Like taking Candy from a Crabass

You know how I’m the unlucky dog who gets bad food and bad service at restaurants, wrong food at same, get stuck behind shitty drivers, slow drivers, asshole drivers, morons in grocery stores, Christians jumping on my porch screaming at me….?

Well, I get a lot of guff from people now and then, because they think I should be more forgiving. I disagree.

If you lived a few weeks of my life, you would see that it’s truly not me.

I have had some shit happen to me the last few weeks, and I decided to expect better, and it changed…..well, not a goddamn thing. Shit still happens to me.

My husband took me out for my birthday recently. On our way to the casino, we stopped for a burger. Guess what? Mine was spoiled meat.

No, I’m not saying smelled funny, maybe kinda off, no. I’m saying  it was a “someone in the kitchen reached into the back of the (I’m guessing not cold fridge) and found a long forgotten patty and decided to fry it up” kind of spoiled. An ‘I took one bite and spit it out’ kind of spoiled.

I quietly called the server over and relayed the problem. She loudly disagreed with me, took the plate to the kitchen, then came back out and told me there was nothing wrong with it, she had been serving burgers all day.

So this told me one of two things:

1. I was an idiot, and after having been a cook and person who eats for more than 30 years, I had no idea what spoiled meat looked, smelled or tasted like.

2. This was how their beef tastes at that particular establishment. Like spoiled meat.

I won’t go back, but do you see how this is the kind of shit that follows me?

No?

Well guess what got me thinking about this. Go ahead, guess.

I’m eating a Tootsie roll Pop just now, first one out of the bag, cherry because it’s my favorite. I just held it up to the light coming into the window. Guess whats not in it?

Yup. No tootsie roll.

This is the shit that happens to me.

Traffic Jams and Morons

I thought I would share with you a few things about Mankind that have pissed me off the last few weeks, in no particular order. See if you can spot the ones in your life, and in your town. These jackasses are everywhere. And they must be breeding.

‘Indiscriminate  Stoppers.’……………..These people can be found in public places, in hallways leading to bathrooms, or on stairs which are only wide enough to accommodate 2 rows of people, the ones going up, and the ones going down. These  ’Indiscriminate  stoppers’ will always be  going in the direction you are going, and they will always be right in front of you. Always.

These are the people who feel it necessary to stop walking with no warning whatsoever,with no logical reason at all. One minute they are walking (in front of you, of course in front of you) and their brain suddenly changes gears and they stop cold- (ERK!) standing still now as they rummage through their purse, or stare blankly at something that only they can understand. Perhaps they heard a command from the sky, or perhaps they are unable to walk and think at the same time, (Great Scott! Do NOT pass out gum!!! )

But regardless of the reason (or the fact that they are in a crowd of moving humans all going in the same direction) they are now stopped, which puts you in the position of attempting to gracefully avoid  grabbing their shoulder or ass in an attempt to avoid trampling them as you nonetheless grab their shoulder or ass, (DAMMIT!!!)    and causing your brain to command your voicebox to form the word “BAHWHATTHEFUCK???”

These people also enjoy getting to the bottom of a flight of stairs, or the other side of a door, and then stopping to talk to someone. I only hope they’re never leaving a burning building, because urrbodies  gone die.

These people (morons) are completely and blissfully unaware that other humans coexist with them on this plane.

‘ Traffic Bottleneck Alleviatior Attemptors ’………………….. These are the nice folks who, while on the way to their destination to enjoy some much needed R&R over the weekend, (and usually not with their wives and kids but with their buddies because wife had to stay home with ‘said kids’ to deliver them to soccer/volleyball/football-practice/games)  feel as though it’s their duty to pass everyone on the fucking expressway until they have caused a literal traffic jam some miles behind them. (Keep in mind where I live, the expressway is hilly, and I can see your sorry ass sitting about 17 vehicles back from the open highway, (locked up, bitch) as I am now sitting on the top of the hill .

