Soup's On!

Listening to a little Handsome Boy Modeling School & drinking some Irish Coffee -- life could not get much better.

Strike that. If I didn't have this [imaginary] brief due in three weeks, life would be right-on. AND if I understood anything that was going on in Civ Pro, that would help too. Regardless, things are good in the neighborhood.

In no small part to magical French Onion Soup I just spent way-too-long-especially-since-I-SHOULD-be-studying making. It's simmering in the slow cooker right now so as to fully incorporate the flavours (British spelling!) Recipe will follow because, really, what's better than typing out a recipe when procrastinating, no?
I bought a new cookbook - The Culinary Institute of America's Book of Soups. Because I like soup and I like America. I played up the French Onion soup (strike that, I just added extra brandy to the recipe because brandy is delicious in soup-form. And played with some of the spices). Tomorrow, I'm going to try to make "Black Bean and Butternut Squash Soup[s]" which is cool if only because the picture has both the soups in ONE BOWL so as to make something of a half-moon cookie (in soup-form). Yummy! Look to the cookie! (Seinfeld reference).

I still have half a bottle of brandy in the kitchen; so stop by and make like Ladies' Man and drink Courvoisier out of a red plastic cup with me. Or put it in your coffee before class tomorrow; oh YOU KNOW.

Anyways, as promised, recipe; decrease the brandy content if you don't feel like pretending to be an alcoholic ("pretending" because all the alcohol cooks off, so it's really all for show when you go glug glug glug of the brandy bottle into the soup).

French Onion Soup (adapted from The Culinary Institute of America's Book of Soups)
1/4 cup olive oil
4 medium onions, thinly sliced
3 garlic cloves, minced
3/4 cup of brandy
6 cups of beef broth or stock
3-4 fresh parsley stems, 1 sprig of fresh thyme, 1/2 teaspoon of tarragon & 1 bay leaf in a sachet/tea infuser.
pinch of salt, to taste
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
French bread
Grated Gruyere cheese

Heat the oil in a large skillet/soup pot over medium-low heat. Add the onions and cook without stirring until the onions begin to brown on the bottom (approx 10-15 min). Raise the heat to medium, stir, and continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until the onions are deeply caramelized (dark golden brown). The total cooking time will be about an hour and a half. If the onions begin to scorch, add a few tablespoons of water and continue cooking. (be patient)

Meanwhile, heat the beef broth/stock and the sachet of herbs in a slow cooker on low heat.

Add the garlic to onions and continue to cook about 4 more minutes. Add the brandy (glug glug!) and simmer until the liquid has nearly evaporated, about 5 minutes.

Add onion mixture to slow cooker of broth and cook, stirring occasionally for about 2-3 hours. Remove the sachet and discard. Season with salt and pepper.

Put in container and chill overnight, skimming the fat in the morning. Or you can just use it right away, but it might be a bit oily.

When ready to serve, preheat the oven to 350F and bring 2 quarts of water to a boil. Ladle the soup into individual ovenproof soup crocks. Top each crock with a slice of bread and sprinkle with grated cheese, covering the bread completely, and allowing the cheese to touch the edge of the crock.

Set the soup crocks in a baking dish and add enough boiling water to reach 2/3 up the side of the crocks. Bake until the soup is thoroughly heated and the cheese is lightly browned, 10-15 minutes. Serve immediately.

Of YooHoo & PowerPoint

Unfortunately, after my quick foray into Blingo STARDOM, I have subsequently won not a single movie ticket or ipod nano. That doesn't mean that you still shouldn't sign up and try to win -- but I can't promise any more quick 8-hour turnarounds for winning a prize.

Recent happenings have included a few fabulous law firm meet 'n' greets which get points for free wine and fancy PowerPoint. Unfortunately, none of their presentations can compare to the classy stuff I put out in my high school years (Stephen King; King of Cliche?) - complete with the special effect "typewriter" to individually type out every letter of each slide - I didn't know at the time that the "special" effect loses most of its charm after the fifth slide. But such is the life of a sophomore in high school amazed by the POWER of TECHNOLOGY.

