Homosexual Hounds

Vacation is going swimmingly well. While I am at the pool, why don't you read about some gay dog in Australia.

xo,
The Bitchy Waiter


I was perusing the internet news the other day trying to find something to pique my interest when I came across a news item that happened at a restaurant down under. In Australia. I don't know what those people are sprinkling on their Vegemite sandwiches, but they might be a bit crazy. But then again all my knowledge about Australia comes from Crocodile Dundee and Men at Work so what do I know?

Apparently, this blind man wanted to go eat at a Thai restaurant so he asked a waiter if it would be alright if he came in with his guide dog. (There was a sign saying guide dogs were welcomed, but maybe someone missed the memo that said blind people don't read signs. It's like those signs on the subway that ask if you want to learn how to read and speak English, but the sign is in English so anyone who may benefit from the sign can't fucking read the sign. Vicious vicious circle. Anyhoo.) So the waiter went to ask the owners if it was alright for the dog to come in but he didn't hear the word "guide" dog. The stupid ass waiter heard "gay" dog. Uh huh. And then the owners said no the dog couldn't come in because it was gay. Okay, all together now: what the fuckity fuck fuck? This is wrong on so many levels. Even if this was an actual homosexual canine who liked to get it on with members of the same sex, why would that be the reason the dog couldn't come in? They were going to persecute this dog because they thought it was gay? How stupid was the waiter to see a blind man and not know that it was a guide dog? Now if Elton John had sashayed into the restaurant wearing a frilly frock while holding a dildo and a big pink poodle, sure: gay dog. But a blind man with sunglasses, a cane and a dog with a handle on it? Gay dog? No, dumb ass. Guide dog.

The man left the restaurant and then presumably filed a complaint and blah blah blah. But when the owners were explaining the situation to the court, they said if they would have known it was a guide dog, it would have been fine. They just thought the dog was gay and that was why it wasn't welcome. I don't know these restaurant owners, but I pretty much hate them. They seem small minded, ignorant, rude and clueless. Basically, your typical restaurant owner/manager. They had to issue the blind dude an apology and pay him $1400 in compensation. And in Australia, $1400 buys a lot of Vegemite.

And in case you are wondering, Vegemite is is "a dark brown Australian food paste made from yeast extract. It is a spread for sandwiches, toast, crumpets and cracker biscuits and and filling for pastries." Thanks Wikipedia.

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Scamming for Free Food

I am on vacation so you are forced to read this old tired summer rerun of a post. If I can pull myself away from the cocktails, I will write something new. In the meantime, this is all there is. My apologies.

xo,
The Bitchy Waiter

Someone posted something the other day (shout out to Rebecca) that made me remember an event that happened years ago. She was mentioning that age old custom of giving your tables a survey or comment card to fill out to ensure that they had wonderful service and enjoyed their crappy pre-cooked food. Most of the time, people will only bother filling out a form when they want to complain about something. No one ever takes the time to really compliment you on these things except on very rare occasions. The little forms suck, but there is a way you can make them work for you rather than against you. It just takes some effort. And stamps.

When I was working at the now defunct Houlihan's in lovely Times Square, we were always busy with tons of tourists who came into the restaurant because of its familiarity. Don't ask me why anyone would get into an airplane and travel hundreds or thousands of miles and then end up eating dinner at a place that is also in their local mall. But people did. I guess once you're in New York you get so homesick that you need nachos and Sysco food products. Now we didn't have comment cards or surveys there but plenty of times people would ask to speak to a manager in order to complain about the quality of food or their service. It was always surprising to me when people thought their steak or salmon tasted less than ideal or that they thought the service was sub-par. C'mon. It's Houlihan's. In Times Square, for fuck's sake. Of course everything there will suck ass. Eventually I had had enough of people dissing my service. Granted, my service sucked, but I was sick of bitches telling my manager about it. I devised a plan. A very special Bitchy Waiter plan.

One night I typed a letter from a "customer" that praised my serving skills. I went on an and on about how I went above and beyond their expectations. How I recommended what they would like the most on the menu and then how delicious the food was. I even wrote some fake ass bullshit about how good I was with their children and how I made them laugh and finish their veggies. I also wrote that I suggested which Broadway shows they would enjoy. Basically, I said that I was an angel sent from Heaven so that I could serve at Houlihan's. I then put that letter into an envelope, stamped it and addressed it to Houlihan's. Then I put that envelope into another envelope and sent it to my friend who lived in Georgia and mailed it to him. When Ron got the letter, all he had to do was drop it back into a mailbox so it would be postmarked Georgia and no one would ever suspect that I wrote it about myself.

