The Bitchy Waiter Makes National Television...Sorta

Last week, I ruffled a feather when I wrote about Reichen Lehmkuhl. You can read the original post here or the follow-up post here. I never intended for the post to become anything more than a brief mention, but when something stirs up controversy, I find it hard to stop bringing it up. A friend told me that when he was watching Reichen's new reality show on Logo, The A-List, Reichen mentioned a couple of reviews that he were written about his performance in his off-Broadway debut My Big Gay Italian Wedding. As it turns out, one of the reviews he read out loud was the one written by me. And I thought it was pretty cool.




And this concludes my blogging about Reichen Lehmkuhl.

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Gun Fight At The Not OK Corral

I have not written for two days because my feelings were so hurt by Anonymous that I have been crying in the corner and cutting myself with razor blades while I turn the lamp on and off for hours at a time. But I am back because I saw something that scared the hell out me. Apparently, gun laws are changing in many states that make it legal to carry a licensed and concealed weapon into bars and restaurants. Now I'm from Texas where guns are pretty much a regular thing. They're everywhere there. I remember on the first day of deer season some kids would skip class to go hunting with their dads. At birthday parties, you didn't hit the piñata with an old broom handle. You shot at that bitch with a sawed off shotgun and when it finally burst open, bullets and ammunition fell out of it with a couple of Pixy Stix and a Bazooka Bubblegum thrown in for good measure. Personally, I was never one for guns. I recall getting a BB gun when I was about ten years old. I shot a bird once and when it fell out of the tree and died in front of me I went crying into the house. My Grandma comforted me and my Grandpa rolled his eyes at what a disappointment I was to him. But I dunno how I feel about them being in a restaurant or bar where every Tom, Dick and Dirty Harry can feel free to shoot up the place the second his burger comes out overcooked.

Tennessee is one of four states, along with Arizona, Georgia and Virginia, that recently enacted laws explicitly allowing loaded guns in bars while eighteen other states allow weapons in restaurants that serve alcohol. Scary. Now I guess it all depends on if the servers are allowed to carry guns too. I suppose they will have a legal right to, but maybe the restaurant itself would disallow their employees the option. You know, in the hand book it would say shit like "your hair can't touch the collar of your shirt" and "you are not allowed to chew gum while on the floor" and "if a customer shoves a gun in your face because you forgot to put a lime in their Diet Coke instead of a lemon, you are shit out luck because your weapon must remain in your locker along with your cell phone and iPod." Bummer. I understand that people want guns for their own safety. After the recent shooting at The University of Texas, I hear that Governor Rick Perry wants to make guns legal on campuses. He says that if other people would have had guns then they could have stopped the gunman. Really? That makes no sense to me. It would be like the Old West with everyone trying to be the hero but shooting more people in the process.

Now there is no easy answer to this and I do not want to get all political and shit. I just don't like the idea of some drunk ass kicker who has a gun his pocket being able to have four Jack and Cokes and then getting mad when some other asswipe insults him. And I know the law says that if you have a gun on you, then you aren't supposed to be drinking alcohol. And I am just sure that people will follow that law. Just like they do with all the other things that are not supposed to happen when drinking alcohol: driving, going to work, drunk texting. It seems like a recipe for disaster. But that's just me.


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DETACHMENTS

Detachments debut album is out now on Thisisnotanexit Records. Featuring 11 tracks as recorded earlier this year in the coldest February for decades Detachments debut album is wildly ambitious and takes the 80s synthpop blueprint and updates it for a modernist oos audience. Imagine Hurts if they'd listened to Cabaret Voltaire and OMD and Depeche Mode rather than Westlife and the best of bits from The X Factor.

http://thisisnotanexitrecords.bigcartel.com/product/detachments-detachments-cd

You can also get a limited 300 only 12" of the new single Holiday Romance featuring remixes from Cosmo and Andy Blake. Andy Blakes 17 minute take has been called "the remix of the year" by Slutty Fringe and "brilliant" by Simian Mobile Disco. Sounding like Throbbing Gristle meets Phuture its a sensational redux.

http://thisisnotanexitrecords.bigcartel.com/product/detachments-holiday-romance-12

For those of you in London town Detachments will be celebrating the release of the album with a special London show at CAMP in Shoreditch on Tuesday 5th October.

Doors from 7.30pm. Tickets are £6.00.

http://www.ticketweb.co.uk/user?region=gb_london&query=detail&event=400117&referral_id=tw_uk_buyat

Final Detachments show in the UK for a while. They're heading off to France and Spain after this.

Butter(fly) Face

A few days ago, I saw the beginnings of what I thought was going to be a huge ass zit right on the tip of my nose. It seemed like it was primed to be one of those Mount Vesuvius bitches that could open up and swallow half my face. Or at the very least it would make me look like Rudolph the Red Nosed fucking reindeer. I Sea Breezed, Clearsiled, buffed and sanded that bitch off before it became a problem but it was not making me happy. I hate working when I have a pimple obstructing my view. I feel like customers are just staring at it the whole time they are telling me how they want their burger cooked. But sometimes we must go to work even when we feel we don't look our best.

