Detachments LIVE and Simon A. Carr DJ set at The Beat (The Alibi) Friday 27th August. Free entry.

I ♥ Veggies

I climbed into my bed of lettuce last night, wrapped myself in swaddling clothes made out of cabbage leaves and prepared to see how my last post about vegetarians fared with readers. What a freakin' shit storm. This one really irked plenty of people and I was not expecting that at all. I mean, when I write about babies being annoying or old people getting on my nerves or a one eyed waitress, I expect some hatin', but this one caught me off guard. The funny thing is, I don't have a problem with vegetarians. I just can't ever imagine being one myself because of my long term relationship with gravy. Some of my best friends are vegetarians. My niece is a vegetarian. And yes, I have even eaten at vegetarian restaurants. I have seen "Food Inc" as was recommenced to me many times and I do eat grass fed organic beef and free range organic chicken and organic eggs. I don't think I wrote anything that was particularly mean about vegetarians, but I need to respond to a few comments that were a bit intense:

"How does the idea of breastmilk ice cream sound to you? conversely, why would you want to suck on a cows tittie for a drink? we are literally the only mammal to drink milk past infancy, let alone from another mammal." We are also the only mammal that wears clothing but I don't think we will all be running around naked anytime soon. And I am not going to give up ice cream but I don't want the breastmilk kind. Titties scare me.

"If you want to be sheltered about where your food comes from, fine. but you shouldn't make fun of people who are obviously more educated than you." I make fun of all people and I am the first to admit that most people are more educated than I am. They just aren't smarter.

"I expect better from you. first foreigners, now this? you should make your next rant about how niggers never tip you stupid fuck." Wow, this bitch really went there? How did she go from a simple post about vegetarians to me being a racist? Fuck her.

"But the BIG POINT: Vegetarians are no fun." I beg to differ. I never once insulted veggies. I am going out to dinner tonight with one and I expect to have a very fun time. She drinks. A lot.

"No longer a fan due to this post." I simply cannot believe that this post was the one that broke that camel's bitchy back. If you reread the post. I don't think I ever was mean about anyone. All I said was it can be a little annoying when we have to accommodate our menu to serve their dietary needs. Get over it.

"Very offensive and not funny at all. and I'm NOT a veggie. disappointed in this, especially by all the idiot comments." Reread my post. I was not offensive. It was the comments that took it to the next level. It's not like I was talking about vegetables and referred to them as Terry Schiavo. Now that would have been offensive. But I didn't do that.

"I agree with the idea that all living creatures have a place on this earth. sometimes that place is next to the mashed potatoes." True. Enough said.

So let us put this issue behind us and live as one big happy family and share the love. By the way, vegans? Now they're complete asswipes.

Detachments Live at World Unknown August 13th 2010

Detachments Live at World Unknown August 13th 2010











Detachments live at The Alibi in Dalston Friday 27th August. Free entry.

Holiday Romance out 6th September.

Debut album out 20th September.

On tour from 21st September.

Vegetarians Confuse Me

I don't get vegans. At all. I mean I understand what they are, I just can't comprehend how they actually want to be one. Maybe its because I grew up in the land of meat and potatoes where the closest thing I ever got to a vegetable was a Bac-o on my baked potato. Oh sure, Mom would open a can of English peas every now and then but that was a mere gesture at the five major food groups. The peas were a facade. I ignored them and had double helpings of Hamburger Helper with Kraft macaroni and cheese. But vegans don't just avoid eating meat. No no no. They have to be so aware of the suffering of animals that they won't even eat cheese because it came from a cow that may have lived a difficult life in order to produce milk. Tough titty said the kitty, but the milk's still good. I find it hard to trust anyone who doesn't eat cheese. Or they won't wear a belt because the leather came from that same sad cow. So what, I'm supposed to wear vinyl shoes and a pleather belt? I saw Alicia Silverstone on Oprah a few weeks ago and she was praising the benefits of veganism. "My skin is clearer, my bowel movements are better, my attitude is happier..." You know what, Alicia? Take some Proactiv®, swallow some Metamucil® with a Paxil® chaser and you'll be fine. Then have some fucking nachos with grilled fucking chicken on 'em. So, what if a vegan raised a baby chicken into adulthood and it lived in the backyard and had the most perfect of lives? The chicken was fed only natural grains, it was showered with love and it got to sit in the coop all day and watch Jerry Springer and Bewitched (my dream afternoon, by the way). One day that chicken pops out an egg. And a vegan wouldn't want to scramble that bitch up? I don't get it.

