motorboatin’ with the chef.

29 Jul

A fun thing about the restaurant business is that sometimes you have to cater a party that you’d otherwise be a guest at and instead of schmoozing and boozing, you wind up clearing plates off of people’s tables and brewing coffee for 100 of your friend’s closest friends. Tonight was one such night, except that I wasn’t technically invited to the party and I wasn’t technically working it either, so I basically just put on a shit ton of makeup and chased my babygirl around a backyard for 5 hours while Harry cooked steak and my parents hung out with their friends.

Something that maybe you don’t know about Harry is that he’s a breast man to the max, so imagine my shock and dismay when my Cater Waiter(esses) showed up in the uniform that Harry instructed them to be in – white polo shirts on a day where the forecast ranged from 70% rain to 100% depending on the hour. Luckily the waitresses were Things 1 & 2 (1 has requested that I call her by her first name when she’s not in the restaurant but I honestly don’t even know what it is) so they enjoy being completely sexually harassed by their devilishly handsome nearly-middle-aged Chef. In fact, on more than one occasion I’ve walked in on Thing 2 complimenting Harry for his thick head of hair, and has even asked me for permission to run her hands through it, which I obviously granted because what the fuck do I care if a woman wants to run her hands through my husbands hair? What’s the worst that can happen?

That’s the thing about being married to the devilishly handsome nearly-middle-aged Chef. You have to compete with Things 1 & 2 for his love and attention. Luckily, I won out tonight, most likely because the weather ended up clearing up so the wet waitress uniform contest never went down and because I was wearing a Gilly Hicks weekend bra and a low cut tank top that my babygirl kept pulling down with her little feetsies every time I tried to pick her up, causing my boobs to be like totally out there. They were so out there that my mom looked down at them and was like “Where did those come from??” and I was like “I know they’re big but they’ve always been there,” and she was like “No, I’m talking about your nails,” because they’re like glow-in-the-dark neon pinkish-orangish. But that’s how big they were tonight, big enough that I assumed my mom didn’t even recognize them. As a result, I was fortunate enough to not only win the love and attention of Harry, but also I scored this totally awesome and romantic photo, taken by Thing 1 herself. I’m one lucky girl. And yes, I am flicking him in response to his lewd actions, so don’t think I’m not like a demure and well-mannered princess, because I totally am.

In other news, I saw my Gay Asian Waiter today! It was awesome! Well it was only for like 8 minutes and I got really mad at him because he’s totally scamming me and trying to convince me to to take him to some concert in Vegas that we’re both trying to win tickets to even though if he wins he’s not going to bring me because he totally SUCKS, but it was still really nice to hug him and talk some smack and catch up on gossip. So now I like totally have to win the tickets because apparently that’s the only way that I’m gonna get to go. I feel like in life, concert tickets should go to those worthy, and in the case of a festival that features Brad Paisley and Pitbull and No Doubt and Tay Tay and is hosted by Ryan Seacrest, I should have fucking front row seats. Oh and it’s in Vegas which has really good restaurants and yummy drinks so all I’m saying is that if you know someone who can get me tickets and airfare and hotel accommodations to the iheartmusic festival in Vegas, please give them my email address and tell them that me and Charlie will do ANYTHING. LITERALLY ANYTHING. for seats. This includes, but is not limited to, tattooing the likeness of the said ticket-getter on our asses and attending the concert partially nude. A special treat, if I do say so myself.

Also in other news, I’ve been working on considering becoming a beer expert, in the sense that I’m going to buy new beer for the restaurant, like maybe the kind that looks like wine but is really an IPA or a Stout or something. I really have no intention of ever drinking anything that even remotely resembles a hoppy or heady or bitter brew or whatever it is they say, I will still only drink Bud Light. Although I tried a cider and it was really yummy, like wine coolers for snobs or something. So if you have any ideas on what beers will give me mad street cred, comment on this post. Ok, fine I’m just trying to get you to comment because like nobody ever does. Ok I’m really just testing to see who gets to the end of these posts.


2 Responses to “motorboatin’ with the chef.”

  1. SUSAN July 29, 2012 at 12:47 am #

    I always get to the end and it always puts a smile on my face :). Great picture. Thing 1 really knew what she was doing. She must know something about breasts also, and I know about Thing 2 and Harry’s hair. She does love that hair. Keep blogging,

    P.S. You really need to get to know Thing 1’s name. You know how much she hates being called Thing 1!!!!!!!!

  2. mindy July 29, 2012 at 3:30 pm #

    Try dogfish head beer.

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