In blast-from-the-past news, I met up with an old friend who I hadn't seen since I moved away from Catskill (home of the best pizza parlor to ever serve pizza & YooHoo!). He was in town with some of his West Point buddies. I learned that night that my best friend from kindergarten - 2nd grade (Samantha! We liked to read!) dropped out of high school and has birthed a few babies. Which made me sade because Samanatha and I liked to read! Not make babies! I also learned that going on a mini-tirade about the Solomon Amendment is not a Well-Timed Thing when surrounded by four men who go to West Point. I told Pete that he would have to AVENGE MY DEATH if I were killed Saturday night; for two quick seconds I thought he might have to own up to his promise. But, instead, I just bought another beer and become fascinated by the Blue Moon lemon. Makes it tasty!!

Save Banana!

I like free things, you like free things.
I like Google Search, you like Google Search.

TOGETHER AT LAST.

Blingo powered by Google is a search engine that is exactly like Google. Except for one special thing. YOU GET FREE PRIZES. I love prizes, especially free ones.

And if you use the link in this here post, I get the same prize YOU would get if you win a prize. Two prizes! Double the fun! The Chicago Tribune did a piece on Blingo at the beginning of December so it seems legit. AND I already won something! Free movie ticket! Sweet deal, if you ask me.

Anyway, click if you want. Or grab my ass. BECAUSE THAT'S THE NEWEST RAGE!

Bow. Chica. Bow. Wow

Sorry, bloggie, I haven't forgotten about you; yet. Second week of classes proved a bit more hectic than the first and the blog has been put on the back burner next to "going to the bank" and "rearranging closet by color." So, folks, my checks might bounce and chartreuse mgiht be next to SKY BLUE for heaven's sake, but I'm updating.

I was recently minding my own business in the elevator, going down to check my mail, when Dopey Boy hops on at the 16th floor with two Dopey Friends. Floppy hair, hoodie, flip flops; Dopey Boy was ready for a day on the town. He shimmies not two inches from me and leans against the way - and then his right hand proceeds to GRAB AND CARESS MY ASS. Now, this may be "New York City" so perhaps such things are to be expected but I, being from the lowly Midwest where such ass grabbage is not so common, look up and give him a "look of concern."

"Oh my God, I just grabbed your ass, didn't I?"

"Yep."

"Oh my God, I thought it was the handrail."

What THIS means is that my ass is not only rock-hard, but has metallic, magnetic properties and is cool to the touch.

"Nope, my butt."

I'm a classy lady and don't say "ass" places outside this here blog.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't believe I just did that. Are you a student here? Becauase I am so sorry. Oh my gosh."

Here, Dopey Boy turns a shade of red I have never seen and I start laughing at him. As one should do.

"No, it's REALLY okay."

I take action wherever I can get it, clearly.

"No, I can't believe I just did that. Now I'm going to see you everywhere and you're going to just think of me as that weird guy who grabbed your ass in the elevator."

WHY IS THIS ELEVATOR STOPPING AT EVERY FLOOR?

"...I can't believe I jsut did that, oh my God. My name's Eric, by the way."

"Anna."

"Nice to meet you."

I'm still laughing at him. "No, really, it's okay."

"No, I am so sorry. I can't believe I did that."

Believe it, Sir Mix-a-Lot.

Finally. Lobby.

I walk off to my mailbox and then, for NO REASON AT ALL, head to the law library without thinking. So as not to make my trip totally pointless (as I was not carrying my books with me), I pick up the law school bulletin and head back home.

I step onto the elevator and look to my right.

Yes, you guessed it.

"Watch your hands, there, Eric."

"They have a mind of their own."

Twenty-Four

I'm not going to lie. I was never even remotely interested in watching 24. My parents rented the second season over winter break and were all "It's soooooooo good!" and I scoffed (in their general direction).

However, tonight post-Bears (defeat) I was in a dark place and kept watching Fox. And I got SUCKED IN to the addicting drug that is 24.

This may be Another Important Reason to get a television.

Thirsty Thursdays

MLK Jr. weekend started out with quite the *bang* on Thursday when a whole bunch of us from the fabulous super-section went to Rudy's (main attraction: free hot dogs). Our table went through 10 pitchers of beer, no small feat. We played Think While You Drink again - a drinking game which did not exist up in Rochester. It was most fun and there was much drinking and very little thinking, as most drinking games would have it. I tried to convince a friend that NO the Bears ALREADY played the Seahawks and KICKED their asses. Apparently, I don't know the difference between Panthers (GROWL) and Seahawks (SQUAWK) when drunk.

