that12 year old kid can walk down that jet way you do not need special assistance. Just because you are a breeder and have offspring this is not your ticket to board early. I know at times this must be confusing because like your home, this plane also has wheels. Wait like the rest of us please. We could have made our scheduled departure. But NO, you had to argue with the gate agent for turning your sorry ass away during pre boarding. I understand your fellow neighbors at the trailer park were doing the same thing but you got caught, so shut up. You will get home soon enough to check on your 1986 Chevy Cavalier on blocks and the weekly sales at Wal-Mart.

Do I need to wear a no soliciting sign when in my seat? Did the magazine in my lap, the earphones in my ears and the game I was playing not give you a clue? (This happened to Cooly as well) I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want your unsolicited advice on how I need to find a good church. Don’t read my magazine and ask me questions either. NO, Ellen and Oprah are not together. They did a frickin photo shoot to promote their shows. That is all. Your second clue should have been when I handed you the magazine and shut off my light to stare aimlessly out the window. No lady, I refuse to tell you my name so you can pray for me. I don’t even know you and now I hate you. SHUT UP and leave me alone! If you really want to pray for something, plead for some gum or breath mints, your breath is horrid. AND you have a front butt. Sorry, I know that was rude.

Hello security, TSA, FBI, Homeland Security, the police, anyone…there is a woman in 14a with knitting needles. If you were not so busy giving me grief about my 4oz bottle of hair serum you might have caught that. They are hanging out of her bag for fucks sake. She could pierce two people through the heart by the time I could tame some frizz in my hair. Seriously, is it really legal for her to knit a scarf on a plane? Really…REALLY? Priorities people!

Yes, airports are full of lines. We learned how to do this in kindergarten people. Single file, practice patience and do not cut in line. Seems pretty elementary to me foks. It is not appropriate to stand on top of the person in front of you. You may not touch me or breathe on my neck. I don’t even think you showered. The next time you run into me I will assume you are stealing something from my bag. This will justify my actions when I begin beating you over the head with my laptop. Step off stinky!

Now I recognize I sound like a complete ass. I pretty much am. We as a society need to be more considerate. I believe in prayer. I even believe in prayer in schools. I mean hell, as long as teachers continue giving tests their will be prayer. I did not bash the lady with my computer. I simply allowed her to go in front of me. What is the rush to hurry up and wait for anyway? Incidentally she also stole my seat. Apparently she lacks the ability to comprehend 10F. I remained calm. I did not even yell at the mullets attempting to herd their offspring early. I didn’t offer Mr. Sniffly a tampon to shove up his nose. I just took off my bra and used it as a mask. Stay at home sick people!

Okay, I am done now. Who knows, maybe all of these delays prevented some horrid tragedy from occurring. I simply yearn for more selflessness, respect and concern from society.

Have a beautiful day people. I am going to work because I missed it. Peace out suckas!!

Oh Weiner…

This is so not like me but I can’t help myself. People in Public Office simply should not do certain things.

Congressman Anthony Weiner…I just can’t help but laugh every time I hear the name on the news. I know it is childish yet I start to think of what the poor man went through growing up. Can you imagine the teacher in his classes calling role and the entire class giggling?  I suppose with this latest sexting scandal he could blame it on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from living a life with that last name. It would make sense.

Personally I think he should have run for Mayor. I mean the slogan could have been the Oscar Mayer song with a slight change. My Weiner has a first name; it’s T-O-N-E-Y. My Weiner has a second name; it’s M-A-Y-E-R. I mean hell, most politicians can’t spell anyway. Think about it, all that processed meat such as bologna and hot dogs are simply lips and assholes anyway. It is a pretty good definition of our Congress, lips and assholes and of course bullshit.

Don’t get me wrong. I despise politics and am extremely ignorant about it so for all I know he was a Mayor. I am ignorant by choice.  I just wanted to come up with some slogans for his campaign or headlines. For example: “In news today “Weiner is shrinking in the latest poll taken.” Or, please vote for Anthony Weiner, he will work hard for you.” Yet, I must digress before this gets crude. I don’t want anyone to get a hard on towards me.

