Bad Tips

I just got home from work. I'm lying in bed. I worked my ass off waiting tables. One of my tables tipped me $5 on a $125 tab. I pay 5% of my total sales to the bussers and bartenders. That means that on a $125 tab I have to pay $6.25 back to the house. I'm sure you can see where this is going.

It cost me $1.25 for me to serve this lovely couple. Thank you!

I know what I know

I was listening to the album Graceland by Paul Simon earlier and heard the song "I Know What I Know" and it got me to thinking about what the hell I do know.

Things I'm pretty sure about: The sun will come up tomorrow, I'll go to work, the city won't forget about my parking tickets, politicians will say anything to get votes, 5 degrees feels colder in Boston than in Denver.

Things I'm not very sure about: objective vs subjective morality, God, what I'm doing with my life, the acceleration of universal expansion, cleaning up my computers hard drive, finding a better job, the solution to the US debt crisis, the 2012 Presidential election, string theory.

I know for a fact that I really like the Graceland album and most of Paul Simon's other work. While the album is rich with sounds of Africa, the cover seems to suggest an English knight ready for a crusade. Chalk that up under the category of things I'm not quite sure about.

Applebee's Online Menu

I’m looking at the Applebee’s website (please don’t ask how I arrived here) and they have their menu items categorized and ordered as follows:

• Under 550 calories
• 2 for $20
• Sizzling Entrees
• Ultimate Trios
• Pick ‘N Pair Lunch Combos
• Delicious Appetizers
• Fresh Salads
• Mouth-watering Steaks
• Irresistible Ribs
• Flavorful Chicken
• Succulent Seafood
• Tasty Extras
• Pastas
• Burgers
• Sandwiches
• Sliders
• Fun Kids’ Menu
• Sweet Desserts
• Enticing Beverages

Here are a few observations

Under 550 calories

When you click on the page the hungry, and possibly lower income bracket, viewer is enticed by “Starting at $8.99”  In truth, only one of the entrees listed in the section comes in at that price and it is actually the Teriyaki Shrimp Pasta which must be modified to substitute chicken for the shrimp to bring the price down to the advertised level.

Sizzling Entrees

Again in this section the viewer is greeted by “Starting at $8.99.”   Unlike the Under 550 Calories category, there are actually no entrees that are priced at $8.99.  All of the entrees are higher.  Bummer.  I go back and read the disclaimer by the asterisk.

*At participating locations only

Pastas, Burgers, Sandwiches, Sliders

These categories are the kids that weren’t picked at recess.  They are the categories that eat by themselves in the cafeteria.  They are the categories without an adjective.  They all wanted to be as irresistible as the ribs, as mouth watering as the steaks and as alliterated as the succulent seafood.  But alas, these poor entrees must hang their adjective lacking heads and meager price tags in shame.  19 categories and they are the four with no added descriptor.  

Spring Camping - May 2010

This is the view from the car window.

When we woke up on Friday everything was soaked.  The tents, the tarps, our clothes from the night before.  Luckily, it was a beautiful, bright sunny day and we had the good sense to move our tents out from under the dripping trees to a spot with nothing but blue sky above us.  When I say “we” I mean Fred, Eric and me.  Matt was totally out until one o’clock.  

After we had relocated the tents and had them drying, we set up a long line of rope to act as a clothes line to dry everything out.  The line was probably 40 ft long and it required two ropes tied together.  This actually worked like a charm and was one of the saving graces of the trip.

Once that was complete, we noticed that the tents were in the runoff area for all of the snowmelt that was quickly turning the ground muddy and sopping.  The three of us started by scoring the ground directly around our tents to create small irrigation channels.  This quickly turned into a major task which, when completed, would have made the Romans jealous.  Our new camp area was just about dry and the big puddles that were left were being systematically drained by the channels.  At that point we were feeling pretty good about ourselves.  The sun was out, camp was dry and we were ready to make the transition to flip flops.  

The set up of camp was complete, Matt was awake and we had already cracked a few cold ones.  Realizing that the amount of alcohol wouldn’t be sufficient to last another night, Eric and Matt were going to head into Pine Junction for more.  Pine junction was only about twenty minutes each way, so when the two of them left Fred and I were expecting to see them in a little less than an hour.  