Went to Meghan's apartment and watched the OC and drank MORE beer (positive positive) and wathced the OC. Really, why do I start watching television shows like whose only purpose is to get ME, Anna, addicted to them? I never watched the OC until mid-December mid-study group meeting and now I've successfully downloaded a episodes and am re-arranging my schedule around them.

Then we went to another bar (always a good idea) and played another drinking game - What the F*CK. I am still finding little pieces of the game in my pockets and purse. Then went home and ACTUALLY USED THE SUBWAY after drinking for the second time in as many days. Usually, I get Will of Steel Syndrome and think that I can walk from Murray Hill to Columbus Circle without a probelm. Can I tell you how much easier life is when you use the subway? You don't get frostbite/mugged. Really, it's fascinating.

Will of Steel always gets me in trouble - just ask Chicago friends. The summer after my freshman year (as Christina said over break, THE BEST SUMMER EVER, which is so true), I was at a friends house and decided that HEY, IT'S FOUR IN THE MORNING, IT'S AS GOOD A TIME AS ANY TO GO HOME. I loaded up my huge swimming Speedo backpack with all my alcohol bottles (clang jangle clank) and hopped on the ole' Huffy and made my way across town. I was riding near my high school and decided, "you know, my eyes are tired. time for a nap" and thought it PERFECTLY RATIONAL to fall asleep while riding a bicycle. Because, of course, the road was going straight, my brain could sleep and my feet could peddle.

Clearly, this interpretation of How Your Body Works was a bit off. I AWOKE, some time later, with my head in the fence outside the football field and my bicycle on top of me, red Speedo backback STREWN to the side. Apparently, I "fell over." So, after realizing where I was, I get up, dust off my grass-stained jeans and asses the damage. My bike, still working, had grass in the spokes, the breaks, everywhere.

Of course, one cannot return to their parent's house in such a mess, so I did the only logical thing - went to Walgreens and bought a big bottle of Sunny D. I stumbled around Walgreens, with grass stained jeans, grass in my HAIR, and a big red backpack with jangling alcohol bottles, clutching my Sunny D, and "tried to play it cool." I may be able to do many things, but "playing it cool" is not one of them. Noreen, the cute little Irish checkout lady who Christina and I had befriended through many a drunken late-night Walgreens trips (this is what you do in suburbia), asked me "Are ya goin' to a little sleepover, are ya?"

"Yesshhhh."

Everyone tells me that I could have died if I would have fallen not towards the high school fence but to the other side, into the middle of the Busy Street. TRUE. But really, I'm a cowboy and cowboys live on the edge.

(go bears. go bears. go bears.)

Foos-Ball

Alright, I'm going to start posting more often, so STOP IMing ME! :)

To start out, a little football picking fun. . . .

Washington / Seattle : Seattle, but not the blowout everyone thinks it might be. But Seahawks are still going to win.

New England / Denver : New England. Really, just because about 85% of my closest friends will be in a horrible depressed funk for weeks and I, being selfish, don't want to deal with that. But they're good too. :)

Pittsburgh / Indianapolis : Indianapolis. They might have been losing a few games at the tail end, but you can't forget the first, say 10 weeks of the season.

Carolina / Chicago : Booo. Hisss. Booooo. HissHiss. Chicago Chicago Chicago. Knock on wood.

School Things

First days of all my classes are over & done with. Mondays/Wednesdays are what I like to call "A little trip down memory lane" - Torts & Contracts with the same profs from last semester. Tuesday/Thursday/Fridays mix it up a little with Civ Pro & Constitutional Law. We only have Constitutional Law this week because our Civ Pro professor has a personal issue. I can't wait for Con Law to get started in all it's Socratic glory (word on the street is our prof is a little crazy about calling on one person for half the class). Between Tyll van Geel (swoon) and CONSTImaTUTION TEAM, I'm psyched for studying something I'm mega-interested.

Good news on the job front: I COULD be spending three months this summer interning at a hospital where my chief responsibility would be spending WAY too much time writing a new consent form for the hospital. Like, seriously, it's a 40 hour-a-week job for three months to re-write one form. So, as much as that is exactly what I was wishing to do, the job search goes on, chug chug.

My new gimmick this semester is to sit near the front of the room. I don't quite know what to make of it, yet - I get self-conscious that all my IMing and emailing will be visible to everyone else, who will promptly judge me for not paying attention. AND I cannot, in turn, see what everyone else is doing on the computer, thereby being reminded that I need to check out the new sale at JCrew.

