6.28.2007

So that's where they all are

I went to Smitty's on the weekend and found out where all the ugly servers are. I'm guessing it's not just the one franchise but all crappy food chains.

The service is just as good if not better than anywhere else. They're just not as pleasing on the eyes.

The waitress hierarchy:

Gorgeous girls find work in Nightclubs. Fake breasts and little clothing will get a job at one of the city's top five hot spots.

Cute girls will be able to find work in pubs. I know. At my place of business, we don't even look at the resume if the girl doesn't meet the required superficial standards. It's not sexist. We do the same for the male bartenders. (I got my job because I'm stuck in the back out of plain view. It doesn't matter what I look like. I just had to be stupid enough to accept the position.)

The rest of the serving population have to fight for the crap jobs. They have to sling eggs 24 hours a day. They have to scrounge for tips because the menus have the cheapest food ever and the 15% commission doesn't amount to much. Male servers can also be found here. No drunk guy in a pub want's to be served by a man.

6.25.2007

It finally happened...

My final class of the semester landed on Thursday, June 21. It was the 15th class of the course and for one student it was very special.

My classmate was a want-to-be keener. He shouted out the answer to every question the prof asked. Unfortunately, he didn't get a correct answer throughout the entire two months.

"What's the first thing you do when solving an simple annuity?"
"Untie your shoes."
"How do you find the balance owing on a mortgage after 23 payments?"
"Gargle some water."

I sat in my desk in pain. Was he really this stupid? Were we actually in the same class? I felt bad for the teacher. The teacher must have been frustrated. The lone do-gooder in the class was probably partially retarded.

Midway through the last class, he blasted out, yet another, incorrect response. It was then I vowed to put him out of his misery. I'd walk over and use a jedi mind trick. I'd levitate him out of his desk and butterfly kick him in the chops. Hopefully, he'd be unable to talk for some time.

The teacher asked one more question. I started to get out of my desk. I could see the moron's mouth open, about to answer.

Holy crap! He got one right. I froze. Standing up in front of the class, I couldn't do a damn thing. The shock had left me immobile.

The teacher told me to take a seat.

I didn't like his tone, so he got a butterfly kick to the chops. BUUUUyhaaaaaa.

Too bad I'm such a sissy. I broke my foot on his face. I could tell everyone he was a robot from the future trying to teach advanced accounting practices to continuing education students throughout Calgary. I might have said he was a lava monster from Marinas Trench, but both of these are lies. I'm just a sissy.


I'm stumped

After months of calculations, intensive computer simulations and a consultation with a voodoo, pig slayer, my mind is still at unrest.

Who the hell would win in a fight? Golem, the little blue kid from the Grudge or Ashley Hall?

Who is Ashley Hall you ask? Let's just say I wouldn't want to bump into him on a sandy beach, especially if he had a stick. Doesn't matter what size or type of wood.

The blue kid is creepy. Golem is savage. Ashley is just Ashley. Nuff said.

I'll call it a draw and move on to the next question: If Hillary Clinton manages to become president, how long will it take for her to fool around with an intern to exact revenge on Bill?

6.20.2007

Really?

We just got a bunch of new steak knives for the restaurant.

One waitress doesn't like the new blades.

Why?

"They're too sharp and pointy."

Damn those sharp pointy knives. Let's all take a moment and shake our fists in the air.


Please

Ozzie, please stop. I know you don't want to, but it's time.

Radio stations. Don't encourage him by playing his I don't want to stop song.

Ozzie fans. Old Black Sabbath was good back in the day. It's not that good anymore and it never will be again. Quit reliving the past.

Now I'm going to listen to my New Kids CD. They'll never get old.

6.17.2007

Some people are so nice

So, I'm looking at the schedule. I'm working the day shift all week.

One of the servers asks me "why don't you work any evenings?"
"I'm taking classes in the evening," I reply in my deep, manly voice that rumbles like thunder.
"Oh, what are you taking?" the inquisitive young mind asks.
"Accounting."
"Really, that's cool."

