So, I've relocated.

 

Alberta bound I was, steers and... well you get the idea.

 

I've found one thing in my travels out here. Alberta is a mix of Utah and Texas. It's kind of wierd. I mean really wierd.

 

I'm confronted on a daily basis with something I have nothing but disdain for: Organized religion.

 

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that it's evil (It's close, but not there just yet) but it's screwed with a lot of peoples heads.

 

I won't speak of the crazy fundamentalists that are found in some eastern religions (I'll stick to the western ones), ones with a few thousand years of history behind them. Do you think any of those people that put the pieces of religions in the early days would be labeled as bat shit insane if thy came up with those ideas today? Look at David Koresh.

 

The reason I ask is that we had a group of mormans who came in tonight. We had a small wait, and rather than eat in the bar, or even entertain the notion of waiting in the bar, they almost left. What strikes em as odd, as that I'm pretty sure one of the teachings in thier "church" is taht you should be one with the world, not of it. I might not ahve that quite right, but the idea is, you can be a part of what is percieved as normal society, but you don't have to take part in all that they take part in.

 

I've also noticed a disturbing trend. Marriage. People are selling themselves up the river pretty quickly out here. It seems to me that peolpe are putting a ring on the first thing they sleep with, or the only thing they plan to sleep with, or they only thing they could trick into marrying them. Wierd, adn I won't go too far into it right now as a whiskey is calling my name, but doesn't a ring seem like a double standard? Hear this out for a second, in an engaement, the woman is the only one required to wear it, but in the marriage it's both. Wierd? No? is it just me?

 

FW.

Long night.

 

Man down was an understatement tonight. Lost a waiter off the bat to food poisoning. And a dishwasher, to well, sickness but stupid circumstance.

 

Kid just got dealt a suspension for throwing a beer at a girl during a staff camping trip, and then fel sick on the weekend. Convienent? Maybe, but I'm not here to judge him. His Dad called in sick for him yesterday, causing mild discomfort with my fellow managers. We had to shuffle a busser and a few people around, but it was all covered.

 

Dad was nice enough to say that he would give us a call early on in the day if Son wasn't feeling well so we could have lots of time. The afternoon went by with no call, so no worries.

 

4:15 rolls around and Mom is on the line saying her baby can't work. We open at 4:30. I'm the closing manager, this falls on my lap when I walk in the door at 5 as the day manager didn't want to deal with it. I didn't know who I wanted to strangle more, the kid, the mom or the day guy. It was kind of a roll of the dice at his point.

 

I have no issues with someone calling in sick. But dude, don't get you mom to do it for you. Thats lame.

 

This event happened to cause more havok than needed. We normaly have two dish pigs on, and one was already hurt with some turf toe suffered from high school football. This was icing on the cake. Now I have no dish pigs.

 

It could've made for an interesting night had A not stepped up and ran the whole show. He got lots of help from staff, managers, salad people and the like. But Cheers to you regardless A, job well done.

 

I have a way I like to run the show when it's my show to run. I think the staff should have some fun when working, and that it's generally lacking at work as of late. I liek to gather the staff up and do rounds of shots and make sure the tunes are kicking. I view my job when I'm running the place is that of a host. One who sets the mood and tone of the night. That was tough to do tonight.

 

Man(Men now) down meant everyone was picking up for someone at some point, and most people don't mind, in fact it's very rare wher i work that the team can't pull together and make it happen no matter what. No one tonight complained, but you could tell the idea was wearing thin in the eyes of some.

 

I bring a solution to the table to help quel the pain.

 

Booze!

 

Shots start to make thier way around to the staff that are of age to partake and for me, I feel I've done what I can, what little it may be, to make everyone just a bit more chill. Take a step to the back to change the tempo of the tunes and suddenly the place seems a bt more friendly.

 

I love it when booze does what it's supposed to.

 

FW.

Look I'm stating now, that even though I haven't wrote in a long time, despite good referral traffic, I'm throwing this up here as random thoughts from my mind, not work related ones. I do that form time to time, and will have something to put up here shortly.