A few days later, the letter appeared. My manager was elated. She was so proud of me that she stapled the letter to the bulletin board so everyone could see what high standards they needed to live up to. I was the superstar waiter of Houlihan's Times Square. Only a couple of people knew that I wrote that shit myself while most people just couldn't believe that someone would write that about me. But there it was in black and white and hanging in the kitchen. And it was postmarked from Georgia so it must be true. The letter stayed there for a few weeks. Best of all, my manager rewarded me with a $50 gift card for TGIFridays. Yep. And all it cost me was about ten minutes of time and two stamps. It really is one of my proudest moments. My manager would be so disappointed if she knew the truth. There was no family in Athens, Georgia who loved me. I'm sorry, Gladys. But thanks for the free food.

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The Dark Esquire - LEXICONS VIDEO

Available August 9th at Juno Download.

Download release features single version plus remixes from Premier Rang and Detachments.

Available beginning of September 3D sleeve 12" if you pre-order here:

http://www.pledgemusic.com/projects/lexicons

12" release features extended 12" version plus remixes from Premier Rang and Mirror People.

Bad Parenting

So my vacation officially starts today and I had already planned to have a repost happen. However, divinity stepped in and inspired me to write one more thing before I switch over to automatic (read: lame ass) pilot. I was on the F train yesterday headed out to Brooklyn to drop the dog at the kennel. The train was packed with people who were on their way to the loveliness that is Coney Island. By the way, this has nothing to do with waiting tables, but it does have to do with annoying parents and obnoxious children and the two pretty much go hand in hand.

It baffles me that so many people will have children and then treat those children like complete and total dirt. There were two moms on the train with their cumulative five kids. The one mom that was across from me was wearing the requisite fat lady outfit of tight blouse and black stretch pants. When a woman gets over a certain weight, do they just automatically receive black stretch pants in the mail? Is that how it works? Her shirt was black and white horizontal stripes and she was looking like the Pillsbury Dough Zebra. I think she missed the mass text that said horizontal is not flattering. She had on earphones so she was talking way too loud to the other mother. She would ask her a question and then say "wha?" when she couldn't hear the answer. She'd roll her eyes and sigh because she had to physically exert herself to remove the earphones, but then she would put them back in, ask a question and say "wha?" again. Stupid. Her daughter was about four years old and really fat. It makes me sad when I see an obese kid because I know that the only reason they are like that is because of what the parent feeds them. And sure enough. When the little girl started to cry, the mother got her to be quiet by giving her a McDonald's apple pie.

The other mom spent the whole time yelling at her kids to shut up. She had a baby in a stroller who was screaming at the top of his lungs the whole ride. Like everyone on the train was looking at each other with that knowing glance that says, "damn, that lady is one crappy ass mother." The screaming mother had this conversation with the baby:

Baby: Waaaa!
Mother: Shut the hell up!
Baby: Waaaa!
Mother: Whad are youse freakin' cryin' 'bout? You the only one even comfortable here with a seat.
Baby: Waaaa!
Mother: I don't even like you!
Baby: Waaa!

Now, I am not fluent in baby or anything but I am pretty sure he was saying, "oh my God, I can't wait until I am old enough to walk so I can run away from home. Seriously? You're my mother? Somebody save me. Shaken baby syndrome would be better than living with this bitch." I felt bad for those kids. I imagined them in my station and how awful they would be because the mothers didn't know how to teach their kids. I felt really bad. For some reason it made me sad and I got a bit teary eyed. As the water welled up in the corner of my eye, ready to make its way down my cheek I suddenly remembered I was starting my vacation. Woo hooo!! Vacation, here I come!


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Ahh, New Jersey, How Do I Love Thee?

My first day back to work after three weeks off was as special as I had hoped it would be. I got a ten top from New Jersey who wanted separate checks. Ten. Separate. Checks. What the fuck, New Jersians? New Jerseyites? What in the hell do they call themselves anyway? There are New Yorkers and Texans but what are people from New Jersey? For now, I'll just call them assholes. I convinced the assholes to find a partner so I could give them five checks instead of ten and they were okay with that, but fuck they were on my nerves. The women looked like rejects from The Real Housewives of Poor White Trash New Jersey. They had come all the way into the big city to live it up in my station.

One lady wanted a glass of wine. "Hmmm, do you have white zinfandel?" Why was I not surprised at that request? "Yes, ma'am, we do. Is that what you'd like?" She tilted her head to think about it and as she tilted it, I was pretty sure I could see part of her brain slipping out of her left ear trying to escape and see the light of day. "That's like a rosé, right?" It isn't, but I told her it was pink and she was satisfied. When I brought it out, she told me she had an idea. This is what it looks like when someone stupid has an idea. Do the following: tilt your head, purse your lips, raise your eyebrows and inhale all at once. Did you do it? Do it again. This is what she did and then said, "bring me a drop of seltzer, a drop of ice and a lemon wedge. I'm gonna make me a wine spritzer." After she farted out that idea she looked around for validation like she thought someone would bestow the Pulitzer upon her for such brilliance. She thought she just invented the wheel. Instead, she had just reaffirmed that I hated her.

