The Grossest Thing Ever....
If you are a bride, or groom.....or a sensitive, kind, caring food person......tune out, do not read further.
Really. You have been warned: this is a Blog....not a cutesey little PR site run by John Pisto's PR chick.
Awrighty then......
It has long been known that a normal person should never break bread with a restaurant person. Chefs are bad....but waitresses are right up there in the pantheon. And...we tend to save the really grotesque stuff for the dining table.....It is kind of like cop humor: big yucks at the autopsy, because humor keeps away the truly awful stuff.
I have been long known as a defender of the waiting class. This is why, despite missing many important neuro-transmitters and any kind of basic impulse control.....I can still rally to my side the best waitresses on the planet....however briefly. I once married a waitress, just to get her to work for me. You think I am kidding, right?
Example 1) As a late night guest at Rio Grill, tired and hungry......I witness Restaurant Godess Kimberly trying to 86 a rowdy group of golf scum. One of the golf wenches takes exception and throws her drink in Kimberly's face. I am so offended that I grab the chick by the throat with one hand, slam her up against the wall and make a citizen's arrest for assault. I speed dial the sheriff with one hand, and then speed-dial Tom Nash, my lawyer. And Kimberly's lawyer in the civil assault case that brewed. Oh, yeah.....the Rio fired her.
Example 2) At Silver Jones for lunch....beseiged by the blue haired crowd: sharing a salad, sharing a glass of wine, hanging out past 2pm when everyone wants to close and go home to their children.....a table of two LOL's....seated right by the front door, feet from the waitress station. The girls are closing out, yakking waitress stuff.....hot flashes, STD's, yeast infections, suppurating lesions, awful dates with tiny-dicked musicians.....
The LOL's call me over: "Michael. We are trying to enjoy our lunch, and the language from those girls is just appalling and grotesque. The obscenities and profanity! We are shocked, and we really can never come here again....."
My response:
"Oh, Fuck! I am so fucking sorry!" The LOL's scrambled for the door.......
I also am a survivor of Telluride, Colorado in the early days. We had the Sheridan in 1974 and 1975, before Tom Cruise and the jetport. Our bar was rowdy: the Rico Freekos were a bank robbing co-op from the next town over, and the boys would support the Rico girls' softball team with Thompson submachine guns in the bar. (Concealed weapons: bad; unconcealed machine guns: not a problem in the world). Our juke box was hard to read because of the razor scratches from all the lines chopped on the glass. Three men for every woman, and the highest suicide rate in North America.
Still, the bar down the street was worse than the Sheridan. Libel laws and brain damage hide the name from memory. They had an early version of the wet t-shirt contest. The grossest public event I had seen until tonight was at this bar. One of the contestants got carried away, and actually removed all her damp clothing and was dancing naked on the bar. It was that time of the month, and the little string was dangling to the beat of Steve Miller. One of the overwhelming numbers of young mountaineers was overcome by .......something.....and lunged, grasped the item in his teeth, and yanked. Wooo-hooo! Brass ring! What a crowd pleaser!
That was my grossest restaurant moment until tonight. We did a rehearsal dinner for our wedding tomorrow at The Store. Country band, nice food, hillbilly bocce, open bar, Joe Kovacs brand new wine in jugs from the carboy. Young people and old, vegetarians and rednecks, alchies and non-drinkers. Couple of babies, couple of octogenarians. Salad, entrée, dessert.
Clearing the entrées, suddenly I noticed my girls all aflutter.....seriously pissed. I drifted over to see what was up. They were gathered around a plate by the bussing station: chicken bones, a little wild rice......AND A GOOEY, STINKY DIAPER!!! laid out on the plate for them to buss.
The self absorbed, self righteous, vegetarian, teetotalling mom changed the baby on the table in the middle of the dining room and dumped the diaper on the plate for the waitress to carry away.
Jesus wept.
This kind of obtuse, grotesque, ignorant, violent disregard for the sensibilities of your fellow man....especially your fellow working man......seems to becoming pandemic. Forget the bird flu. There is no vaccine for this kind of ignorant self-absorbtion.
You need to take a test to drive a car.....but anyone can have children. Where was Andrea Yates when she was needed.....about 25 years ago in Carmel.
There was a time, not so long ago......at least in my memory.....when someone could destroy their reputation by wearing seersucker or a straw hat after Labor Day. Changing a poopy diaper at a table in a restaurant and dropping the mess on a dinner plate for the waitress would have caused a social riot.
This may be The End of Times.
Really. You have been warned: this is a Blog....not a cutesey little PR site run by John Pisto's PR chick.
Awrighty then......
It has long been known that a normal person should never break bread with a restaurant person. Chefs are bad....but waitresses are right up there in the pantheon. And...we tend to save the really grotesque stuff for the dining table.....It is kind of like cop humor: big yucks at the autopsy, because humor keeps away the truly awful stuff.
I have been long known as a defender of the waiting class. This is why, despite missing many important neuro-transmitters and any kind of basic impulse control.....I can still rally to my side the best waitresses on the planet....however briefly. I once married a waitress, just to get her to work for me. You think I am kidding, right?