I know this is a strange blog for me however I am feeling a bit like a teenager tonight. I apologize but not really. In the back of my head another jingle is stuck there: “Oh I wish I were an Oscar Mayer Weiner. That is what I’d tru-ly like to be, ‘cause if I were an Os-car May-er Wie – ner, Everyone would be in love with me.”

I know I preach “Be kind and expect the same,” yet I could not help myself when I heard his name on the news many times today and it is hard to have respect for a man who sends pictures of his penis when he is a member of Congress for crying out loud. If he is forced to resign I would love to see him pick up a gig with Oscar Mayer and drive the wiener mobile around.  Or hell, maybe James Coney Island would pick him up. I see a perfect Franchisee candidate.

Peace out suckas!!

Carrabbas, Where Art Thou?

Carrabbas, Where Art Thou?.

Carrabbas, Where Art Thou?

Carrabba’s, where art thou, or your quality, or your customer relations, or your wonderful food. Where…where did you go?

Or should I say what happened to you? Yesterday evening 5 of us decided to eat at the restaurant. There was a nice breeze so we snagged a table on the patio and the games began. I ordered a glass of wine and the scrumptious Cozze in Bianco (Prince Edward Island mussels steamed in white wine and basil and lemon butter. They were wonderful and clean and yummy and I should have stopped, drank my wine and got in the car. But who does that?

We were all having a great time, talking, laughing, eating salads and drinking wine, tea and soda. Our entrées arrived and it was go time. I looked at my Filet Fiorentina. That beautiful 9 oz. USDA Choice center-cut tenderloin with shrimp and sea scallops coated with Italian breadcrumbs grilled and topped with lemon butter sauce, garlic mashed potatoes and a medley of fresh grilled veggies. As I picked up my fork and knife I think I heard a woman singing in opera voice, “ahhh.” As I cut into my steak it was if I stabbed that fat lady singing. Just like that everything went silent. My steak was way over cooked. I looked at it and tasted it anyway. The flavor was incredible. My friend next to me says “cut into the middle. Yep, no pink there either. Shit…I have never sent anything back but this is a $27 steak and I want to feed that fat lady singing in my head. I cut into one of the scallops and they taste fantastic as the waitress snagged my plate to never never land.

The rest of the table is eating away and I am silently pouting but taking it in stride. I know it will come back and  maybe I will hear a rich and magnetic voice such as Rosa Ponselle or some other Opera singer. OR not…

My steak comes back out and I cut into it not hearing any voices because at this point I am tired and everyone else is pretty much done eating. I cut into it and the son of a bitch jumped off my plate and moo’ed, jumped the railing and started galloping down the street. It was rare and my poor scallops and shrimp were the same ones that were with the other steak and those poor beautiful grilled veggies were now shriveled up prunes and could have passed for an old ladies…never mind. You get the picture.

Needless to say my short love affair with my dinner was over. I grabbed my lasso and headed out to the street to rope Elsie back to the dinner table. I told her not to worry as I drug her back to the table. I could cook her tomorrow on the grill and she would be safe from the prunes that now lie next to her withered and dying.

We ordered dessert and coffee and made the best of it. Our Sogno Di Cioccolata “Chocolate Dream,” A rich fudge brownie brushed with Kahlua, with velvety chocolate mousse, fresh whipped cream and homemade chocolate sauce came out in record time. It was frozen in the middle but our waitress had already warned us that if we did not like that she did not know what was wrong with us. We powered through it like good little patrons. How dare us even think about complaining about a frigid dessert.

