Limousines are for peeing.

Friends, sometimes my brain just...breaks. Momentarily, that is. Every once in a while I'll slur several words into one completely incomprehensible outburst of nonsense. Or combine two words into one. Or replace a word with another totally unrelated word. When we first started dating, The BF would respond to these brain breakages with, "oh god, did you just have a stroke?", but now he's used to them. They always make us break into hysterical fits of laughter. It didn't occur to me until just now that maybe it isn't so funny...maybe this is just like in season 4 of Bones when everyone thought it was hilarious  Booth hallucinated Luke Robitaille (I had to google him to spell it correctly) and Stewie from Family Guy, but later Brennan makes him go to the doctor and no one was laughing then because BOOTH HAD A BRAIN TUMOR. And we all felt like jerks for enjoying those hallucinations episodes. We were laughing in the face of death at Sealy Booth's expense. How many hot FBI agents do we think there are? Because Mulder is gone, people! JESUS.

Do you think I have a brain tumor? Please send reassuring comments that I am not dying.

Anyway, despite the fact that I may be dying, these weird little things I do are really funny and I think from time to time I will share one with you guys, even if you end up judging me for it.

Here for your amusement is one that happened just the other day...

First you guys should know that I like to make random comments at the TV and usually The BF is reading the internet and doesn't pay much attention to the crazy gibberish I'm spouting at commercials or the insults I throw down (like a badass) at annoying, overly picky homebuyers on House Hunters. The point is, these comments are almost always stupid and not at all funny. (i.e. "shut your butt" or "so's your face).

So, when this particular brain breakage occurred, I was watching a commercial for some overactive bladder medication. I tried really hard to find it for you guys, but I seriously don't think anyone else on the internet cares about it enough to post it on youtube. Anyway, the announcer was all, "you know how when you want to go to the museum, but you really have to pee and so you miss every exhibit because you're just peeing everywhere? Now you can actually appreciate art because our medication makes you stop pissing yourself!"

First of all, this commercial's ridiculousness speaks for itself, but I apparently decided I was going to say something stupid about it anyway. What I meant to say was something like, "but museums are for peeing" which I realize makes no SENSE, but whatevs. At least it makes some sort of sense in the context of the commercial. I think I was trying to convey that it's possible to spend several hours in a museum so most people will probably pee a few times anyway. I know I would. BUT what I actually said was, "but LIMOUSINES are for peeing". Immediately The BF looks up from reading some article about our recent technological advancements and says, WHAT did you just say?

But I was already laughing hysterically, because wtf. Why was my brain even thinking about limousines enough to pick that word? Because it is totally and completely broken. Every now and then a tiny explosion occurs and I'm suddenly shouting  LIMOUSINE! at the TV.

Now that I've typed all this out, I think this is probably funnier to The BF and I.

Oh well, your problem.

How To NOT Be an Asshole (while eating in a restaurant)

Recently, I left my job in retail to return to waiting tables. I thought I had experienced every form of jackassery during my 4 years of retail, but I was wrong. Very, very wrong. I forgot that while dining out, human beings have the ability to catapult their jackassery to the highest degree. In short, people are assholes.

Let me start off by informing you of a few things you may not be aware of. Servers make $2.65 an hour. This is why we rely on the tips you leave us - that's how we pay our bills. Servers also have to tip out a percentage of their sales to other restaurant employees. It's different from restaurant to restaurant, but I think the typical amount is 3.5% of their sales. This means we are taking a pretty decent amount of our hard earned money and paying the bussers, food runners and bartenders. Every time you don't tip 20% you are royally screwing over that server. That server also has bills to pay and mouths to feed. Know the restaurant you are eating at beforehand. If you don't want to spend $60 on dinner for two, plus a 20% tip (which is pretty typical at my restaurant), GO SOMEWHERE ELSE. Go to Red Robin or Applebees. Go to McDonalds. But don't come to my restaurant, spend beyond your budget and make up for it by leaving me a shitty tip.

I'm going to go through a typical experience waiting on a table in order to demonstrate the things that are sure to annoy your server, and therefore are things you should try to avoid doing in the future.