Example 1) As a late night guest at Rio Grill, tired and hungry......I witness Restaurant Godess Kimberly trying to 86 a rowdy group of golf scum. One of the golf wenches takes exception and throws her drink in Kimberly's face. I am so offended that I grab the chick by the throat with one hand, slam her up against the wall and make a citizen's arrest for assault. I speed dial the sheriff with one hand, and then speed-dial Tom Nash, my lawyer. And Kimberly's lawyer in the civil assault case that brewed. Oh, yeah.....the Rio fired her.
Example 2) At Silver Jones for lunch....beseiged by the blue haired crowd: sharing a salad, sharing a glass of wine, hanging out past 2pm when everyone wants to close and go home to their children.....a table of two LOL's....seated right by the front door, feet from the waitress station. The girls are closing out, yakking waitress stuff.....hot flashes, STD's, yeast infections, suppurating lesions, awful dates with tiny-dicked musicians.....
The LOL's call me over: "Michael. We are trying to enjoy our lunch, and the language from those girls is just appalling and grotesque. The obscenities and profanity! We are shocked, and we really can never come here again....."
My response:
"Oh, Fuck! I am so fucking sorry!" The LOL's scrambled for the door.......
I also am a survivor of Telluride, Colorado in the early days. We had the Sheridan in 1974 and 1975, before Tom Cruise and the jetport. Our bar was rowdy: the Rico Freekos were a bank robbing co-op from the next town over, and the boys would support the Rico girls' softball team with Thompson submachine guns in the bar. (Concealed weapons: bad; unconcealed machine guns: not a problem in the world). Our juke box was hard to read because of the razor scratches from all the lines chopped on the glass. Three men for every woman, and the highest suicide rate in North America.
Still, the bar down the street was worse than the Sheridan. Libel laws and brain damage hide the name from memory. They had an early version of the wet t-shirt contest. The grossest public event I had seen until tonight was at this bar. One of the contestants got carried away, and actually removed all her damp clothing and was dancing naked on the bar. It was that time of the month, and the little string was dangling to the beat of Steve Miller. One of the overwhelming numbers of young mountaineers was overcome by .......something.....and lunged, grasped the item in his teeth, and yanked. Wooo-hooo! Brass ring! What a crowd pleaser!
That was my grossest restaurant moment until tonight. We did a rehearsal dinner for our wedding tomorrow at The Store. Country band, nice food, hillbilly bocce, open bar, Joe Kovacs brand new wine in jugs from the carboy. Young people and old, vegetarians and rednecks, alchies and non-drinkers. Couple of babies, couple of octogenarians. Salad, entrée, dessert.
Clearing the entrées, suddenly I noticed my girls all aflutter.....seriously pissed. I drifted over to see what was up. They were gathered around a plate by the bussing station: chicken bones, a little wild rice......AND A GOOEY, STINKY DIAPER!!! laid out on the plate for them to buss.
The self absorbed, self righteous, vegetarian, teetotalling mom changed the baby on the table in the middle of the dining room and dumped the diaper on the plate for the waitress to carry away.
Jesus wept.
This kind of obtuse, grotesque, ignorant, violent disregard for the sensibilities of your fellow man....especially your fellow working man......seems to becoming pandemic. Forget the bird flu. There is no vaccine for this kind of ignorant self-absorbtion.
You need to take a test to drive a car.....but anyone can have children. Where was Andrea Yates when she was needed.....about 25 years ago in Carmel.
There was a time, not so long ago......at least in my memory.....when someone could destroy their reputation by wearing seersucker or a straw hat after Labor Day. Changing a poopy diaper at a table in a restaurant and dropping the mess on a dinner plate for the waitress would have caused a social riot.
This may be The End of Times.
posted by Txacoli at 11:00 PM
1 Comments:
Michael
Back in the day I had this killer spread in the high Sierra Nevada’s and on the 4th of July weekend in 1982 I had a similar experience.
As I was tooling around on my Kubota 4X4 tractor, I heard this heavy iron CAT diesel running at the bottom of the driveway. I arrived just in time to see a million dollar Blue Bird RV pulling away up the up the state highway... It had a 5 letter personalized CA plate.
Then I saw what they left for me...The contents of their mobile septic tank and a two-day supply of well-used Pampers. So I fetched a 24x30x18 inch box and three 50 gal. trash bags. I put all the solids and the Pampers in the triple lined trash bag. Put it all into the box and left it on the barn floor.
After a great leg of lamb dinner and a good bottle of California Cab I called my old Vietnam buddy Ace. Ace was also a Capt with the CHP... "Ace can you run a plate for me?" He called back in quick order with a name and residential address in Beverly Hills.
I knew what I had to do... Tuesday morning when Joe the UPS driver showed up I shipped "The Box" complete with Styro Popcorn and four red bricks for ballast, collect, Blue Label, with a note telling the lovely flat landers that I was returning their lost property... The bastards paid the collect frt. on their AMX card and never sent me a thank you note.
Best
Bennie
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