 

Dreams are really strange. It's really one thing about yourself you have little to no control over.

 

I'm fat, I can lose weight. I have control over that.

 

I'm a bit of a miserable sod, and if what they say about life being what you make of it, I have control over that.

 

I hang out with a cat who is a total douché, I stopped calling him. I have exersized control over that.

 

But dreams? I've got nothing.

 

Work dreams are something people have all the time. Especially us in the "industry". We give them clever little nick-names like; "Hut-Mares" for those who work at the ever fasionable Pizza Hut. I could go on for a bit, but you get the idea. We even have little names for all the drama that goes on in our places of work. "As the Apple Turns" was what we used at Applebees during my time there. Trust me when I say that what happens inside the doors of our stores is far more interesting than what happens on TV Soaps.

 

Is the cook is screwing the owners wife on the prep table?

 

Is the office manager taking a round out of the chef next to fireplace at table 38 during the daytime?

 

She got the nickname "puddles" on what table?

 

Really, with what goes on in the store during non buisness hours I'm surprised even I eat there.

 

I would be remorse to say I haven't participated in some ill concieved ideas after the lights go off, but hey, when in Rome.

 

I actually started this with the intention of talking about dreams.

 

Not even so much as controling them, just one that I had. I just felt compelled to write about it.

 

I haven't seen my one ex in almost a year and a half. It was a rough break-up and even though I regreted it, it was the right thing to do, we had grown apart and it was a rift that kept getting wider. So that was it.

 

I ran into her in the movie theatre a little while ago, and she looked great. Don't think I'm pining for the past here, she really did. I am often surprised at my own ability to go thru the dry spells and come up bagging some pretty good looking girls to break up the drought. And she looked great. Even with the new guy.

 

Before you get concerned, I was cool with it. A professional as one in that situation must be. I get that it's been over a year, but every human, no matter how callous K, is always a little surprised to see thier ex for the first time in a long time, especially with the new guy/girl. Truthfull moment here, I was hoping it would've been a new girl. That's hot.

 

None of that really matters as it were, I just happened to have a bad dream starring her last night. And she was pregnant. Really pregnant.

 

I don't why it shook me, and why I'm still thinking about it. Just am.

 

She was also being a little mean in the dream, she threw out my CD binders. No clue why. Just did, and boy did it hurt.

 

I suppose what I'm most worried about is that my dreams have a tendancy of seeming to come true. Kinda like Deja Vu, and again something you have no control over.

 

I know that some people that fancy themselves a dream analyst, and might try to crack some meaning out of this. Please do, I would be interested to see what people have to say.

 

I'm also wondering if I should hide my CD's.

 

FW.

Try to imagine this in the tune of Glory Glory, Hallelujah.

 

If you can't afford a sitter, you should leave your kids at home...

 

I can't stress enough that kids are my achilles heel.

 

I love kids, but I hate screaming children. You know the kind, the ones that ruin your night and send a chill down your spine. I had one of those tongiht.

 

This kid was the antithesis of cool. It's a real pity that a crochet needle wasn't offered to the mother during the first tri-mester.

 

I got into a heated discussion with one of our hosts about this very topic: Should kids be taken out into public if they can't behave. S had a very unique perspective on it, as not only did she know the parents, but she also never has to deal with the parents, or thier children for more than two minutes on any given night. She was a staunch supporter of children being able to allowed into restaurants at anytime, even ones like the Steakhouse. Whereas I'm of the belief that McDonalds has a playroom for a reason.

 

Let's be honest with each other, kids are cute for the most part, untill they open thier mouths. I'm starting to think kids should come with duct tape.

 

The conversation went along the lines of it not mattering how disruptive the child was, so long as they were cute, it was seen as forgivable. What S fails to realize is that most parents view us waitstaff as extensions of a day care. No dice. Not on this cats watch. At one point tonight the mother asked me to take the kid and walk it around the restaurant, with the incentive of a large tip to come my way. I looked the lady right in the eye and told her I would gladly take the hit on the tip if it saved me from walking a 14 month old around.