This was where I bit my tongue. The sarcasm wanted to burst through my lips, but I swallowed it like that little bit of upchuck that comes with the sixth tequila shot of the night. I wanted to say something like "yes it is cool. That's why when you go to the nightclub there's a group of middle-aged, chubby guys with cheap clothing, pocket protectors and glasses that all the guys want to be and all the girls want to sleep with. Calculators and suspenders are such a turn on."

Really I said "it's really not that cool." Then, I walked away.

It was nice of her to pretend that accounting is cool.


Is your mechanic this dumb?

I took my car in for a checkup.

"What's the problem?"
"There's a loud vibrating sound from under the car. Can you check it out?"
"Sure."

Later that afternoon on the phone....
"Did you have a chance to look at my car?"
"Yeah, we just need a little more information. This vibration, could you feel it in the steering wheel or the gear shift?"
"No, it was a sound. I couldn't feel any vibration."
"Did the steering wheel shake?"
"No, I just heard a sound."
"We heard a clunking sound, but that's normal for old transmissions."
"It was a vibrating sound from under the car. Did you hear the noise?"
"We heard the clunking noise, but that's fine. We didn't feel any vibration."

This was where I wanted to turn into Keanu Reeves and zoom through the phone to a spaceship outside the Matrix. My crew could ring me to a location closer to the mechanic so I could rip his freakin' head off.

Instead, I asked "what do you recommend now?"
"We think it's a transmission problem. You should take it to a specialist."
"It's not anything serious?"
"Oh no. You can drive it out of here."

How the hell does he know if it's serious if he can't find the cause?

The good part about this - the garage didn't charge me for the checkup and they gave me a coupon and free inspection at another place.


One last thing... I can not wait for Transformers to come out. That is going to be one great film. Damn!!!!

6.12.2007

The bitter cook

I've been in the restaurant industry for more than ten years now. I did have a three year break from the kitchen for a brief stint in journalism. I'm back behind the grill and the past two days were very special for me.

A first happened. For the very first time in my decade long battle with deep fryers, I took a FoodSafe course. I will soon be a certified food handler. Yippy.

What did I learn at the 16-hour course?

Everything in a kitchen is deadly! If you don't properly cool a sauce, bacteria will grow and infect a patron. They will eventually die.

If a server touches the edge of a plate, the food could become contaminated and the customer could die.

The whole thing seemed to be a scare tactic. Everything in the kitchen has the POTENTIAL to kill.




I read the best quote in the Calgary Herald this week. It pertains to the story about Prince Harry and a Cowboy's bartender (Cherie Cymbalisty). She's the one that sold her story to British tabloids in order to keep her privacy. The fake-breasted, bottle-cap remover is hoping to use this bit of publicity to kick start her playboy bunny aspirations.

The quote is from U of C pop culture expert Rebecca Sullivan about Cymbalisty, and it goes a little something like this "There are girls out there who have dreamed all their lives to grow up to become a bimbo and, hey, she made it."

I cracked up when I read this. I also italicized the irony just in case we have some very slow, as in dumb, readers.



Wicked!

6.07.2007

A quick way to fame

If you want to be famous, you should put on a mask and go around beating up celebrities. Especially, the celebrities that people don't like.

Start with, let's say, Clay Aiken. Put on your mask, run up to him and punch his face.

In order for this plan to succeed, you'll need a photographer. The beating can't go unnoticed.

Next try, Lindsay Lohan. Then, Justin Timberlake. Followed by the annoying "zoom, zoom" kid.

By the fifth beating, you'll be plastered throughout the tabloids and nothing will stop your rise to stardome.

Of course, you'll face assault charges. But, you'll be hero to millions of people around the world. I'm guessing a book deal, movie deal and a clothing line will come from all the attention. Plus the money the tabloids will pay for the photos should pay for a nice lawyer.



Paris Hilton couldn't last a full three days in jail. What a joke. Actually that's not true. With her fame and money, I'm surprised she spent any time behind bars.

Supposedly, she almost had a nervous breakdown. SO. Suck it up princess.

When she dies, I hope it's by a drunk driver.