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Monday, June 15, 2009

Love Isn’t The Only Thing That Means Never Having to Say You’re Sorry

Saturday night was Becky’s bachelorette party. There were seven of us at The Shout House, a dueling-piano sing-a-long kind of bar and restaurant on Hennepin Avenue. I’ve reason to believe it’s a franchise, so there are probably more of them somewhere. The drinks are good (but not very strong) and the food is passable.

And the waitstaff is something else.

The first time it happened, I glanced at Kathy – at the same time she glanced at me.

“You smell that?” she said.

“Smell it? I was about to accuse you of it.”

“Me? If I smelled like that I’d be running to the bathroom.”

We both turned our heads, noses wrinkled, looked around. The room was packed to its edges with tables, 80% of them fully-chaired with gaggles of other bride-to-be’s and their friends, decked out in various combinations of glued-on condoms, rubber penises, cowboy hats, and what seemed to be a desire to look like a hooker.

You really have to give some of these gals credit in the dressing decoratively category.

As was noted at one point in the night – and brought to its logical conclusion when the gal bent over later and showed us not only her underwear but lost a breast in the process – just because it stretches doesn’t mean it fits.

Word to the wise.

But back to the smell.

Because five minutes after its introduction, the smell returned.

“Whoa!” Wendy said, from across the table. “What the hell is that?”

Kathy (mother of a one-year-old) and I turned to each other, smiling.

“Smells like someone needs their diapers checked!” she crowed.

Because there it was again. The dreadful smell of someone’s intestinal gas.

Kathy and I looked around again.

“If it’s not me, and it’s not you, why do we keep smelling it at our table?”

“You gals need another drink?”

And there was our waitress.

Kathy and I smiled at each other. Could it really be our waitress delivering this horrible, and repeated, smell?

It was confirmed with our next round of drinks; and on four subsequent visits to our table, in this crowded and incredibly loud bar, our waitress left us a little something.

Almost a tip, really.

We’re thinking that the tip is something in the area of “being in a crowd of people doesn’t make the smell dissipate any faster”.

Or maybe it’s “don’t drink a lot of cheap beer the night before work”.

Either way, well done, Fart Lady. I think we all learned a little something Saturday night.


IB said...

I once had a waiter with the worst BO I've ever smelled (and that's saying something if you know any of my friends). He put me right off my food. I blame his manager for not telling the guy he needed a shower EVERYDAY before coming in to work.

Hogday said...

Living proof of the much discussed theory that nobody ever notices you until the moment you decide to fart.

That Baldy Fella said...

Proving the old adage:- "Laugh and the world laughs with you. Fart and you stand alone."

powdergirl said...

I think that would really tax my habitual 20% tipping rule(one I believe you share) and I'd really feel like all of my tips should be delivered in the form of advice.
or maybe a polite inquiry "did you shit your PANTS?"
A nasty smell can make me cry!

Under the Influence said...


DouglasDyer said...

To be the most offensive person in the crowd you described is really saying something.

Chris said...

And a little-known corrolary to the "just because it stretches doesn't mean it fits" rule . . .

"Just because it's unusual doesn't mean your readers want to know about it."

Just an FYI, my dear Pearlie-Q.

giantspeckledchihuahua said...

I waitressed for years and years and years, and I made damn good money at it, until the government stepped in which is about when i quit waitressing.

I feel it is my solemn duty to let wait staff know when they are screwing up so when they get their lousy tip, why they got a lousy tip. they always get a chance to make things right. I am an over 20% tipper, if you're good (love to make a waiters' or waitresses day) that smelly waitress would have heard about it from me, and if she didn't fix the problem she would have felt it in her pocket book later.

Oh! whenever possible, I leave the bus person or bartender with a great tip so the wait person hears about it later...

Kate Coveny Hood said...

That's awful! How gross. At least you all had a good sense of humor about it.

@eloh said...

So, the moral of the story is you got away with it by blaming the waitress. Hummm I've always blamed one of my kids or the person at the table behind me. Interesting concept here, Pearl.

the iNDefatigable mjenks said...

I'm glad it's not just guys who blame each other for rank odors.

Douglas said...

You should have brought Nooter along... (or any other dog).


Pearl said...

IB, I wanted to say that I could beat that with the bearded woman (really and truly) at a Denny’s I used to go to in Central Wisconsin, but no. I think you beat me.

Hogday, Ah! I see tomorrow’s blog…

Baldy Fella, we could only have WISHED that she stood alone. Honestly.

Powdergirl, we’ve discussed our heavy tipping habits in the past, and yep, she pushed us. We still tipped her good. The service was fine…

Under the Influence, it was an amazing display…

DouglasDyer, it IS saying something, isn’t it?! Some of the women there were really hurting for attention…

Chris, I’m sorry to say that after 352 straight posts, there was bound to be an, um, stinker in there somewhere. :-)

Giantspeckledchihuahua, you are my kind of lady!

Kate, it was pretty bad. Fortunately, the ventilation in the place was decent.

@eloh, you’re on to me! :-D No, honestly there was some joking eventually about blaming it “on the dog” and offers to check each others “drawers” in case someone needed a change, but it wasn’t the worst thing I’ve had happen at a bar!

iNDefatigable, oh, don’t let the fairer sex kid you.

Douglas, I’m only now beginning to see the wisdom of carrying a dog with you at all times…

Susan said...

GUH ROSS!! And hysterical. Did you have any Beano to add to her tip?

Pearl said...

Ah, dagnabit Susan, now where were you with that suggestion Saturday night?! That would've been perfect.

"And a little something EXTRA for you, my dear woman."

Eskimo Bob said...

I'm sure it was just your upper lip.

That's usually the culprit. And by the way - it's a great topic. If only to make sure that you clean your upper lip before you go out in public. Great public service announcement.

Madame DeFarge said...

My local Tesco's (supermarket) has several gentlemen who are strangers to hygiene. Gives me the vapours every time I go in. Quite foul.

Pearl said...

EB, Note to self: check upper lip before going out. :-D My brother says that, btw.
"What's that smell?"
"Your upper lip."

Madame deFarge, I believe I sat next to one of your Tesco employees on the bus the other day. Smelled like sauerkraut? One wonky eye?

Roshni Mitra Chintalapati said...

eeks!! Sounds like she wanted you to leave soon!!

Fancy Schmancy said...

I worked in a place that had actual signs in the breakroom stating, "dousing yourself with perfume or cologne is no substitute for soap and water!".

Fragrant Liar said...

Yeesh, dinner, a bachelorette party, and gas. What could be more fun?

ICKY said...

Ahhh the delicate art of crop dusting.
Often preformed by waiters...but a waitress?

Pearl said...

Roshni, I had not looked at it that way. :-D

Fancy Schmancy, I enjoy a posting with a sense of humor!

Fragrant Liar, that’s what I was thinking!

Icky, always with the witticisms. :-D

Warty Mammal said...

Yikes. Time to break out the charcoal-lined underpants, methinks.

Green-Eyed Momster said...

That's awful! I'm so sorry. I'm sorry you have to work for peanuts, too.
It was nice hearing from you today. Thanks for stopping by!


KMcJoseph said...

Reminds me of that Seinfeld where the valet parker permanently fouls Jerry's car with his BO and he can't even sell it to a used car place.

Phil Schitz here said...

My money is on the waitress "dumping it out". Back in the day, I used to manage bouncers in a night club. A couple of the bouncers had this habit where they would seek out attractive women with their boyfriends and make "Napalm runs". In other words, they were passin gas. They thought it was hilarious because quite a few times, the girl would blame her boyfriend for passing gas.

For the life of me, I have no idea why I hired those two.

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