 

This broad wanted private and quite time at the table.

 

Here's my solution to your problem: LEAVE YOUR HELLION AT HOME.

 

There were three people in this group, two women and one emasculated man. All lawyers. The mother is husband to a deadbeat city cop. Not alot of drinking goind down as a child was present, but the dude was hammering them back. I don't blame him, he's not the father and he was turned into defacto babysitter. Walking the kid around, keeping it occupied, feeding it, changing it, for christs sake it's not even your child, grow a set.

 

I try to enforce my stern modicum at tables with children. I'm going ot let you in on a secret here, no server in thier right mind is enjoying serving you or your hellspawn. Kids don't fuck with me at tables,it might be because I impose the threat of impending doom on thier tiny unformed skulls. This kid was an exception, from my arrival at the table and recital of dinner features this kid was a gong show. Crying, grabbing at shit, pouting, throwing stuff everywhere; this kids acted like it was one of Jerry's kids. A man has only so much patience. Mine was being tested.

 

Sure I was short with the table, but it was becasue if I stuck around any longer I would have just as soon of shot myself, or used thier napkins to form some sort of noose from which to hang the child outside the Steakhouse as to deter parents from bringing thier children into my domain.

 

Tonight made me think of Nicolas. The most well behaved child in the history of children. His parents had brought him up to be respectful and courteous, and most of all quiet. I needed to put all of this in perspective, so I called my mother and asked her what I was like as a child when I was taken out, and she said I never acted up, and was a very quiet child. Very well mannered in public. Now I understand that this could be a loaded question and that every mother (including the one that brough in the hellspawn) thinks thier child is the golden child, and answers accordingly.

 

Of all the strange things to happen, Nicolas' mother was in the bar tonight. I didn't recognize her, she noticed me, and called me over. She's hot, but thats not the point. We had a great conversation about the above mentioned, and I repeatedly complimented her on her son and daughter, and how wicked awesome they were.

 

I really needed to get that off my chest. It's been ther all night. On a lighter note, i think I'm developing a following again. It's nice to be loved. Stace, if you can find the email on the page feel free to drop a line, you've given me the warm fuzzy feeling that someone out there (that isn't my mother), cares.

 

If you can't afford a sitter, you should stay with your kids at home and order a pizza.

 

FW.

Update on THE RADAR, it looks like the dude has sold the place. I've yet to hear from him directly, but the telephone game has told me that it's a done deal.

 

Seems another place has bit the dust in my little burg. A direct result of thier being too many seats, and not enough asses to fil them on a day to day basis. This place was once a chain, and then had it's franchise taken away and stayed open privatly, and it has closed it's doors for good. Nice people, and I reiterate that I never like to see the little guy take the fall, but this town is getting very cut throat as far as market share and protection goes. These folks had the most inviting neckline.

 

The folks themselves that owned the place were nice enough people, just not restaurant people. They poured thier hard earned life savings into a buisness they had no idea how to operate. They encountered stumbling blocks from day one, they had expected that the previous owners were tired of saddling debt and would stay onboard and help them out by staying on as management. Unfourtunatly those two cats had other plans and opened a pizza joint (as if we didn't have enough) across town in a place occupied by a place that not only did I frequent, but helped run for a period of time. The previous occupants got a brand new factory looking type monster of a building close to the fair grounds/hockey rink.

 

These cats were buggered from day one. Again, I have to say, nice people, and they tried very hard, but they had no idea what they were doing. It's funny how the general public view a restaurant and it's operations. Most people think they could walk in off the street and just do this. It's never that easy. These places are a carefull balancing act of dozens of peoples(employees) lives and filing your schedule needs, not to mention the hundreds of potential guests (Walking Wallets) that you hope to have stroll thru your door on a day to day basis.

 

I'm a firm believer that the first impression is made on the guest by what you have standing at the door. A smart looking (read: stupid and hot) girl that is well dressed, that is wearing something that shows off her features but leaves enough to make you wonder. Someone that can smile and create minor banter and get you to your table in a timely manner is all that I need. This place lacked all of the above. I recall the last time I went in there we waited for 5 minutes before anyone greeted us at all.