I hope you saved yourself enough time to offset the fact that there are 5 Mack trucks, 5 RVs, and seven brand new cars with 14 very confused and very old people in front of you now. If  I gotta wait now because you weaved your truck and trailer with your goddamn wave runners effortlessly through all ‘that damn traffic’ (aww shit, you got skillz!), I’m just glad it’s a misery we can share together.    Asshole…. Have a short weekend! 😀

‘Those people On Facebook Who are  Literally In The Same Room  When She updates Her Whiny Ass Status On Her  Phone And He Can See It On His  Phone At That Very Moment’.……..And then they continue to have a ”conversation’ on facebook.   These people need help.

‘People who Are Friends With People Who Work In The Drive Thru’………….Ok, people ……..who need people, ……………are the luckiest people…….IN THE WOOOORLD. I’m all for that. I really am. Some of the nicest people I know are people.  BUT.  I do think that if I’m in line for  smoothies, and I have 10 minutes to accomplish this task, although  you are friends with the person who is working there and you want to cement your weekend plans with this ‘people’ , it would be much more awesome if you just call her/him. Because this particular people in the drive thru is working at the moment. And theres a fucking line up behind your inane conversation! 

What really pissed me off the most about this was that the woman working in the drive thru was The Owner Of Said Establishment.  And she looked at us sitting there waiting several times. I’m guessing she didn’t need our money, and was instead content to yuk it up with whoever was gumming up the works.

This is a locally owned little drive thru only shop, not a big corporation. I thought those guys survived on regulars, maybe I was wrong?

We decided to blow thru the drive thru when the silly bitch finally moved, (and the guy behind me who also observed this BS followed suit ) and went to another establishment for our smoothies. Won’t go back either. If I want to be treated like shit and ignored, and get the slowest service in the world, I’ll go to Wal Mart.

Sales people (girls) and servers who talk normally when they’re not with a customer, but for some reason think think that when they address said customer they need to raise their voice to a high, annoying pitch.

(disclaimer- I was a server for a good many years, and I can assure you that if you treat people right, the money follows. Also, I have no contempt whatsoever for good service, and I will tip the shit out of you if I get it. And I have never spoken like this. True story Bro)

I wish you could hear my impression of it, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and just assume you know exactly what I mean. I have dealt with 4 of these girls on different days and different places I have been last couple weeks, but they are everywhere. Their voice is whiny, nasally, sooooper high, and they drag their words out slowly until they can squeeze a couple extra syllables out of them.

At the casino, as I sat at my one armed bandit of choice, I was assaulted several times by this-

“BEEYUUUUUUUR!!  ICCCCCE COLD BEEYUUUUUUUUUUR ANYONE?” Several times in a row, followed shortly thereafter by “DREEEENKSSSS????? DREEEEEEEEEENKSSSSS ANYONE?”  (please note the long ‘sssssssss’ because for some reason they think when they’re screaming  that the sound of  ‘s’ carries far and wide) I swear to God they train them to say it like that because they all do it that way. All of them.

At the restaurant, as our server waited on us and spoke to us as if we were both 5 years old at daycare. “Didju want ssssome more icccced teeeea???  Are you all sssset with that? Howsssss everytheeeng?”  (now remember, the pitch of the voice gets even higher at the end of the sentences because they are questions.Even when they’re statements. For these girls, all sentences are spoken like questions, all the time.)

I swearsometimes I am literally going to have a  seizure just from the sound of their voices. They make  Fran Drescher laughing sound like Morgan fucking Freeman reading the first chapter of the bible.

Which led me to have an epiphany last week when I went out to dinner. I prefer a male server or salesperson. Why? Because  they  treat me like an adult. They come to the table and say things like ‘How you doin tonight?’  Then pause to actually wait for an answer. “My name is ____, and I’ll be your server.” (spoken as a statement)  “We have a few specials tonight, would you like to hear them?” (spoken as a question) ” Can I start you guys off with something to drink?” (spoken as a question) “Ah great, good choice, good choice.” (spoken as a statement)

Then he proceeds to do his job efficiently, as he actually pays attention to the needs of the table.