The clouds started to roll in above camp.  Matt and Eric had been gone for about fifteen minutes and Fred and I decided we should start moving our stuff off the dry line and to the safety of our tents.  We figured we would move our stuff first and when, and if, it started raining we would move Matt and Eric’s stuff too.  Well it did start raining.  Almost immediately - and it didn’t stop.  Fred and I retreated to our tents to stay dry until the others came back.  The shitty part was, they hadn’t come back.  It had been an hour and a half and no sign of them.  No cell phone service to try and call.  And worst of all (for Fred), the toilet paper was still in the car and Fred’s body was telling him that a number two was on its way.  So after a hard fought battle, Fred gave in and used a sock as TP in the pouring rain.

When Eric and Matt finally returned, they told us the story about how lost they had been and that they missed the turn back into the campsite and ended up near Deckers.  Yea, they added almost an extra hour of time onto their trip.  But when they finally got back there was really nothing to do accept stay dry.  We figured the best way to do this was to hop into the car until the storm passed.  The storm didn’t pass and into the evening we went.

Puff, puff, pass, pull on the bottle, puff, pass, pull - is pretty much how the evening went.  There were two notable breaks from this routine.  The amazingly clever and inventive game of “trash caps,” and the terrifyingly real tick scare.  Trash caps was great.  Just the camp trash bag hanging around a tree with a narrow opening at the top as the bag sagged.  Just pop open a beer, stand behind the designated line and shoot away.  The tick scare on the other hand wasn’t as amazing.  Dakota (Fred’s dog) had been kicking it in the car with us and Fred noticed a bug crawling around in his hair.  He picked the bug out and it was definitely a tick.  He tried unsuccessfully to kill the tick in the car and then somehow managed to flick the live tick around my feet somewhere on the floor of the backseat.  Panic instantly set in as everyone in the car suddenly became incredibly uncomfortable. 

About ten minutes later, a tick was again spotted climbing up the hair of Dakota.  We didn’t know if this was the same tick or not.  We did know that it was in the car and we hated every second of it.  Fred detached the roaming tick from Dakotas hair and to the best of our knowledge, threw it from the car.  The scare was over for the time being, even though later Fred would find a tick sucking blood out of the inside of Dakota’s ear. That is pretty much how the night went and one by one we left the car for bedtime.  

Hot Jogger Blamed for Epic Golf Collapse

Denver – After three strong rounds of play at the Gauntlet, S. Mooda looked poised to bring home the Royal Gulch Trophy. Up two strokes and within birdie range on hole 3, Mooda had the opportunity to put even more distance between himself and B.E. Taylor. It was at that moment that the tournament took a dramatic swing. Mooda’s putt on 3 was absolutely juiced and rolled inexplicably off the green and into the greenside bunker. After taking two hacks from the beach and two more on the green, Mooda ended up with a very uncharacteristic triple bogey.


After the round Mooda discussed the hole, and more notably, the putt that sent the rest of his round into a tailspin. “I felt good before the putt. I felt that my read was strong and all I needed to do was get up and hit it.  As I was addressing the ball I saw a dog out of the corner of my eye. Then I saw the jogger on the other end of the leash. Uh huh. I think everyone out there saw. Needless to say, the ensuing shot didn’t go as planned.” 

It was apparent that the image of the jogger was stuck in his head as he plummeted down the leaderboard to finish in a disappointing tie for tenth place. “The park is just too goddamn close to the green on 3 and the tee on 4.” An angry S. Mooda was short fused with the media and details of an alleged parking lot altercation are beginning to surface.

Queens

Outside the Stairwell Door

I came busting out of the stairwell door and nearly hit the little lady scurrying by.  She made a noise that a cat might make when it jumps off of a table and hits the ground.  Or a lower pitched guinea pig type sound.  In my surprise I turned and said, whoa sorry.  She was wearing an old wool hat with one of those puffy balls on top that have to be strictly ornamental as I can’t see those serving any type of utility.  She also had on a winter jacket that looked like it had a denim shell on the outside with some kind of writing.  I can’t recall what the writing said because I was so shocked by the pace in which she was moving past the door, the little squeaky terrified noise that came out of her small body and the fact that she didn’t turn around at all to acknowledge my prompt apology.  I contemplated that she was homeless and had found one of the many ways to easily access my “secure” building and escape the cold at sunset.  I started my walk in the opposite direction and then stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned around.  I was hoping that I would catch her looking back at me and at least get a glimpse of her face (which I assumed to be very mouse-like and had it not been, I would have been shocked).  No such luck.  She was, in point of fact, a resident or at least had access to one of the residences mailboxes as she was opening one with her back to me.  Maybe mouse-lady and I will meet again.  Next time I’ll try to knock her over with the door and at least I’d get a good look at her face as she lay in utter shock and panic on the carpeted hallway floor.  Maybe she won’t walk past that stairwell door ever again.