I hate when vegetarians come into a restaurant and act all offended that the menu has only a few options for them. "What do you mean you don't have a veggie burger? What am I supposed to eat?" "Gee, how about a piece of toast and a glass of water or take your ass down the street to the Grass and Greens Veggie Delite Hut. Whatever." Or there are those vegetarians who will order the chicken noodle soup and just take the chicken out before they eat it. Does that count as being a vegetarian? I don't think so. Or they will order fries; the fries that are fried in the same oil as chicken wings? Does that count? Vegans are the worst though. They will look at the menu for thirty minutes and then try to concoct something that will not cross the imaginary line they drew for themselves. God forbid they should get a piece of bleu cheese in their cobb salad. A cobb salad with no chicken, no cheese, no egg, no bacon is not a cobb salad. It's just a sad salad. I personally order my cobb salad with less lettuce, extra cheese and extra bacon and ranch dressing. But hey, I'm not a vegan. Or vegetarian. I am carnivore, hear me roar.

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I Am Not an Animal, Part Two

I am not an animal. I may not be Brad Pitt, but I am not an animal. (If you have not seen me before, then I am in fact a dead ringer for Brad Pitt when he was in Thelma and Louise. Seriously, a dead ringer.) Everyone must have feelings of self doubt and insecurity but sometimes in this world people just bitch slap you in the face with a hearty dose of reality soup and make any self esteem that you may have once had plummet into a canyon of nothingness. I have even written about this before. A friend of mine was telling me how she was sick of looking for a new waiting job and it reminded me of something that happened to me a few years ago.

I was in Chelsea walking up and down Eighth Avenue going into every restaurant and dropping of my resume. I came across a sign in a window that made my heart skip a beat because it actually said that they were hiring. Finally, my resume would go into the hands of someone who cared. When I walked in, I noticed two guys filling out applications at the bar. They were both your typical Chelsea boy: gay, muscly, hot and modelesque. Pulling out my resumé, I head to the bar and ask to fill out an application. With all the years of experience in my back pocket, the application seemed like a mere formality. "Hi, I'd like to fill out an application for the server position." The tanned and toned bartender looked at me and paused. He rolled his eye-lined eyes a bit and, "Oh, we're not hiring anymore." I looked at the guy to the left of me diligently filling out his application and then looked at the guy to the right of me filling out his. They both seemed to be figuring out how to spell their own names. Models are dumb. "I'm sorry, what? I asked. The bartender said, "Yeah we're not accepting anymore applications because the position has been filled." I scratched my head and looked at the applications being filled out not two feet away from me. "But you have a sign that says you're hiring." Pause. "Nope, not anymore. Position's been filled." I started to protest and realized that any words I said would be falling upon deaf ears. The words would be landing in the same place that the two hot guys would be landing their facials later. And I was fairly certain that the position wasn't the only thing that was going to be filled that day. With a bad case of sour grapes, I left the restaurant. I didn't wanna work there anyway. Right? Assholes.

With my self-worth in the gutter, I went out to Coney Island and filled out an application for the freak show.

