Yesterday was a three restaurant day. I started my morning having Pho with Lolita, and then had a quick trip to Whole Foods. I paid for my groceries, and needed a pen to write a check (I know I’m a dinosaur) so I asked the checker for a pen, and he whipped one out from behind his ear. I held my hands up in the air like a burglary suspect who is finally being arrested. “I have issues,” I declared, “Can I use one of those pens?” And I sort of waved at the pile of pens next to the register. You know the ones, they don’t have hair and ear goo stuck to them.
I had some jeans to pick up in Beverly Hills, and my friend Jay was having The Sweets Truck come to his workplace, so I thought I’d swing by there, pick up some yummy desserts, and have a visit with Jay. I’m so pleased that I did. We met the nicest group of eight people who came from Mission Viejo in a giant limousine, they were celebrating a man named Lyn’s 50th birthday. I won’t tell you everything, but I did take video and as soon as I can get it uploaded I’ll share it in the sidebar.
Next was Alexander’s performance. The last two weeks he’s been at Day Jams, it’s a camp where the kids form a band, create their own song, their own posters, back stage passes, CD covers, and shirts. It’s a week long, and on the Friday they put on a concert. It is adorable times eighty bazillion.
After the concert Alexander had requested dinner at The Counter. We obliged and had hamburgers and wine, he had a hamburger with a strawberry milkshake.
While driving home I got a text from Kim Prince telling me that she was walking distance from my house with Jennifer and Lisa. I had Mr. G. drop me off for a drink with my friends, and we proceeded to get the worst service any restaurant could offer. Our server was VERY nice, she was apologetic about forgetting my wine, charged us for fewer drinks than we’d actually had, but she was busy sitting at the table next to us with three men. Yes. Really.
Somewhere after my ninety seventh glass of water (it’s been well over 100 degrees for the past three days) I noticed one of the other servers was wearing extremely low slung shorts. And by extremely low slung, I mean you can see ass crack when she’s NOT bending over. I’m pretty sure she felt sexy, but in a food setting I never want to see ass, that’s just me. I pointed it out to Lisa, who was like, “they’re not THAT low.” Because Lisa is a nicer person than I am. I promise you, there were absolutely no underwear involved.
About ten minutes later I was grabbing Lisa’s arm stage whispering, “fecal matter and food”, because the ass crack waitress had jammed her ticket book down the back of her pants right over her ass crack. At that point even Lisa agreed, “there is so much wrong with that I don’t know where to begin.” And yes, those food tickets that were smeared all over her butt, were torn off and handed to the cooks. Because what good is food without a little ass juice?
There isn’t a chance in hell that I’ll go back there. You know, apparently I have issues.
DO NOT WANT.
OMG that last paragraph – hilarious but gross at the same time. Ew!
You don’t have issues.
You’re sane!
Underwear should never be optional; ass crack should never be visible in a public setting, particularly from the staff.
:) Nice post.
Disgusting. Did I miss the ame of the restaurant? I’d appreciate knowing where I’m NOT going. Ever.
issues? pen from behind the ear, probably.
ass pad, no way. that crosses the line. the crack. well you know what i mean.
hysterical post and i still marvel how you go from pho to kid performance to ass crack in one fell swoop.
First, big huge obnoxious claps and a standing ovation for Alexander! How so totally awesome!
Now, to the ass crack exposing server! Jessica, you DO issues! The kind where you appreciate good sanitary practices where you dine and that doesn’t include a view of someone’s ASS. Honestly, I don’t know how you stayed quiet. I would have NEEDED to say something, and not just to my friend sitting next to me.
The last time I flew, I asked to switch to a different seat because the woman next to me coughed and never covered her mouth. Next day, at the market, another woman was hacking all over the place and I had to leave that store. That shit freaks me out. Your biggest issue is writing a check, I think! (though I had to do that at Costco the other day and totally forgot what to do)
When I went to Mexico for the second time, I was walking around, sight-seeing with two Canadian women and our host, a great friend and tour guide.
After the second day, one of the ladies said, “It’s a shame you don’t like spicy food.” I asked why.
All three chimed in and said that no matter how good they say the salsa was at any hole in the wall we went to, I never had any.
I told them I love spicy food, but the restaurants we were in had the salsa sitting out until it was empty, no matter how many rounds of patrons had used it to dip their chips. And tacos. And fingers.
When I said I love salsa but expect it to be fresh and virginal (like me!), they called me a germophobe.
Because I have issues.
ewww. those are valid issues.
though i wouldn’t want to set foot in the kitchen at our favorite pho joint either…
I agree 100 percent from a food stand point but I’m sure her tips were great that night. I really dig you blog…I wish I had more time to read it.
Sadly she does NOT exaggerate! I couldn’t get the picture of where those charge tickets had been out of my head.