I've been listening to AirAmerica recently because my laptop no longer has "speakers" to speak of (haha, funny pun) and LET ME JUST SAY ONE THING: please, for the love of God, call him Alito, pronounced correctly. The ridiculous people on this radio station with whom, by all other measure, I should agree on every topic - INSIST on referring to Alito as A-lie-to. Maybe clever the first 10 times you figure out that the phonetic "lee" is similar to "lie." BUT GIVE ME A BREAK. Call him by his real name and make some real arguments about his qualifications (note I did not say "political leanings") rather than simply make fun of his last name.

It's like calling Andrew Jackson, "Andrew Crackson" and patting yourself on the back for a clever pun. You know, if you were running a smear campaign against Andrew Jackson 150 years after the fact.

Coffee is GOOD for you!

So, in case you didn’t know, I love coffee. During the last two months of the semester, I made three pots a day. And then proceeded to drink it. And I wondered why I was an insomniac.

And such was the case during the end-of-the-semester crunch during undergrad. During my 60-hour study sessions at CLARC, I would be armed with all types of caffeinated items – a gallon jug of Lipton iced tea, a canister of powdered coffee, and 60 bags of tea. So, when push comes to shove, I can drink “other” caffeinated drinks, other than coffee.

But, coffee is my true love.

And, what a rocky relationship it has been. Not because of any inherent problems in our loving, caring parternship – nay, it was the judging stares, scoffs and “tsks” that I received from most everyone who I would talk to. “Oh, but coffee is so bad for you.” “I drink tea instead, tea is better for you.”

It was all vague reasoning, and I stopped trying to convince people that it wasn’t unhealthy a long time ago. Because whenever I would say anything remotely positive about coffee, the familiar exchange “Yea, but do you have PROOF?” Of course, whenever I did mention “some study,” the simple retort would be “Yeah, well, you can prove anything with statistics/the study must be flawed.”

Which has to be one of the more annoying, and intelligent-discourse-defeating responses on earth.

But fair enough, dear friends. It is entirely possible that some studies are flawed. Fair enough. You find another study that directly flies in the face of any of these, I’ll take it off the list. Regardless, my list will trump yours, you coffee-hating crazybones. :)

10 Reasons Why Coffee IS Good For You

(1) Coffee may lower the breast cancer risk for some women (those women who have certain family histories, a.k.a. “the breast cancer gene”). And in direct response to all those who claim that I drink “too much” coffee, women who drank 6 or more cups of coffee had a 69% reduction of the likelihood of developing breast cancer. (Int J Cancer 2006; 118:103-107).

(2) Coffee may significantly lower the risk for type-2 diabetes. Again higher amounts of coffee consumption (more than 6 cups a day) resulted in even more health benefits -54% higher reduced risk than non-drinkers. [Ann Intern Med. 2004 Jan 6; 140(1): I17, J Intern Med. 2004 Jun;255 (6):645-52, JAMA. 2004; 291:1213-1219, J Intern Med. 2004 Jan; 255 (1):89-95, JAMA 2004 Mar 10; 291(10):1213-9]

(3) The risk for Parkinson’s disease is lowered through coffee consumption – and, as before, higher coffee drinking amounts provides even more protection – up to an 80% lowered risk with 6 cups a day. [JAMA 2000;283:2674-2679]

(4) Next, colon cancer --- a study in the February 16, 2005 issue of the Journal of the National Cancer Institute found that colon cancer rates of coffee drinkers fell by over 50% when compared to non-coffee drinkers.

(5) Coffee also contains over one THOUSAND different antioxidants. And in terms of total antioxidant content, by amount – it has four times as much as green tea, chocolate, herbal teas and wine. (J Agric Food Chem. 2001 Jul;49(7):3428-42).

(6) Coffee contains the same kind of drug (methylxanthines) that are commonly used to treat asthma (theobromine & theophylline) and there is evidence that it acts the same way in aiding during an asthma attack. Likewise, the risk of asthma is lowered by almost a third by drinking about 3 cups of coffee a day. (Edinburgh Medical Journal, 4, 1109-1115, 1859.)

(7) For all the those cramming during law exams – coffee helps there too – it’s been shown to improve short-term memory in doses as low as 2 cups. Radiological Society of North America.

