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Friday, June 10, 2011

Your Wish Being My Command And All...

Ladies and gentlemen, cats and kittens, step right up! Throw a ring onto the pop bottle neck for a dollar and win something worth a dime! Squirt the water into the clown’s mouth, burst a partially inflated balloon with a tip-rounded dart, or – say, you’re a bright kid, am I right? Shh. Don’t tell anyone else…

Step this way.

This, my friend, is the all-seeing iPod, the tune-some prognosticator, the Aural Oracle, if you will. This little baby, set on “shuffle” and played during the morning commute tells you all you need to know about the upcoming weekend.

Let’s listen.

London Calling by The Clash
Black Math by The White Stripes
Strange Times by The Black Keys
Never Do This Again by The M’s
Come Together by The Beatles
Golden Age by TV on the Radio *
Wind Up by Foo Fighters

Yessiree, Bob, you’re going to want to watch that weekend job closely. Count your change, use the talcum powder liberally, and keep a groove in your heart.

But mostly you’ll want to rely on the talcum powder.

So! A quick story, and then it’s off with you…

A re-post, whilst I starch my shirt in time for this evening’s serving gig. This one is called “May I Take Your Plate, Sir?”



It was a black-pantsed and white-shirted Saturday evening.

“Honey! Honey! Could you grab me another plate from the back? I need a second salad plate.”

Could I? But of course! There are, after all, four of us working this room of 160 people. Who wouldn’t want to get you a second plate? People so often forget to fill up a second or third salad plate…

“Do not listen to this man,” the man sitting next to him says. He smiles at me, handsome with his black eyes and white teeth. “Do you speak Arabic?”

I admit that I do not.

A phrase using sounds not found in my own language rolls off his tongue. He says it again, perhaps hoping I will attempt it. Sadly, there is nothing for me to latch on to, no words I have heard before. I start laughing. Smiling, he translates: “He can stay at the table but he will not get a plate!”

Now there’s a phrase I could use in all languages.

Not that I mind running back to the kitchen for another plate, another fork. That’s what I’m paid for, and they are reasonable requests for the banquet hall of a church, after all, even if you require a second and third plate because you’ve used all the other crockery in order to offer those at your own table plates of shrimp, of cheese and crackers, of grapes and strawberries.

Others may wish they had taken a few more shrimp, but not the folks at your table!

As an aside, do you know how hard it is not to pluck the succulent pink and white shrimp from those plates, how difficult it is to scrape them into the garbage pail back by the dishwasher? Almost as hard as it is not to run your finger along the edge of the dessert plate, where someone has scraped off the chocolate ganache…

Don’t think the dishwasher doesn’t see you eyeing those plates.

Michelle, the boss, is in the kitchen. “Hey, you ever talk to T anymore?”

“Sure. He’s working in a kitchen in Bradenton Beach, Florida now.”

“Next time you talk to him, tell him I’m gonna send him a picture of that bruschetta he keeps asking about.”

“What’s that?”

“He wanted to see my bruschetta. Tell him I’ll send photos after work.”

Hmm. Photos of her bruschetta? I think that may be code for something. Sounds dirty. But what are you gonna do? She’s the boss.

“I’ll let him know.”

It was a marathon of an evening, clearing tables and running from one end of the hall to the other and by the end of it, when your spine has been compressed and you are three inches shorter than you were when you started, when your legs are threatening to cede from the body union, and specifically, when there’s cash, what do you do?

You go out.

Erin, Minh, and I went to the Spring for, and I quote, “a drink”.

And three women wearing the same outfit and sporting a collective pony-tail-holder indent in their hair turned one drink into, um, five.

Envision, if you will:
  • Three women, after the second drink, flashing their “You been served, baby!” gang signs (the palms-up, invisible-drink-tray posture of the International Serving Class).
  • Three women, heads together, sharing alternately shouted and whispered stories of sex, fashion, intrigue, and politics.
  • Three women, solving the world’s problems and once again failing to take notes.
  • Three women, tipping heavily.
 It was the night you hope you’ll have but cannot plan for: we came, we saw, and in the words of Erin: We killed it, man; we really killed it.

You been served, baby.

35 comments:

Simply Suthern said...

I need to party with you guys sometime.

Or maybe I just need to serve you to get a hold of those heavy tips.

Susan in the Boonies said...

As long as you're up, would you mind getting me a .....

Oh.

