Oh Jeez…

So, I realize that it’s been awhile since I’ve been posting. In between our seventh wedding anniversary (it was on Monday, you all owe us a card or a gift, your choice), a visit from Sara’s aunt Bernie this weekend and the impending trip back to the heartland for a wedding and a family vacation, I’ve had little time get over and write something, anything.

I know that some of you probably don’t think that this is a bad thing. That’s fine. You’re entitled to that opinion. Jerks.

Add to all of that craziness, I’ve started working part time to bolster my freelance business and to get out of the damn house every now and then. A friend of mine needed help at the restaurant that he manages and that I opened and used to manage, once upon a time. So, I’ve been filling in over there from time to time. It’s been fun, I guess. Half of the staff is still people that I hired, so that’s nice. But after two weeks, I remember why my view of humanity had grown slightly more sunny over the past four years; I wasn’t working in food service anymore. It’s not that every customer is terrible, but the sum of them put together is sometimes enough to make you scream.

It’s the little things, really. For example, when I hand a credit card receipt back to be signed, I do not need you to give me back the pen that you took from a pen holder right in front of you. Put it back where you got it. Or, when I give you a table number to place on your table so that we can get your food to you without any confusion, when it place it right under your nose, next to your drink, take it with you. Don’t leave it sitting there like you didn’t see it. I know you did. And when you don’t take it with you, don’t complain when your food doesn’t arrive as promptly, because the person who brings your order out can’t find you, because you didn’t take your fucking number.

How about when you leave? We’re not a full-service restaurant. We operate in that grey area between full-service and fast-food. So, you don’t have to bus your own table, that’s fine. If you do, we appreciate it, it shows that you at least somewhat understand our jobs. But when you leave not just your plates and forks and glasses and napkins, but also some other trash that you happened to have in your purse or have brought in with you, that’s just rude. We’re not a landfill and I’m not in charge of disposing of your shoe box and Target bag. That’s what the trash is for.

In any case, it’s not all bad. I just need to rant from time to time, to blow off the steam.

In other news, the NBA playoffs are finally getting down to the point of the matter. The first round was dynamite, but the second round has been a thorough bore from start to finish. Hopefully, the conference finals will heat and the impending Lakers/Cavs Finals will be a great matchup. But, more on all of that later.

For now, enjoy this horribly awkward family picture I ran across over at Awkwardfamilyphotos.com…

Sweet baby Jesus, don't tell me where you guys got those costumes. Ever.