1. Greet

First of all, at my restaurant, we pour water at the table automatically and greet the table as we are doing so. As a greeting, I might say something like "Hi there, how is everybody doing tonight?"  Common responses are:
"fine" <---not very polite
"doing just fine, thank you, how are you?" <---this is acceptable
and my personal favorite, a totally blank expression, kind of like this:

This is so irritating. Why would you not respond to a simple question like, "how are you?" In any other circumstance, it would seem rude to everyone involved. But not in a restaurant,here it's totally acceptable.

2. Drink Order

Me: Can I start you off with a cocktail or a glass of wine tonight?

Most irritating response: No.

Really? Just "no"?. Would you like a beer? A Coke? Iced Tea? Lemonade? You fucking idiot. Clearly, I'm fulfilling a job requirement by offering you a cocktail or a glass of wine first. They are expensive and we want your money.

Here are a few acceptable ways to respond:

"No thanks, I'll just stick with water"

"I'd like a Coke or a Pepsi, whichever you have"

"What kind of beers do you  have on tap?"

"Yes, please. I"ll have a Manhattan"

Yesterday, I was waiting on a young couple, so instead of offering alcohol, I informed them that we had coke products, iced tea and lemonade, to which the boy replied "Uhh, do you have coke?"

REALLY???

3. Appetizers

I always offer appetizers. My main objective as a server is to get your bill higher so that even if you are a cheap bastard and you don't leave me 20%, you're still tipping me more than $5. Appetizers add at least $7-$10 onto your bill. I expect almost everyone to say no. That's totally okay with me. What isn't okay is what usually happens (note: You should probably click on the picture to enlarge it so you can see what these poorly drawn stick people are actually saying):

Either people make ridiculous comments about the choice of appetizers, or they all stare at each other and wait for someone else to make the decision. I'm always willing to give you more time, so if you're not sure, just tell me to come back. Don't make me stand there while you mumble to each other while looking confused and irritated. I have other tables. I have sidework. Essentially, it's like if you were at work, you have a million things to do, and people keep putting you on hold when all you're trying to do is get a couple of quick phone calls out of the way.

4. Entree Check

 Most of the time when I approach a table after they've had a chance to try their entrees, I expect to be annoyed. That's because it usually goes like this:

Me: How is everything tasting over here?:

Customer: 

What is the deal with this? Why do people start looking at each other like I just walked up to their table and said hey look what I can do! and started tap dancing?  Remember me? I'm your waitress. We've met. I'm just here to make sure that you're happy with your food. I'm not here to steal your food. This isn't the wild kingdom. You needn't hunch over your plate protectively and look at me sideways. As always, JUST ANSWER THE FREAKIN' QUESTION.

5. The Tip

As I've said before, unless your server called you a fatty, made fun of your baby and dumped food all over you, you really should be tipping 20%. Nothing is more upsetting than knowing you gave excellent service to a table and opening up the book once they've left to discover this:

Another really annoying thing is tipping ONE DOLLAR less than 20%. What lesson do you think I'm learning from that? That I'm really good, but I should try a tiny bit harder? Because mostly what I'm getting from it is that you're an asshole. A recent example would be $31 on a $162 bill. What? You really needed to save that one dollar? What are you going to do with it? You can afford to spend $193 on dinner, but not $194? What does that mean? My mind is boggled. I mean, don't get me wrong. I love that my restaurant provides the opportunity to make $30 off of on table, but come on.

So there you have it. ANSWER QUESTIONS and TIP WELL and we won't think you're an asshole. Treat us like human beings (because we are).  

Or, if you must be an asshole, for god's sake, stay at home.

UPDATE: I think sick and twisted humor may have found its origins in the restaurant biz. I mean, when servers are having a bad day, a conversation might go like this (this is an actual conversation I've had):

Me: You know what we should do?

Coworker: What?

Me: Go out for drinks and plan the perfect murder

Coworker: Fuck yes.

Then later, I come home and draw this:

and think that I'm the funniest person alive.

Also, the fact that I don't drink to excess several days a week makes me the exception in the restaurant biz. When you are an asshole, you're driving people to drink. You're ruining people's lives!

Boys are crazy. I love sammiches.