You would.

Nevermind....

Pearl said...

Simply, there's a really dirty joke in there somewhere. :-) MAN do I need more sleep!

Susan, I'd love to. Then I'm gonna grab me some as well and have a seat. :-)

ICKY said...

....and still, no bruschetta pictures.

mybabyjohn said...

I want to know what Icky had to say....reallly...I do!! I try to be especially nice to servers wherever I find them cause I know the agony of defeet.

Oilfield Trash said...

You had me at London Calling.

Great post!!!!

Pearl said...

Just deleted the notation of the comment that Icky ("T") deleted. Knowing him, he was mocking me somehow...

And yes, T. :-) Still no bruschetta pictures! If I see Michelle, I'll talk to her...

mybabyjohn, once you've been a server or worked on your feet, you become a good tipper, and that's for sure!

Glen said...

You had me at London's Calling

Audubon Ron said...

You know, I'm reading this but I've got to say, I'm not into re-posts. Re-posts is like reading the newspaper for 2005 or eating did pizza that sat on the counter a couple of days, which I do. I need to be fed fresh bruschetta.

Pearl said...

Oilfield, thanks! I feel guilty about re-posts, but summer is SUCH a busy time...

Pearl said...

Audobon, as long as I fit in there somewhere with the cold pizza... :-)

jenny_o said...

I just hope you've got those bruised feet propped up resting for this evening's onslaught :)

Pearl said...

jenny_o, I've got a facial scheduled today at noon. :-) That should pull me through the night! (It's right up there with having my hair brushed...)

Doubting Thomas said...

Groove really IS in the heart... and Dr. Scholl's are for the feet. Best wishes for a big payout!

Pearl said...

Doubting Thomas, the Groove IS in the heart isn't it?! :-) Love that song...

Miss Scarlet said...

Thank you, Pearl, for serving me this post... it was sweet and zingy and I'll be back for more.
SX

Pearl said...

Thank you, Miss Scarlet. :-) For you, a clean plate!

Eva Gallant said...

Sounds like a hard night's work, followed by some well deserved fun time!

Douglas said...

Isn't that why that Representative from New York is in trouble? Sending pictures of his bruschetta?

savannah said...

i LOVE that international symbol, sugar! right about now, i'm thinking about using it, too! as in pay yer check and go! ;~D xoxoxoxoxo

Cheryl K said...

Black Math - right on queue for Jack's Anniversary/Divorce party.

Mandy_Fish said...

Aw, those are the best nights.

I do feel as though I've been served. Thank you.

Noe Noe Girl...A Queen of all Trades. said...

What a night!
<><

jabblog said...

I'm always polite to serving staff - does that help??

aBroad said...

1- I would never trust anyone who wanted to "see my bruschetta" .. that's all.
2- London Calling is flitting around in my poor over-crowded brain and sadly, living way down at the bottom of the world, it is not available on my computer from your blog. But I youtubed it so I can listen to it anyway- thank you ..
3-Right now, the music for my weekend might be anything played with great Drama ... think Wagner ... the Valkyrie.. that should do it.
Have a good weekend, love you.

Daisy said...

I've gotta get some girlfriends together and go for "a" drink! Would love to see your gang there! You are amazing!

Pseudo said...

Ah, to be young again.

daisyfae said...

i loved doing the iPod shuffle, until my son ended up jacking my library. when Danzig, Bloodhound Gang and other assorted crap started turning up during my commute? my head hurt. a lot...

love the "solving all the problems of the world, but once again, forgetting to take notes". lord, i wish i had a beer for every time i've done that! it's craic, isn't it?

who said...

I wonder if they have carnalvals where they want you you roll a ring over and then they say your command is my wish, but then of course it would have to be removed if one was playing the game of trying to shoot it in the clown's mouth

That Janie Girl said...

How fun that you went out with friends after that night! I bet you were exhausted...

I love how you put things in words, girly. Love it.

Jeanne said...

Your energy astounds me.

Dr. Cynicism said...

You had me cracking up with "use the talcum powder liberally," and that's before I even got to the story. Sheesh!

W.C. Camp said...

If I had a nickel for everytime someone asked to see my bruschetta!!! I like your work attitude. Sometimes those hard gigs are the best because you feel like you really DID something at the end of the day! Nice post. W.C.C.

IWASNTBLOGGEDYESTERDAY said...

sounds fun!

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