And I never feel like I’m going to develop a brain aneurysm from continuous exposure to a ‘nails on a chalkboard’ voice.

So if you have run into any of these people (literally or figuratively) please take comfort in the fact that you are not alone. Support group meets here every few weeks.

Mailboxes, Servers, and Salt

I have come to the conclusion that much of my grouchy attitude is not only caused by dieting and carb loss, but also directly related to the small, yet accumulative shit that happens every day in my world.

I had an epiphany last night, as I was sitting at my local Applebees at dinnertime. On a Monday night. Not a busy night mind you, just an ordinary, slow Monday. I have been accused in the past of being a picky brat, but let me share with you a few instances where I do think I may have had a right to be a little miffed at my luck.

Back to Applebees.

I ordered a frozen margarita. Simple enough. And my server brought it to me, (after the bartender looked up the ingredients of said cocktail) in a small iced tea glass. If you have ever had a margarita, you would note here that it is primarily served in (wait for it) a margarita glass  with a stem, and the rim salted. And a lime.

The drink was served to me in a small iced tea glass, with no lime, no salt. (in all fairness, I was not asked if I did or did not want those added features, although after having tended bar myself for many years, and also having been a server for as long, I was under the (obviously) mistaken impression that those added features were the very definition of  a ‘margarita’.)

You wonder why I would whine about such a thing? Well, it wouldn’t bother me so much if

A. it was the only thing that wasn’t quite right, and

B. I hadn’t actually watched the bartender look up the recipe to make it.

On to the medium rare steak. It was cooked to a black crisp on the outside, and quite brown and tough on the inside.

Now, I didn’t complain, but my server was probably one of the best we have ever had at any restaurant. Clean, clearly attentive, and she could simply tell from nothing more than the look on my face that things weren’t right. And she did fix both to my absolute satisfaction.

But here’s my point. It happens to me, and only to me, no matter who I go out with, every time I go out. I always expect the best, but rarely get it.

We were celebrating a very big promotion and raise my husband had just received, but of course, because of this shit, we were distracted repeatedly from talking about it. (We did tip our server 40% though, because damn! She really was a good server, and she did make it right, and neither was her fault)

But it shouldn’t have been wrong to begin with.

Another example: Last month my husband, my sister and I went to Hooters. We have 2 Hooters nearby, and we stopped in to the one a little further away, which we rarely frequent, as we were on our way back from a shopping trip. The place had 4 tables of people when we arrived, and two loners at the bar. My husband and my sister both were served their food, as the server explained that my order had been sent to the wrong table, blah blah, its coming out in just a few more minutes. (please keep in mind that I ordered wings, medium, off the menu, nothing special, just frigging wings. Its what they do for chrissake.)

 

After my husband and my sister had completely finished their meals, and after I had sat with an empty glass for 20 minutes, she finally came over and put a plate of food in front of me. It was not wings, but something else entirely. I would think I’d have a pretty good reason to blow up here, but I simply told her it was wrong, and to cancel the order. Then she copped an attitude, and pretty much assured me that I was mistaken, this is what she had written down, so therefore, it had to be what I ordered. My husband and sister both protested with me, as they had actually been sitting at the same table as I was when I placed the order. But no, we were all wrong. She did eventually take the price of the fucked up order off our bill, but not before our, and another server neglected to notice that my husband was paying the bill as my sister and I walked out, and they chased us out the door as if we had done the ‘dine and dash’, but stopped short in the entryway as another server yelled for them to come back, noticing my husband paying.

With this much attention to detail from 3 servers, you would think someone could have gotten an order of wings correct. At a wing establishment.

And no, the bitch did not get a tip.

So here are some  bits of advice from a person who is being driven insane by bullshit ‘phone it in’ attitudes toward everything:

1.  If you are a server, please get your head out of your ass and pay attention to your job. Most servers are very hard working, and very attentive to detail. And they earn every penny they make, and then some.