(8) Gallstone rates fall between 13 and 33% -- again, the highest rates for the highest drinkers (6+ cups a day). (Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA), 1999. vol 286, No.22)

(9) Those who drank 4 or more cups of coffee a day had an – get this – 80% lower rate of cirrhosis of the liver than non-coffee drinkers. (American Journal of Epidemiology, 136, 1248-1257, 1992.)

(10) And, finally, the kicker – weight loss. Two items in coffee – hydroxycitric acid and chromium – increased the metabolic rate (at least in men) by 30% as compared to non-coffee drinkers. (Am J Physiol 1995;268:E1192-8. )

But, I don't wanna

I know I have lots to do. Reading for class, namely - class that starts on Monday and Tuesday. Of course, I am lacking, how do you say...."motivation."

For one, none of my professors have posted grades yet. It would be nice to know how last semester turned out - just to know if I have to make any major changes or shifts in my studying. Of course, I can rationalize not focusing on my first-day reading no matter what grades are posted:

If A: I am BLOODY BRILLIANT. I need not "study," at least not yet.
If B: Let me embrace my mediocrity. And eat some Lipton Cup-a-Soup. But not read.
If C: Well, CLEARLY, dong the reading for the first day of class didn't so much work for me last semester. Let's make some changes.

Lovely, that's established. No reading for me, at least not until Sunday.

Helping me in this no-reading "plan" is an email from my Civ Pro professor cancelling the first THREE classes of the semester. Yes, we'll have to make them up later, but I think in the VERY SHORT TERM, so it is a thing Most Good.

In other law school news, I have an interview on Friday that I'm excited about. Of course, landing this job would mean that I would have to live in Chicago for the summer (i.e. at home), which I really don't know if I'm up for. But still, it would be great to get some sort of legal job offer, even if I don't ultimately take that specific one. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, yes?

Letterman Kicks Ass

"I have a feeling that 60% of what you say is crap."

-Letterman to O'Reilly

Bill O'Reilly was on Letterman tonight and my boy Davie ripped into O'Reilly, focusing specially on Cindy Sheehan and how come a man, who hasn't lost anyone in combat, can go on a months-long crusade to ridicule and be cruel to the mother of lost soldier. Letterman was remarkably well-spoken and passionate. Meanwhile, Jay Leno was squealing to himself about misspelled Chinese food menus.

Edit: Thanks to Chris for that link!

Mhmm, dinner time

I got to cook dinner for the fam tonight and it was, if I do say so myself, a resounding success. On the menu was Chicken with Goat Cheese and Arugula, Orzo and Rice Pilaf with Vegetables and steamed broccoli with lemon and olive oil. (links to the inspirations).

Yum yum, I recommend making any of the three.

The broccoli is mega easy - steam/boil fresh brocolli, add the juice of a whole lemon (you can use less, but I like mine lemon-y) and a "glug" or two of olive oil. Add a little salt & enjoy!
I switched the chicken dish by adding a little baby spinach leaves to my arugula -- it cut down on the bitterness without cutting down on the greens.
The Orzo/Rice Pilaf was improved by using wild rice instead of white rice - if you cook the wild rice a bit before you start on the rest of the vegetables, the timing works out pretty well.

Tomorrow, I get dinner duties again. It's so refreshing being able to cook in a big, bright kitchen with lots and lots of pots, pans, utensilts and such. Also, when your parents foot the grocery bill - that helps too.

Tuesday = HaHa Day

One of the funniest SNL skits of recent months.

Mr. Pibb + Red Vines = Crazy Delicious.

Independence Air

Independence Air is filing for bankruptcy. On one hand, I'm happy that I didn't buy my tickets back to NYC through them. The conceited part of me, however, can't help but wonder that if I have, perhaps they wouldn't have gone out of business. Either way, many good memories were had through FLYi - let us travel down memory lane, no?

I traveled to New York City almost one year ago to the day. The mandatory layover in Dulles had me calling Sara to ask her "would it be okay for me to go to the airport bar at 2 in the afternoon?"
Sara asked me, "Why would you do that?"
"Because it's there."
To which Sara responded, niavely, "Well, that's no reason to go to a bar."
In New York City, I interviewed for paralegal positions at a bunch of law firms. Everything sounded so mega-cool, I just knew that I was going to be a paralegal. Of course, a year later, that is not so much the case.