Very often I find that I have become what some might refer to as a "video game widow". Especially on days when I work doubles (almost always), when I come home, The BF is very, very focused on whatever game he is into at the moment (Modern Warfare2, Gears of War, StarCraft). I can talk and talk, and he really only absorbs two or three words here and there. I really have no issue with this, since I like to come home from work, babble about my day for a few minutes, take a bubble bath and check my emails and the facebook and such. But man oh man, the game is always SO LOUD that I usually end up taking my laptop in the bedroom so I can watch something awesome and not have to listen to people chainsawing each other's faces off or blowing each other up with nukes. ANYWAY. The other night I noticed that The BF was also logged onto facebook, and rather than talk loudly enough for him to hear me from maybe 15 feet away, I decided to start a facebook chat with him. It went something like this:

Me: make me a sammich!


The BF: oh noooes! I have no sammichs


Me:  yeah, you just have to make one. that's how sammiches work. 
        there aren't any, and then you make one
        and then there is a sammich


Me: lets hang out for one hour, and then I will sleep and you will chainsaw creatures in the chest.


The BF: I'll be done in 10 minutes. Are you hungry?


Me:  YES. THAT IS WHY I WANT A SAMMICH.

I found this conversation absolutely hilarious. It was just as effective as trying to talk to communicate verbally while he's very focused on something, except he took the time to read what I wrote, formulate a response, type the response, and then still did not remember a thing that happened. Boys are very silly.

Anyway! Sammiches!! I love them. And I want one of these:
k, thanks!

Green Thumb; Thumbs up

Holy crap, guys. I'm growing stuff!

For Easter, my mom filled my  basket (bag) with lots of cool kitchen-y stuff...a zester, a new tea kettle, an adorable apron, a candy thermometer, etc. Also in this basket o' goodies were three tiny little pots and seed packets. My mom had given me the gift of life! (ha! puns!) I was gonna grow chives, parsley, and basil. IN MY OWN HOME.

I was so excited. And then I got home and realized....I have never successfully kept a plant alive before. I couldn't remember really even trying, but it seemed likely that I had tried, and the plant died and I just blocked it from my memory so I would never have to remember what a huge embarrassing failure I am. I had a total moment of panic. I stared at the tiny, adorable little pots for a while, then I set them down and slowly backed away from them.

I stayed away for an entire week before I decided that the possibility of making pesto whenever I wanted to (for almost free!) was too enticing to let my fear of failure prevent me from even trying. So I planted the little buggers and put them in my bedroom window. I repurposed the "hey cat, stop doing that" spray bottle as a "please, please grow tiny plants" spray bottle and put it on my nightstand so I would remember to use it. AND I DID. And a few days ago when I woke up and went to water them, I saw this:

They're growing!! woot woot! I did it! My guess is that the chives are in the forefront, basil to the right and parsley to the left. Since I know absolutely nothing about plants, I'm just assuming that's what they are based on the shape.

This is way too gratifying of an experience for me. It's a little weird, right? I mean, should I really be this proud of myself? I've kept two cats alive for 2 years now, and no one ever bought me a congratulatory gift. So what's the big deal with plants? Because I totally feel like The BF should be buying me a present with a card attached that says something like, "wow, you did it! Great job! You are so good at stuff you've never been good at before".

I can't explain why I find it so thrilling, but I do. I really, really do.

I used to think gardening was so lame. I couldn't think of anything that sounded like a worse pasttime to me. I wouldn't have even made my Sims do it if you couldn't eventually grow your own food, and also I like my Sims to be experts at every skill possible so they can own/run the entire Sims world. ANYWAY. This has totally turned me around. I get it now. When people tell me they love gardening, I will no longer picture Martha Stewart or some other crazy old lady with her gardening gloves and knee pad-thing. I'll just nod my head knowingly. "Yeah", I'll say. "I totally get that. I grow my own herbs. Suck on that".

Secrets, Secrets Hurt Someone...

When you were growing up, did your mom ever say to you, "there are some things you're better off not knowing"? I can't remember if my mom ever said this to me, or why I'm aware that it's a thing people say to each other fairly often, but it never seemed more relevant than last night.

You see, last night after The BF and I scarfed an entire large deep dish pizza, we were both secretly thinking to ourselves that something sweet and cakey HAD to be in our futures. We didn't say anything about it out loud, but even as he played through Heavy Rain and I watched and had panic attacks here and there, we were still both thinking it. And then.