Another lady wanted a bite to eat. "Maybe I want hummus." But she pronounced it who-miss. This is the conversation she had with herself and the people around her who pretty much ignored her. "Do I want whomiss? I dunno. Honey, do I want whomiss? Would you eat whomiss if I bought a whomiss. I dunno if I want whomiss or not. Do I like whomiss? Would anyone wanna split a whomiss wid me if I bought a whomiss? I think I wanna try the whomiss." She ordered the whomiss. But first, "Are the pita chips fried? They aren't fried, are they because I don't want fried." I assured her that we do not fry the pita chips. Which is true. All we do is open up a bag of pita chips. Maybe someone else fries them, but we surely don't.

They ended up tipping me pretty well and they all ordered their two drink minimum. When they left, their glasses had huge lipstick smears on them and the air wreaked of spray tan and Britney Spears' Curious Eau de Parfum available at K-Mart for $20.64. I was back at work. Life was good.

And seriously, what do people from New Jersey call themselves? And people from Massachusetts too while you're at it.


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SIMON A. CARR DJ CHART JULY 2010

Simon A. Carr DJ Chart July 2010

1. Cold Phoenix - La Fleur Du Destin (Airplane)

2. Command V - Lost On Me (An Optimo Espacio Remix) (Thisisnotanexit)

3. Factor Floor - Lying (Chris Carter Remix) (Blast First)

4. Brian Eno & Robert Fripp - Swastika Girls (Polydor)

5. Spectral Empire - Acid Neutraliser Sub (Thisisnotanexit)

6. The Dark Esquire - Lexicons (Premier Rang Remix) (Thisisnotanexit)

7. Night Plane - Str8 2 Ur Heart (Thisisnotanexit)

8. Son Of Sam - Nature Makes A Mistake (Running Back)

9. Simple Minds - Theme For Great Cities (Naum Gabo Reversion) (cd-r)

10. Detachments - Holiday Romance (Andy Blake's Mix For A World Unknown) (Thisisnotanexit)

Rep. Tom Emmer (R) Makes Me Puke

Okay, so I don't live in Minnesota so I can't really judge this delusional asshole politician. Far be it from me to make assumptions about someone simply based on one single article I read online, but Minnesota state Rep. Tom Emmer sounds like a supreme douchebag of asshats. Like if the president was looking to fill a seat for the Supreme Court of Dickwads, this guy would be a shoe in. If he wins the governership he wants to cut the hourly wage of waiters in Minnesota to $2.13 an hour from the $5.25-$6.15 an hour they make now. He lives in one of the seven states that are not allowed to pay servers below the federal minimum wage. First off, I wanna know what the other six states are, because I had no idea. I am sweating my server balls off over here in New York City for $4.60 an hour. I guess the upside of that is that I live in New York City instead of Minnesota. I don't know jack shit about Minnesota except that Mary Tyler Moore was a television producer there in Minneapolis in the '70's and she worked for Lou Grant.

Representative Emmer wants to help the small businesses and restaurants and let them pay their servers almost 2/3 less. "With the tips that they get to take home, they [sic] are some people earning over $100,000 a year. More than the very people providing the jobs and investing not only their life savings but their families' future," says Rep. Douchebag. Where are these Minnesotans working where they are taking home that much money? Or do I need to move my ass there right now because people tip something like 150% on every check? He made this announcement at Eagle Street Grille in St. Paul and said that some of the employees there make that much money. The owner of the restaurant said there are actually a couple of people out of his staff of 45 who do in fact bank that much money. But Emmer went to a restaurant to make this announcement? I hope he didn't order a glass of lemonade after his little press conference because if he did you know some bitchy ass waiter hocked a loogie up in there first.

Why can't he just let it be? If anything, we should have some politician raising a ruckus in the other 43 states because so many servers make $2.13 an hour. But no, he wants to shake things up a bit and try to save some money for the business owners and screw the workers. And judging by his picture, he spends plenty of time in restaurants. I bet he eats two or three Awesome Blossoms for a snack and drinks Thousand Island dressing out of a Big Gulp cup. What an asshole.

If you want to tell Mr. Emmer hello, click here. That's his website. Send him an email. I'm sure he'd love to hear from you. And tell him The Bitchy Waiter says hello. And if you want more people to know about this guy, feel free to pass this on.

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