I cancelled my trip two days later from New York City to DC. I had just gotten into the law school I knew I wanted to attend. Of course, one year later, I am not attending said law school. Still, I spent the rainy couple of days walking around the LES, thinking to myself, "I have never been in a city so charming in the rain." The sentiment still holds true. Independence Air was very kind about switching my tickets around. Kudos to them.

Two months later, I flew to DC. There, I presented a paper at the National Conference of Black Political Scientists. It became painfully obvious to me, and everyone there, that I was neither black nor a political scientist. Still, I remember having a really good time and decided that I was not going to law school but, instead, grad school. Of course, one year later, I am not in grad school.

Mid-summer, I flew to Rochester. There, I had a good time in -gasp- the sunny weather with my recently graduated sorority sisters (do jazz hands when you say that). There, I re-discovered the delicious treat that is Baked Cheetos. I decided that this snack was going to be my primary mode of sustinance for the rest of my life. I still have that dream.

And so ends my jaunts around the country courtesy of Independence Air. It was, in fact, a good ride. Cheers.

Praise the Lord, A Present from Above

As an aside, one of the cooler moments of my short stint as a blogger occurred but a few hours ago. No details needed, but suffice it to say I kept repeating “Seriously? Seriously!” to myself.

Onwards. One of the problems with break is that there are few good law school/New York stories to tell. And I know this bloggie has recently been woefully holiday greeting/list-based. So, instead, I’m going to take you back to a little story that reflects exactly why I keep telling myself I AM NEVER WAITRESSING AGAIN. Of course, I will be serving myself a piping hot plate of my own words come May when I crawl back into the restaurant business with no paid summer job to my name. But until then, I can look back smugly, knowing I will never have to deal with this crap again. Usually I don’t swear. But that is what we like to call “foreshadowing.” FYI: this is a gross story, and a crude one at that. Don’t read if you’ve recently consumed a “meal of food.”

My last Friday at the restaurant this summer. I look at the hostess stand upon entering and see that there is a reservation for 12 for 7pm. Score, I think to myself, and begin doing the complex calculus that I always do to figure out where I need to be in the rotation at 6pm, 615, 645, in order to come up just in time for the 7pm reservation. Not that there’s anything I could actually do about it, so all this counting was a fabulous waste of time but I’M A MATH MAJOR (law school inside joke, apologies).

So, three points for me, I land this table. The hostess seats them outside before I can get a good look at them, so when I go out with the bread, I meet my lovely table for the first time. And what a sight they were.

12 of them, none of them a lick below 65 or a pound under 200. Sigh. I have nothing against older folks, as they have every right to eat out and enjoy themselves, of course. But a big table of 12 of them?

They look at me with a confused look on their faces.

“Hi welcome to [insert fabulous restaurant here]. My name is Anna, and I’m going to be taking care of you tonight.”

Still confused. So I put down the cutting boards of bread at their table and realize that, bless our hostesses heart, but she forgot to “give” the table the “menus.” I jet back in and return with no fewer than 19 menus. Because that’s the way our complicated, mega-menu-ed restaurant rolls. Of course, 19 menus confuses the poor folks, so I start out explaining our dinner menu (12), specials menu (2), pizza menus (1), wine list (2) and martini list (2).

Still confused.

The older lady at the head of the table waves her finger all “come hither” like and I lean down next to her.
“I thought this was a Chinese food restaurant.”

Sigh. This restaurant is a mix of South-American-Pan-Asian-Italian. It used to be straight Italian, under different ownership. But recently has been changed into, I think, a mega-cool totally different kind of restaurant. I explain. (no, I didn't use the term "mega-cool." I save that type of literary gem for you readers) Of course, no one in our town quite comprehends a restaurant that isn’t Italian, Mexican or Bennigan’s.

They look mildly confused, but seem interested in the menu. So, over the course of the next two hours, this table has been running around ragged – they ask for a different type of sugar-free sweetener than we have, they want their lemons in QUARTERS not EIGHTHS, half want salad before appetizers, the other half want their salad after. And they are just the biggest group of foul-moods who ever decided “You know what, I’m grumpy today. I think I should gather up a bunch of my equally-grumpy friends and CONSUME FOOD IN AN EATERY.” But whatever, foul moods and demanding customers is par for the course, no?

Another layer of the onion.

Throughout the night, I continually have to “nudge” the gentleman at the end of the table to awaken him – before ordering, before serving him. Every time I return, however, he has finished whatever was on his plate with LIGHTNING speed. So he caught my attention, to say the least.