 

The second, and in truth what should be the  most important thing, is what the table and it's surrounding look like. What I expect is a clean table, and any not being used around me to be clean as well. Again, not the case.

 

These things to me are a product of bad management, bad attitude, and bad training. A virtual trifecta of mediocrity that is surprisingly very easy to accomplish, despite what you might think about a trifecta being very difficult to pull off.

 

I've found that you ned to cater to your audience in order to keep them in the store, and sometimes, you need to re-create the brand or what you offer in order to keep that all important dollar in your pocket and not some other idiot down the road. they thought the same I guess, and to prove thier innovative instincts were sharp and very dubious in nature, they introduced: THE POTATO BAR.

 

Sounds wierd? It wasn't a horrible idea really. The concept is much like the dreaded salad bar.You take your empty gut up to this table with potatos on it, and put a bunch of stuff you think you might like on the spud, and eat it. In fact you can eat as many as you want. For free. Good idea? Sure, Great Idea? Let me put it to you this way, even rolling into Russia in the early 1940's sounded like a good idea, but fundementally it was flawed.

 

They let the product and service slip to the point of being worse then a Dennys or a Chicken Chef. Places that require thier wait-staff to apply makeup with a trowel, or Homers greatest invention, the make up shot gun.

 

I don't know if anything asisde from a healthy insurance policy and possibly a "freak fire" could've saved this place. I'm sure I could've helped them had I offered my services, which for a time I considered, but it's hard to tell proud people that they fucked up.

 

Another thing that was against these cats was the fact that a masive chain had opened up on the north end of the city and took nearly every customer they had left away from them. With no destination name, bad service, and bad food, it was really only a matter of time.

 

I raise my glass to you guys in the thoughts of your effort.

 

Another cat bit it a while ago. Same idea, lifelong real world experiance, no practical knowledge of what it takes to make our industry click. This guy opened to mild fanfare, with his own shit recipies. They really were horrible. This guy drove a truck his whole life and dumped a ton of cash into this place, made his own menu, and his own recipies. He took what was a promising concept, A Rib Shack, and turned faliure drenched in BBQ sauce.

 

He had so many problems with his food, and being criticized for having such high prices, that it drove many customers away. His action plan to fight this issue? Raise prices. He Lasted 6 months.

 

The leasing agent has approched me about going into the location ad doing what I do well, which is run a pub and sell cheap food at a reasonable price. I had to decline as I am moving out west to relocate and reopen a store in Klein-land.

 

In preperation, I have moved back into a management role in the Steakhouse here. I'm curious to see how this is going to turn out. Could be I hang myself from our thick cedar rafters by the end of the month, or I actually make it work somehow. Morale has been low for a while, so I'll try to take that on day by day. I have no idea how, but here I go. I should be fine though.

 

I have life experiance.

FW.

 

PS: Stace, you're welcome for the laughs, I try my best. Leave a link for me sometime, I would love to check out your stuff.

When I go out for lunch with some buddies we have to sort thru a few options that fall onto our "radar" of places that we'll go to.

 

One more fell off yesterday.

 

I'm all about second chances and the like, but sometiems there is little that can be done. When the staff don't care, or respect thier employer enough to make sure they are representing him/her in thier absence, it really reflects poorly on the restaurant. Such was the case yesterday.

 

We chose a local, private place, where the owner is a small time guy, and fiercly proud of his store, and it's product. He should be, it's a nicer looking place, with a really decent product. He's modeled his menu after a place that he used to work for a few years back, so it's not very original and it really caters to the type of consumer that we have in this town very well. His issue, like many places where I live, is not having a quality product on the plate, but having quality people to represent your ideas and your product.

 

Myself and a friend went a few weeks ago, and while the food was still good, our server, who was very attractive physicaly, had no personality at the table. She seemed very disenfranchised with the idea of her job, and life in general. What she provided to us was the bare minimum of service, get drinks, take an order, drop it off, and take the plates away. Intermittent refills abound, so while I wasn't impressed with how she did her job, she did get it done. Who knows, maybe she had a rough Sunday lunch rush and we caught her at the tail end of it. We figured we would give them another shot, so yeseterday, it was back on the radar.