Many years ago I took a one day job working for the zoo. (Honestly, I need to write a book about how many damn jobs I have had.) It was some stupid ass promotion announcing they had a new seal or baby tiger or something, I dunno. I had to go to Chelsea Piers early in the morning to find out what I had to do. Thankfully, I was doing this my friend Shane so I didn't feel completely lame, but it was pretty lame nonetheless. I was told I would be dressed as a butterfly that day and was supposed to walk around and interact with kids. (And believe it or not, that is not the only time I have played a butterfly. At the United States premiere of Teletubbies, I had to dress as a butterfly for four hours at Roseland ballroom. I need to put that shit under my special skills on my resume.) They handed me some bullshit wings that they must have gotten out of the leftover dollar bin at Party City and made me put on some pastel colored sweat pants. If I had known this was what I would be doing, I would have made a point to have Bloody Mary's first. Then they said they would paint my face. Great. Fine. Whatever. I just wanted the hundred bucks at the end of the five hours. On my forehead, they painted these white swirly things that were supposed to be antennas. They used some gloopy gloppy thick ass makeup and sent me on my way. Shane and I frolicked around like damn fools all day just waiting until we could get our hundred dollar bills and go home.

The next day, I woke up to see that my face was completely sunburned from being in the sun all day without any sunscreen. I was like lobster red. Except for where they had painted the antennas. That was perfectly pale. I had effectively sunburned a swirly design all across my forehead. I called Shane.

BW: Hello, Shane? It's me.
Shane: Oh my God! Do you have a sunburn on your fucking head from that damn make up yesterday like I do?
BW: I do.
Shane: Goddammit!

I went to work and had to watch every single table look at my face and try to figure out what the hell was going on up there. And it wasn't just that one day. That damn sunburn lasted a week, so I had about four or five shifts of constantly explaining that I was not in some cult. I was just stupid. One lady, said, "Why do you always have something on your face?" I didn't understand. "Aren't you the same guy who had that big scratch across your face a few weeks ago?" Oh yeah. I forgot. I had been wrestling with my ten week old puppy when I let my face get too close to his razor sharp puppy teeth. He gnashed me across the face leaving a three inch scrape across my cheek that required a tetanus shot. That was on my face for about two weeks. So, yes. I am that waiter who always has something on his face. Makes the Mount Vesuvius zit seem like molehill.


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Frazzled But Happy Stay-at-Home Mom

Heavens to Betsy, is it October already? My goodness, how has school already been in session for a whole month? And here I am not even started on the kids' Halloween costumes! Suzy Lou is going to be a gypsy and Billy Boo will be a hobo. They will look so adorable and I will make sure I post pictures of the kids. And before you ask, of course I am going to make their costumes from scratch. At first they wanted to just go to the Wal-Mart and buy their costumes. Billy wanted to be something called Iron Man and Suzy wanted to be a Pussy Cat Doll, but after some persuading they finally agreed that my ideas are much better. Cuter for sure, LOL.

Tomorrow the whole family is getting into the mini--van and driving to the local pumpkin patch to choose our jack-o-lantern. It will be so much fun. I have already made candied apples for the road and tomorrow morning I will make some homemade apple cider to put in our family size thermos. Goody! Hopefully hubby will be able to join us this year. Last year he got a tummy ache at the last minute and wasn't able to go. The poor thing had to stay in bed all day while we spent the afternoon admiring the fall colors and going on a hayride. He really wanted to go too, I could tell. But I insisted that he stay at home and take care of himself. He promised he would stay in bed all day even though we would be out having fun. I took down the Honey Do List from the refrigerator and made him pinky swear that he would not get off of that mattress. And when we got home, he was sound asleep in bed just as I knew he would be. The covers were a mess so I knew he had been tossing and turning all day. He must have had a terrible dream with night sweats because the sheets were even damp in a couple of places. And the bedroom had that funny bedroom smell that it gets sometimes. He told me that he stayed in bed the whole day and that when he wanted a drink of water he didn't want to break his promise. So what did he do? He called our neighbor Gloria over to get one for him. (Gloria, you are the sweetest divorcée I know and thank you for dropping what you were doing to come help hubby. And by the way, if your washing machine is still broken you can use ours anytime. Just don't forget your brassiere this time, silly goose!) Anyhoo, this year hubby will be fine for our Autumnal outing, (I wuv you, Hubby! Can't wait for tomorrow!)

Well, I must be going. It's Saturday and I haven't even baked my bread, ironed my sheets, waxed the floor or clipped my coupons yet. Hubby worked late last night so I let him sleep in today and I mowed the lawn for him this morning. Rest up, sweetie! Tomorrow we get to go find a pumpkin, pun'kin! LOL!

