i am not on acid so please stop asking.

23 Mar

To my dearest readers. Hashbrown Harry’s opens (and closes) on Saturday, April 28th. You’re the first to know, and the first to get a seat. If you’d like to come indulge in 7 courses of farm-to-table late-night breakfast (you can bet your ass it’s going to be the dining experience you won’t want to miss) please send an email to hashbrownharrys@gmail.com and include your name, phone number, # of people and whether you’d like the 9pm or 10pm seating. I have no idea how much it will cost you so don’t ask me. Less than those douchey steak places, I can promise you that.


A really really cool thing about my job is that I can make any type of Jello shots I feel like. Today I decided on pink velvet cupcakes with icing and sprinkles. I also worked on the iced tea layer of an Arnold Palmer Jello square but was way too tired from seeing The Hunger Games into the wee hours of the night to finish them. Tomorrow I’ll add the top layer, but instead of lemonade I’m making orangeade because Syracuse plays at 7:05 and if I like to do whatever I can to support my team.

 In addition to conceptualizing and executing my jiggly creations, I also have the grueling job of arguing with customers about what will or will not make a delicious Jello shot flavor. For instance, some guy told me that Guiness shots and dill pickle shots didn’t sound tantalizing, and I had to get all confrontational with him and threaten to never conversate with him ever ever again. Don’t worry. he came around.

Tonight an interesting thing happened. I was working the room, which is how I typically roll on a Friday night, when one of my waitresses cornered me. “Do you need eye drops?”

I looked at her quizzically.

“I’m just asking. Because I have some. I noticed how glassy your eyes look.”

“I’m not on drugs right now,” I told her. “Is that the word in the server station? That I’m on drugs? Because I’m seriously not.” I stared off at the blimp floating in the corner and the guy dressed as Glinda the Good Witch trying to shoot it down with a BB Gun, but quickly regained my focus.

I declined the eye drops and continued on my way. The hallucinations, in case you’re suspicious, areobviouslythe result of seeing too late of a movie at my old age.

Five minutes later I was chatting with a friendly couple, talking up my Jello shots and late night pop-up restaurant when she asked me if I’m on Acid right now. “Why does everyone keep asking if I’m on drugs?”

“I’m not judging you, I think Acid is great.” At least I know that if I decide to pursue my dream of being a weed dealer I’ll have one customer. Surely if she’s dropping Acid she’s good for a bag of pot every now and then.

The ironic thing about the drugs I was doing all night is that I don’t do drugs at work. Drugs and work just don’t mix unless you’re a pharmacist or a doctor or in the music industry. Instead, I participate in an alternative lifestyle that involves checking my TMZ app, drinking chocolate milk shaken with ice, dancing to the Neon Trees song with Charlie, and answering the phone in a British accent.

The chocolate milk caused my glassy eyes for sure.




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