 

We enter the establishment and the girl working is clearing a table. She's the only one working, and there is one table in there. She looks up to see us and then keeps doing her thing, then just tells us to grab a seat somewhere in the joint, and we figure, cool, she's casual. This was just the start of the decline.

 

There is a little buffet setup that going to be running for the next hour so we figure we'll just eat off of it. K goes up and grabs a bowl of soup and returns to discover not only is it ice cold, but so is the rest of the table. The heat sources are all dead and have been for a while. We let our absentee server know when she comes by our table with our long overdue drinks (Flat Coke). She doesn't really care, and she leaves the cold soup on the table.

 

The rest of our group arrives a few miutes later, we explain the situation with the buffet. None of us knew there would be one, but it would've been a pleasent surprise as this thing had perogies on it. If have never had these things, I insist that you find a Ukrainian friend, or if you're lucky enough to find a Ukrainian grocery store, and get as many as you can.

 

I digress. So after she comes and gets drinks and drops them off, we ask her for menus. I just want to point out the word: ASK. I'm beginning to think that had we not asked, they may never have gotten there at all. We mull our options for a few minutes, and place our orders with the girl who doesn't want to be there. Not only does she walk away and leave the menus on the table, the soup is STILL there.

 

She drops off my favourite of all restaurant time savers; the paper napkin rollup, by gently throwing them around the table. Now Paper Napkin rollups are a great thing for your costs and really don't look all that bad, provided the minimal amount of effort required to create them is taken. Not so much this time around. These things all hit the table and proceed to explode on impact. The girl doesn't apolagize for her shitty handiwork, but just walks away. The soup is still on the table.

 

When dropping off the food, she takes the menus that we've been done with for about twenty minutes. The food is passable for the most part. I have a club sandwich that looked like it could've come out of a gas station on the TransCanada/Interstate. The toast was so hard and cold, I could've used it to retile part of a bathroom. It's very obvious that this was the first item to be finished by the cat in the kitchen. The food today is burgers and the like, with fries and a few salads. She forgets ketchup on every plate that should have it. When asked for, it's dropped off into two big bowls, and is actually warmer than that soup I told you about. No word a lie.

 

Every one else is kind of ok with thier selections. Once the food is done she starts to clear plates, she finaly gets around to the soup thats been there since the table only had two people at it, an hour ago. No meal check.

 

It takes about 15 minutes for her to get the bills ready. While she sits at the table next to us and eats her lunch. K has a good idea whats going through my head, I'm livid. You don't eat in front of your guests. I don't expect alot when I go out, I like minimal contact but this is ridiculous. This place has now fallen off the radar.

 

I need some help here, I don't think the guy who owns the place has any idea whats going on on the Sundays there, and I wonder if I should tell him. Do I owe him that much?

 

I don't belive in hanging my brothers and sisters of the apron out to dry, but I left her a grand total of a 6 cent tip. I have never done that in my life. I don't feel bad about it at all. She really got more than she deserved.

 

FW.

Last night was really strange.

 

Just a wierd night. Didn't make good money, which has more to do witht he quality of the individual that came in the door.

 

At one point I had 4 tables, two bullets, a two-top, and a four top. 8 people, 3 meals. I'm not so much complaining, as I'm more jsut perplexed at this event. I've never had that in the time I've worked at the Steakhouse. It just felt wierd to me.

 

So I got lucky.

 

Dodged the bullet this year.

 

There are some very shitty days to work, and then there is mothers day.

 

Every deadbeat son and cokewhore of a daughter uses this day as thier get out of jail free card. As long as the offending offspring manages to scrape something together for this one day of the year, they get a free pass on being a useless douchebag for the rest of the year. This puts these fuckers in the "seldom diners" catagory.