2.  If you are a fucking Ditz, please get a job doing yardwork where you can wear your bikini to get a tan, and no one will care how bad you fuck it up as long as your boobs bounce around occasionally. Remember, you don’t have to know anything, because your boobs will put you through college. And bring a friend to pretend shes helping, that way you can take turns showing off your mad pole dancing skillz on the rake handle in someones front yard.

3. Companies whose job it is to design a damn coffee carafe that actually pours coffee into a cup, not into a cup as well as 3/4 of a cup onto the surface all around  it…Get your ass back to work! You are obviously failing miserably at your jobs!! ( I know this was completely unrelated, but someone had to say it)

4.  Guy who backed into my mailbox 2 nights ago as I watched you smash it to hell...just how fucking long do you think your extended cab pickup truck is? It ain’t a  SEMI!  Go out and measure that goddamn thing! And anyway, thanks, I was TOTALLY planning to go buy a damn mailbox.

5. Old lady in the grocery store taking up an entire aisle with your combination cart/ass…. the ingredients you are studying so intently are : SALT. Just put it in your cart and move along. It’s SALT.

6. Girl who keeps blogging about her kids potty training. Newsflash- Your kid shits. Everyone shits. All you have done is an early favor to yourself and the noses of people surrounding your kid who shits. And you have saved yourself  money on diapers, but I can assure you, the kid would have eventually taught himself to take a crap in a toilet when he got tired of smelling it and walking around with it in his pants. And I don’t want to see any more pictures of him on a toilet. It’s not cute. Do you see pictures of me on the toilet? Right, because it’s not cute.

Ok, now I feel a little better. I wonder whose job it is  to piss me off today…

Sausage patties and refrigerators

Sunday morning! The day for our yummy big breakfast. Usually it’s eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes and toast, with coffee of course. (make mine black, I hate myself.)  I have been good with my zero carbs, and if you’ve read my previous posts, then you know where it’s heading- I deserve it.

But let me go off  on a tangent for a bit though, for I feel that with all the exercise and carb cutting, I am leaning toward insanity. No one has been murdered yet, but I fear it’s just a matter of time.

Todays subject-Sausage. not patties, not links, but the bulk stuff that comes in a roll so you can either slice it into tiny hockey pucks, or try ( I say try) to squeeze it between your hands as if you had the idea that you were going to make patties out of it. What happens however is you end up with red, slimy crap all over your hands that you will eventually scrape off into a pan and attempt to flatten with a spatula.

Now that we have it all pattied and cooking, lets move on to consistency, smell  and taste.

Some years back, sausage tasted and smelled like a spiced pork product, yummy and good, you could smell it cooking and you knew instantly that it was breakfast sausage. But that is no more my friends, those days are gone…

While its cooking, I pull the cover off of the pan, and it smells like no spices were added, but instead, they washed the sausage with dishsoap. And not expensive stuff either, just the shit you find for fifty cents a bottle.

Today I am eating a sausage patty whose ingredients, I’m pretty sure, include but are not limited to- pork, pork type by product, slimy red stuff, toenails, bits of hair, lint balls, and any leftover crumbs and bits they found laying around in their cupboards and the dryer lint trap.  And it tastes like that.

I am pretty sure thats my last sausage patty.

Now to my refrigerator for a moment.

When you look inside, theres a little cubby with a flip up flap thingy in the door. Ok, if you put ANYTHING in it, its going to slide out and hit floor every fucking time you open the door for anything, so whats the point there? Do the designers of shit like this sit around smoking weed and laughing about how stupid their ideas are and then incorporating them anyway? All the while just bustin a gut because some dumbass is going to buy it, and at least once will try to put something in that hole with a flap.

I have a half roll of sausage product left. I am considering putting it in the flapped door just to punish it. Also, I will burn calories bending over repeatedly and putting it back in there.