And the end of the night, I serve them Magical Birthday Cake and they are sitting around, enjoying a little coffee. I keep my good eye on them because, literally, every two minutes they have some sort of random demand. I see the older “rip van winkle” gentleman stand up and stand in front of the door that leads from the patio to the dining room (the main entrance/exit for the restaurant in general). He stands there for a moment, with a “younger” woman at his side, holding his arm. I walk towards the door to open it for them because I thought that they just couldn’t open the door. As I walk over, they turn around and shuffle toward the parking lot – so I go back to packing away soup or whatever it is that closing duties entail.

The rest of the table is still out there, I had given them their credit card receipt awhile back and, as their party dwindles, they seem to (finally) be in good spririts, so I decide to leave them be.

Forty minutes later, my boss comes into the bar room and screams “F*UCKING SH*T!”

Bless his heart, but this isn’t, necessarily, a “strange” outburst, so I just give him a look and go back to soup packing.

“No, really, SH*T!”

And I look outside, and right in front of the door, like a present from the Baby Jesus on Christmas Day, is a pile of human feces. A pile which looks remarkably like the pork tenderloin I had served Rip Van Winkle but an hour and a half earlier.

The man had dropped a deuce in front of the entrance to the restaurant. He had stood in front of the door, decided that he couldn’t quite make it the bathroom all the way in the back of the restaurant, so he dropped trou* right there.

*Actually, no, he did not even “drop trou.” It had ran down his pantaloons.

Now, 99% of me feels really bad for the man – he is old, probably had no idea what was happening until it was too late and is probably mighty embarrassed. 1% feels bad for me, my boss and the two other waiters who had to spend the next 40 minutes cleaning it up and throwing bleach on the ground.

Yes, it would have been nice for someone in the party to come inside, pull me aside and say “You know, I’m sorry, but our friend just accidentally crapped his pants, do you think you could clean it up?” That would have been nice, but I don’t think Miss Manners has published her What To Do When A Dinnermate Drops a Deuce At A Restaurant article, yet.

Here’s the kicker. I had seen this gentleman leave a good half an hour before the rest of the party did. The door to the restaurant is maybe 5 feet from the table they were sitting at. This table SAW that this man had made a mess and then proceeded to SIT five feet from the pile for THIRTY minutes. Personal experience can underscore the fact that the stench was not for the faint of heart. Who just SITS there for thirty minutes, talking about the weather when there is a PILE OF STEAMING CRAP five feet from you?

The same people, I suppose, who are Most Particular about the way their lemons are cut.

And the same people who leave 40 bucks on a $250 check.

Song Picks for January

22 songs, highly recommended!

Equus, Blonde Redhead

Calling You, Blue October

Alternative to Love, Brendan Benson

Clap Your Hands, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

The Last Transmission, The Comas

Shanty for the Arethusa, The Decembrists

Giga Dance, Deerhoof

Are You A Dreamer, Denison Witmer

Stewed Bark of an Old Tree, Devendra Banhart

The Quest, Donovan

Metaphorically Yours, Ed Harcourt

Cash Machine, Hard-Fi

Violet, Joey Cape and Tony Sly

The White Trash Period of My Life, Josh Rouse

Calling, Leona Naess

Black Hole, Lindsay Lohan. Yes. I am very aware that this cuts out pretty much ALL credibility of this music list. But sue me, closet fan of this one song.

Sleep Around, Maritime

Wait for You, Mint Royale

How to Live Alone, Pernice Brothers

Golden Touch, Razorlight

Any Day Now, Rubyhorse

We Are What You Say, Sufjan Stevens (this is from his old album, I hear his new one is AMAZING but I haven't listened to it yet. This one is still top-notch)

Drunk Newscasters

Happy New Year, all! I was going to make a fabulous "resolution" post as is the norm in the ole' blog world, but decided against it, as it really is no more interesting than such GEMS as "stop biting nails" and "write novel." So I'll spare you.

In other news, one of the many highlights of last night's new year's festivities was watching 10 minutes of the Finest Countdown in the Midwest, complete with drunk newscasters. My favorite was watching our very own Tracy Butler swill some champagne and get cozy with some random male newscaster at the House of Blues. She started dancing to some magical music, and it was all elbows & knees. Of course, I can't talk, because GOD HELP ME if there were a live television camera on my any time I was within 10 feet of a bottle of alcohol. Elbows and knees, indeed.