 

I've mentioned the seldoms before, they are often those too cheap to come out for dinner unless they are trying to:

 

a:) make up for being an idiot

b:) have a gift card/certifacte

c:) get laid

 

Mothers day usually bring out the first two, and oddly enough sometimes the last one. Yea, try to take that image out of your head.

 

The Steakhouse is a nice place in my town. It's a bit higher priced, so it drives away the seldoms for the most part. But Sundays and to a greater degree mothers day, turn that place into a hellhole. You get whole families in, screaming kids, clueless blue hairs (old people), mesy tables, people complaining about what they consider poor lighting, deadbeats in ball caps and cut off t-shirts, assholes in football jerseys, guys that think striped shirts are cool, this list could really go on forever. So I'm sure you can see the want to not work this night.

 

I don't have a ton of input this time around, but I wanted to say that we had a birthday the other night for a staffer. Lots of fun, but it seems like something wasn't there.

 

As much of a good time as it seemed like, I just can't help but think that the girl of honor didn't have the best of times. It just seemed to me that she was really in the background for most people that were there. Could just be me, but it jsut didn't seem right.

 

FW.

There is no better thing to say than this: I just don't get kids these days.

 

I had to chuckle a bit last night, my last table was a family from the North. The "Insert Small Town" high school jacket that has "Welding" as a graduation accomplishment sewn proudly onto the sleeve of the jacket.

 

I approach the table with my usual wit and charm ready to go and I spot that the young girl at the table is wearing a Maple Leafs hat. Shes my target now. Welding lad, you got lucky.

 

I pour the water and run into my introductions:

 

"Good evening, how is everyone tonight?"

 

"We're excellent, thank you. How's the night going?" Is the response that comes from the mother. I instantly love this lady. It ties into something my Grandmother taught me years ago; when someone asks how your day is, be courteous enough to ask them in return. She also said that no matter what how bad your day is, lie through your teeth and tell them it's good, and thank them for asking.

 

Believe it or not, this kind of exchange happens rarely between guests and thier servers and it makes me shudder to think that common manners, and slight social graces are extinct. I digress.

 

"My night has been excellent, thank you. My name is Fat Waiter and I'll be looking after you this evening. If it's all right with you, I would like to go over the dinner features, and get this girl a new hat." The crack is well recieved, so I know I'm in good hands. I hate the Leafs.

 

"Ok, so long as the don't have seafood, we're just looking for steak tonight." I love the mother more now, as naturally all the features have seafood in them. I move my pitch straight to the prime rib and the wine.

 

I gather up a drink order, being travellers they opt for the Pop and Ice Tea route, I let them know I'll be right back, and when they feel they've had enough time with the menus, just to close them up and I'll swing by to take thier order then. I hate rushing people, and if they know they have control over how the night is run, they really feel they run the show. Ask me if I feel that way on a busy night.

 

So a few minutes pass and they are ready to go, so I swing by and start by taking the order from the girl who's team I slighted first. Her's is a fairly simple order, she was just looking for plain old BBQ chicken, which isn't on the menu, but I'm happy to obligie. Folks there is a lesson to learn here, treat your waiter like a person, and it's going to go miles. We're more likely to bend over backwards for you, and even do such simple things as have the boys on the line make you a BBQ chicken.

 

Just as I'm about to ask what salad she would like to start with, the welder chimes back into the scene. And things get dark.

 

"I'll get the Rib Steak..." Welding kid, welcome back, you're my target again.

 

Now I don't consider myself the pinnacle of the word "Gentleman", but I do understand how the world works on even the simplest of levels. You let whatever ladies with you go first. With everything. Be it the front door coming in, sitting at the table, or placing thier order, you let them do it first.

 

"Hang on chief, if it's alright with you, I'ld like to finish up with your sisters order, and take care of your mothers, and then I'll come over to you." Now I understand the risk of this, and my action can be as much of a faux pas as his. Especially if hes the cat paying the bill. My only saving grace was the smile on the mothers face got even brighter when she saw that this cat thats doing the typing, knows how the world works.