We got the bill and I see at the bottom there is “didn’t like…. -$27.” This kind of set me off. I wanted to scream “didn’t like? How about the kitchen fucked up my entire meal not once, but twice.” My therapy kicked in and I did not come untrained as I wanted to do. Kudos to those anger management classes. I suppose all restaurants’ have their time and Johnny and Damian are sitting in their big mansions not really giving a shit what happens in their kitchens any longer. I know the manager did not care. I think he walked out to the table only to tell me my second steak was on its way. No apology and no flowers in hand, nothing.

Ciao Johnny and Damion, it was a good run!

Enjoy your day peeps and remember no matter how bad this experience was I was still kind as should all of you. Despite what one really wants to do. AND, never take it out on the waitstaff, they did not cook it.

Peace out suckas!!

Viatnamese Bleach and Reincarnated Dogs

Viatnamese Bleach and Reincarnated Dogs.

Viatnamese Bleach and Reincarnated Dogs

There is something about being here in Seattle that puts me at peace. It is most likely a number of reasons such as the beautiful scenery, the quiet, the peace and of course this is where I have done so much healing. Both physical and most importantly mentally. It makes me want to write which I have not done in so long.

If you are a follower of my blogs some of you know my Mom has had a housekeeper for many years. We have been through our trials and tribulations with her but the bottom line is simple,  she does a good job and is trustworthy. A few years ago I was in my office working and I hear a bunch of commotion upstairs. I ignore it at first but it continues to escalate. I first hear “OH MY GOD.” Only to be followed by:
“How much is this going to cost?”
“I wonder if she is insured?”
“What was she thinking?”

I decide to head up to see what has happened. There stands my Mother walking back and forth feverishly from room to room as her ever so ignorant soon to be ex husband follows her around.

I look down at the carpet and there are many, I mean many white spots all over the place. Some are large areas and some are smaller.

It appears as if there is no translation from Vietnamese and English for BLEACH and carpet cleaner.

The wicked Stepfather is now throwing a fit and refusing to call the husband of the housekeeper who speaks better English to find out why she did this. This should come to no surprise to anyone who knows him because unless it something which will directly burden him or his lifestlyle he never accepts any responsibility. I mean hell, for a man who never worked in 12 years to even have a housekeeper is enough said.

Anyway, sorry I am way off track.

The arguing continues and I go back and forth from room to room to see all areas impacted by the Carpet Cleaner from Vietnam.

My Mom says “What are we going to do?”

No response and the tension is immense.

So I quietly say “What is the big deal? We can now play Twister whenever we feel like it.”

I thought it was funny but not perceived well so I simply head back down to the office to search the internet for solutions and later bring up some phone numbers for some carpet people. Secretly wishing for some hot women to come over and play naked Twister on my new game board.

One  of my other favorite stories about the housekeeper is funny to me and today it got even better. Some of you might know when I first arrived in Seattle to live  a couple of years ago I had a rough 33 days. First my Grandfather (who I miss) died, then a friend of mine back in Houston and then my beloved dog named Bailey or known to some as Chicken.

I was very sad and the doorbell rang one morning. It was Lan , the housekeeper. She came in and immediately asked “Where your little dog?” I said he had gotten sick and did not make it. I had to put him down. She looked at me with a serious face and said “Oh, no wonder he not here.”

I smiled and said yes and made my way down stairs only to burst into laughter at the language barrier we shared. I needed that laugh. I think it was the first time I had even smiled in a month.

As I said, today it got even better. The doorbell rang and Sandido started barking like usual.  For those of you who don’t know who Sandido is, he is my 9 lb. chihuahua mix.  I have had him for a little over a year now.

My Mom picked him up and opened the door. There is my friend Lan, ready to clean. She looks at me and then looks at Sandido and says “Is that same dog?”

My Mom and I just looked at each other.

Of course my Mom told her no and I went downstairs because I knew what was about to happen to me.

Y’all, it hurt to laugh as much as I did. I had to ask Yas what her exact words were when Bailey died and she reminded me so I could write this.

Well, thank you for letting me waste some of your time today.

Make someone smile today. It truly is the best medicine.

Peace out suckas! (That was for you Dusty) I will be home soon.