You can read more of my posts here.


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Germs in a Bowl

I have discussed how lemons are filthy disgusting germy fruits and also that ketchup bottles make me wanna throw up when I have to use one at a restaurant, but let us talk about another source of bacteria that restaurants and bars seem to turn a bind eye to: those little bowls of pretzels or nuts that sit on a bar top. Who the hell eats that shit? We all know they're there in order to make the customer get thirsty and order another drink, right? It's pretty smart actually. Buy a huge barrel of cheap ass pretzels from Costco for five bucks and then serve them over the course of one night. Joe Blow sits at the bar and wolfs 'em down and in the process buys two more beers that cost six bucks each. I read somewhere that those little bowls of peanuts have more fecal matter in them than an actual toilet. How is that even possible? You may as well just scoop up a pile of dog shit off the sidewalk, pour it into a bowl and call it Goldfish. Think about it. I see men all the time who leave the bathroom without washing their hands and then they're gonna to go to the bar and reach into that bowl of snacks and spread their nasty ass, pee-ridden, feces-covered, germy ass hands all over them. And who the hell doesn't wash their hands after they use the bathroom? They use the excuse that "my penis is cleaner than anything in that bathroom, so why bother?" Uh, because I don't want to eat a peanut that just touched your hand that just touched your dick, that's why. (Side note: I saw a very famous Tony Award winning actor once leave the bathroom without even glancing at the soap. Nasty. And then they probably went right up to the bar and grabbed a handful of free popcorn that was sitting in a bowl.)

A few days ago, I had a small glass of Goldfish at the bar to snack on. It was sitting there on the bar just minding its own business. After the show, I saw a woman from the audience go to the glass of my Goldfish and reach in and grab a handful. "Oh, a snack," she said as she swirled her possibly tampon-touching fingers around my glass of Goldfish. Excuse me? Why would anyone just meander up to some random food and start eating it? What if they were there because I had just swept them off the floor? Or what if I had sprinkled cyanide all over them just to teach someone like her a lesson? (Side note to self: buy cyanide.) I watched her eat a few and then when I was sure she had had her fill, I picked them up and threw them into the trash.

So, should we eat those complimentary snacks at the bar? No, we shouldn't. They are little bowls of contamination that can make us sick. They are disgusting and gross and no one in their right mind should be eating food that can be and is touched by multitudes of people with dirty hands. Will we eat those complimentary snacks at the bar? Absolutely. There is nothing I like better with a beer than a nice salty crunchy bite of bacteria ridden pretzel. Bon appetit!



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Dear Bitchy Waiter

Thursday means it's time for some heartfelt advice from The Bitchy Waiter. Do you have an issue that The Bitchy Waiter can help you with? Job, personal, relationships? You name it. You can email me here and I will answer one question a week. Or just email me to say hello. It makes me happy. Let's see what we find in the mailbag today:

Dear Bitchy Waiter,

First off, let me say that I am a huge fan. Your blog is very hilarious all the time and whatnot. But anyways I need to ask you something. I have this friend, and to put it mildly he is a complete jackass. He is always talking about how he wants to hang out with me, and spend time with me, and blah blah blah but on the rarity that we do hang out he is on his god damn i-phone the whole fucking time. I have seriously considered just chucking his phone at the wall, or into the toilet, or out a window...something that would cause it some harm, but I don't want to piss him off cause he can be a good friend...sometimes. Anyways, what would you do?

Signed,
Friend of a dumbshit.


Dear Friend of a Dumbshit,

Thank you for your kind words about the blog. Your friend sounds like he cares more about his i-Phone than his friendship with you. If you think he is a dumbshit and a jackass, then why do you want to bother trying to salvage the relationship? Okay, okay, so he can be a good friend some of the time, but don't you want people in your life who can be a good friend all of the time? That is a decision you will have to make. I do have a couple of suggestions though for the next time you spend time with this jackass dumbshit that might make things better for you.

Why don't you schedule a certain time to hang out with him-very specific, like Friday from 4:00 to 6:00. In the meantime go to the "casual encounters" section of your local craigslist and set up an ad for your friend. Make him sound like he's be really fun to get to know and then post his cell phone number on the ad but say they can only call on Friday between 4:00 and 6:00. That way, the next time you hang out together, he can still be on his i-Phone all the time just like normal, but you will get a kick out of it too. (Beware: I think this is totally illegal...) It's a win win situation.

Another thing you can do is simply tell him that if he really wants to hang out then you need him to take a fucking chill pill from the goddamn i-Phone. I know some people like that and it's fucking annoying. Your friend needs to hear it. This is probably the most mature way to handle things but personally, I go for the whole passive aggressive craigslist casual encounters prank. Immature? Yes. Funny as hell? Yes, indeed. Good luck!

Love,
The Bitchy Waiter

You can read more great Bitchy Waiter advice here.






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