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Frazzled But Happy Stay at Home Mom

Oh dear readers, maybe you read my last posts here or here, but I have just been so busy lately that there simply has not been time to write again. What with school starting next week for the oldest, I have been up to my eyeballs in preparation. So much to do. And I love it! LOL! Last night was back to school night at the elementary school and hubby and I went there to meet Suzy Lou's teacher and get her school supply list. Well, the funniest thing happened and you will not believe it. Or maybe you will, LOL. All we knew was that the teacher's name was Miss O'Brady. I certainly didn't know her because we were told this was her first year as a teacher at this school. (Someone told me she had been somewhere else last year, but changed schools for some unknown reason.) I dropped hubby off at the front entrance while I found a parking space for the minivan. (yes, I drove so that hubby was able to take a nap. The poor dear works so hard at the office.) When I walked towards Miss O'Brady's class room, I could hear laughing and joking and I was so eager to join the fun. I walked into the classroom and Miss O'Brady was sitting in hubby's lap and giggling as he tickled her. She was saying, "Oh Robert, you bad boy, stop it!" When they saw me walk in they both stopped laughing and I must admit I was a little bit confused. Within seconds hubby explained it all to me. It turns out that he used to babysit Miss O'Brady when she was little and they lived in the same neighborhood and they were just reliving the good ol' days. Isn't that an amazing coincidence? It's a small world, after all! I just know that Suzy Lou is going to have the best school year ever since we already have such a wonderful relationship with her teacher. Aren't I lucky to have such a wonderful husband who maintains friendships from so long ago?? (I love you hubby, if you're reading this! And if you are reading this, get back to work! JK. LOL!)

I must go now. I have to get to Wal-Mart to buy school supplies and I also need some new Shout stain remover. Hubby came home with lipstick on his collar again last night. Silly man! He's so clumsy that at least one a week he manages to let that happen. This time, he was helping a lady change her tire on the freeway and when he stopped to help her she hugged him. That must be how it happened. Oh well, at least it wasn't his fault. He was just helping a damsel in distress. My very own Prince Charming. Last week though, he tripped at the drug store and fell into he makeup counter. Be careful, dear! I love you too much to have you break your neck! LOL!


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A Response to "Foreigners Don't Tip"

When I wrote about how many times foreigners don't tip, I expected plenty of response from other waiters who were like, "no shit, Sherlock." Sorry, foreigners, it's true. A few people from other countries wrote to tell me that the articled had schooled them and they would be sure to tip correctly the next time they visit these shores. What surprised me was the people who were like, "yep, I'm foreign and I don't tip. Deal with it." Oh , hell no.

A Finlandian writes: I'm from Europe and no we do not tip. The way we think: "The waiters get their salary, and hey, the drinks were expensive enough". When I'm in US, I'm aware of the tipping system. But I too would leave just 3 bucks (considering that I only bought some drinks). 15% is waaay too much! For instance, if I spend fairly much on a couple of meals in a restaurant, with the 15% tip, I could already by myself another dessert at least.

Sorry.

What the fuck? I mean, I like your vodka and everything, but you're telling me that you know you should be tipping but you don't do it anyway because we already get our salary and you could buy a dessert instead? 15% is way too much I guess because we are already getting that huge paycheck each week for $8.00. Ladies and gentleman of the jury, I give you reasonable cause to hate it when anyone from Finland sits in your station. Had there been a photo of the reader attached to the comment, it would be plastered all over this page so everyone knows who to avoid.

Another reader comments: Sorry, tipping's difficult when it's not customary. I usually stick to $5 when I come over. Fuck working out 15% - if we're not from America, we're on holiday. Who does maths on holiday? Sorry bitchy waiter ... my family do tip ... just gotta hope we don't spend more than $50 at once, right?

Okay, so this person just claims math deficiency as the reason they don't tip? God forbid if he is on fucking holiday that he pulls out his iPhone with a calculator on it and figures out how to leave a decent tip. It's just a $5.00 blanket tip all around no matter what the bill is, is that it? Because math is too hard to. "Gee whiz, math is tough and I'm a cheapskate. Bloody good and cheers, mate." Fuck that shit. And ladies and gentleman, I give you reason number two to hate the tourists from other lands.

Attention tourists from other lands: please help break the stereotype. If you're on vacation, leave 15% to your server. It will only make it better for the next tourist from other lands who visit and maybe someday we can all love each other like one big happy family. World peace starts with a 15% tip. Remember that.

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