 

The rest of the night goes very smooth and we have a few laughs, and the money is good. And I know why.

 

Because Ladies go First.

 

FW.

So I hate Saturdays.

 

Of the seven days of the week that are available to work, it ranks at number 6. Only ahead of Sunday, for you see, Sunday brings out the church crowd (read: Old People) and the joint turns into a rib shack, as opposed toa  steakhouse.

 

But I'm not here for Sunday, I'm hear for Saturday.

 

It's the busiest night of the week. So it has the potential to bring in lots of cash and be lots of fun. But I've come to not so sudden epiphany that it more often than not, it brings out the seldoms. Those who would rather dine on someone elses dime. Not thier own.

 

What this means to those not following me is the dreaded gift certificate/card (GC). The gratuity killer.

 

Heres the principal, a table of three has a 110 dollar tab, pays 60 bucks on a GC, ad then tips on the remainder, not the actual total. What you're left with (if you get lucky), is a ok tip on a $50 tab, and a mediocre at best tip on the $110.

 

My entire first turn was filled with seldoms, each one toting a gift card or two. This sets up the cousre layout for the night, as GC after GC comes pouring in, so much so that I end up with enough plastic in my billfold, I could make new dasher boards for a hockey rink.

 

My top of the pops in regard to GC's tongiht happened when a young couple pulled out two card for thier $120 tab. After running them thru (A time consuming step), They have successfully paid off $40 of thier tab. They then sheepishly produce two more GC's and a small collection of bills to cover the rest of the tab. Long story short, 10 on 120. GC's. Uhg.

 

I had roughly three turns tonight, and while I made some cash, which is the ultimate goal, I really feel I made quite a bit less then I should've and as a result the martinis went down extra smooth.

 

Of course there are always high points to every shitty night, and tonight was no exception. I saw  acouple walk in the door and noticed the gentleman was wearing one of those insipid ball caps from a tire store that has flames on them. You know the kind, flames down the sides of the hat, and along the bill. Only in the prairies.

 

They of course get sat in my section, and I go over to greet the man and his wife. He has kindly removed the hat. I go in for the kill.

 

FW: "Gang I have to ask you, I saw this cat come in the front door wearing a hat that had flames on it, you know the ones I'm talking about. Help me out with this, do you think he wears it because he thinks it makes him go faster?"

 

A little chuckle is had as the man pulls the hat up from the chair next to him and gives me a little grin.

 

Man: "You mean this one?"

 

FW: "Sir that is the one, so does it make you go faster or what?"

 

And the wife, bless her soul, not missing a beat chimes in;

 

Wife: "Yep, it makes him go faster all right."

 

Thanks lady, I think we might have made each others night.

 

FW.

So T.O. is huge.

 

I've been here three nights and I'm still not over how big this place is.

 

Staying with a friend and his wife-to-be, and when they told me the view was good, they weren't kidding. While I'm writing this, I can see the CN Tower and the Rogers Centre (SkyDome), and from where I sleep, I can see the Air Canada Centre, Downtown Toronto, and a quick turn to the left gives me a view of Lake Ontario.

 

I think I've accomplished a great deal of tourist-y things in my stay so far, we've checkd out the Blue Man Group, saw the Lord of The Rings Musical, caught a Laffs game (With one more to come), and got to see teh Hockey Hall of Fame. A big chunk of it was closed, and that sucked. I was really wanting to see the Canadiens dressing room, but I'll be back in the summer to see it then. And I hope to have K with me so we can check out a few ball games.

 

So the best part of the game on Saturday, aside from the Laffs losing, was that our seats came with our very own server. I never had to get up to get whisky once.  If I had asked, this guy might have taken a piss for me.

 

I also got to see my first REAL protest today. And sure enough, it was PeTA. Protesting some circus. I think  these guys actually belive they make a difference. Realtiy is, all they need is a shower and change of clothes.

 

I understand it's not good to be cruel to animals, and by give me a break, I mean do me a favour, and shoot yourself in the face.

 

I've got to make some phone calls, so I'll pop back with more for this later when I have time.

 

FW.