The BF says to me, will you look up Dunkin Donuts locations? And I say, god dammit. Now we are definitely going to eat something sweety and cakey. Probably 4 to 6 somethings each. And I will continue to slowly morph into a big fat fatty. Now, we had already spent like ELEVEN whole dollars on a pizza and I knew that once we got to the DD The  BF would insist that since we had driven all this way(approximately 7 miles), we may as well get an entire dozen. AND THEN WE WOULD EAT THE ENTIRE THING. And we would have spent almost $20 in one day. Twenty whole dollars on getting fatter.

Now, a normal person may have come up with a solution something like this: You're right, self. No doughnuts for you and The BF tonight. Let's just have some yogurt and call it a night. But no. I am not a normal person. And here is where the relevancy of "there are some things you're better off not knowing" comes into play. For this particular bit of knowledge that I should not possess, I blame the Food Network. Specifically, Giada de Laurentis. She is the one who told me that you can DEEP FRY STORE BOUGHT PIZZA DOUGH, ROLL IT IN CINNAMON SUGAR AND IT BECOMES A DOUGHNUT. Why would she tell me this? WHY?

So, friends. my solution,sadly, was not to forget about sweet cakey somethings. It was, ZOMG, I have pizza dough in the fridge and I can totally deep fry it and roll it in cinnamon sugar and then The BF will love me forever for feeding him delicious treats and saving him $$. So, I announce this plan out loud to which The BF replied, quite skeptically, "you can do that?"

And yes, I can. And I did. And we ate them all, god dammit. And we got all hopped up on sugar and stayed up until 2 a.m. watching To Catch a Predator (what is that show? I'd never seen it before and I was horrified by two things: 1) why do so many men want to have sex with 13 year old girls and 2) why are so many men SO INCREDIBLY STUPID).

Anyway, the moral of this story is, I make bad decision and it's all The Food Network's fault. And my brain's filled to capacity file folder of "things you should not remember (becaus they'll probably ruin your life), but will anyway" is starting to takeover my entire ability to process thoughts and make decisions. 

(I'm not posting the doughnut recipe. Seriously, guys.

I mean...it's just...you...ugh. Fine. Unroll the pizza dough. Cut circles into it. Drop into really hot oil. Let them brown, roll them in cinnamon sugar. Eat and enjoy. Get really mad at me).

bLIMEY

Spring time is here! There's something about the sunshine that just makes things a little better. It's still been a bit chilly the past few days, but I prefer it that way. Once it gets over 70 degrees I'll be much too hot and grumpy to enjoy the sunshine. I tire quickly of the summer for that very reason.


One thing I never get tired of during the summer is key lime pie. You all know I love all things lemony, well, I also happen to adore all things limey. Key Lime Pie just happens to be one of my favorites. I've never attempted to make one before because I figured it would be really difficult and time consuming. But, I had a hankering for some key limey goodness, so I started looking at recipes online, and it turned out I was totally wrong. It took less than 10 minutes to put together and less than 10 minutes to bake. And only 5 ingredients! Basically, what all this great news boils down to is that my ass is about to get a lot bigger.


Also, I'm using someone else's photo because the lighting in my kitchen was garbage today while I was trying to take my own photos of my deliciously perfect pie. Mine wasn't nearly this lovely in its presentation, but we can pretend.

You will need:

1 prepared graham cracker crust

3 cups (about 2 14oz cans) sweetened condensed milk

1/2 cup sour cream

3/4 cup key lime juice (I used the bottled stuff)

1 tbsp lime zest

The recipe didn't call for it, but I used the juice of half a lime too

Preheat oven to 350. Mix condensed milk, sour cream, key lime juice and zest together in a bowl until nice and smooth. Pour into graham cracker crust. Bake for about 8 minutes. The recipe I used said to watch for the tiny bursting bubbles as a sign that it was done...I saw tiny bubbles, but no bursting, so I just baked it for about 8-10 minutes and it turned out great. Cool the pie completely before serving. Top with fresh whipped cream, because it's delicious and you know you want to. You could definitely also make your own graham cracker crust, but we all know I'm lazy.

This would be a real crowd pleaser. Throw yourself into the limelight with this sublime little treat. Har har.

Seriously, you have to try this recipe. It will blow your mind. It's a perfect mix of tart and creamy goodness.