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musings on being lame.

17 Jul

I’ve just been accused of posting something lame by one of my “friends.”

You know what, dude? I try really really hard not to be lame. In fact, one might argue that I am the least lame girl in town.

The following are examples of how not lame I am.

  • I sport like 6 bracelets at a time from (chain stores) all over the world.
  • I didn’t get the anti-reflective stuff on my glasses so as to fully achieve the “nerd chic” look, which is all the rage right now.
  • I wear Tory Burch flats to work because I work in Plainview and in this town, conformity rules.
  • My babygirl wears a vintage charm necklace and can perform a one-man version of Macbeth. She’s 2.
  • I can’t remember if in the olden days when I wrote these posts, I used all lowercase letters or not. I feel like I did to be stylish, but it goes against nearly everything I believe in. (If you spell a lot as one word, please stop reading now and never ever ever ever try to contact me again. You are dead to me.)
  • That’s all I can think of. Maybe you’re right, Sandy.

In other news, being a mommy to two restaurants is really annoying for me, and potentially interesting to you. So maybe I’ll actually write about the business again.

Today was my first day back from vacation (Naturally, we went to Disney World. Because there is nothing more relaxing than chasing hungry and tired babygirls/stepkids/dads around multiple theme parks and hotel lobbies for 7 days. The highlight is a tie: the Jr. High Miss America Pageant and a child talent scouting conference, both held in my hotel. Exploiting children is one of my favorite hobbies, that and car singing). I spent my first 4 hours back at the restaurant working on a list of things to do so that I can be focused and completely on my game. It currently consists of the following items:

  • call farms.
  • make an about page on the website.
  • plan a beer halloween party.
  • reboot hashbrown harry’s. 
  • “email.” (I don’t remember to whom I am to send one)
  • find miniature disposable tongs.
  • refinance house.

The to-do list was all I did. Oh no wait. I also bought a stamp and a smoothie. I was trying to do other stuff but then the whole lame fiasco went down and now all I can think about is how true it truly truly is.

The new restaurant (Wait, have we even talked about the new restaurant?? Ok, we opened a new restaurant. It’s fucking baller. There’s incredible beer. My belly is like, dude, stop drinking that shit, you look preggers and it’s too hot outside for more than one layer of Spanx.) is getting on nicely. We’re yet to be reviewed by the newspaper. The food is yummy and I play Lumineers radio on Pandora, so basically we’re guaranteed a perfect rating. If we don’t get a perfect rating I’ll basically go into a state of depression so deep that people will confuse me with Wednesday Adams and my daughter will cry every time she sees me. I sure hope the reviewer is reading this so she realizes the potential damage she’s doing to an adorable Shakespeare-performing babygirl.

On Tuesdays we have Taco Tuesdays, and it gets super crowded,  which I find really confusing since the menu is in no way Mexican and we don’t have guacamole, and why would you want to go someplace that doesn’t have guac for your tacs? Alas, people are entitled to make the decisions they make, even if they are wrong, and show up at my restaurant on a stupid night of the week. Fools.

The new restaurant is in a town so deeply Jappy that I started talking like I’m from Long Island again, a habit I happily kicked when I was in my tweens. I sound like Fran Drescher. I constantly make myself want to puke. It’s so Jappy that I think I’m going to have a CAMP viewing party on Friday nights. Oh shit! Something to add to my to-do list! No, like I really think I’m gonna do that. Not taking advantage of being a Jewish business owner in this town is like not taking advantage of being an Eskimo on a college application. For instance, I’m currently planning a “Jews and Brews” charity event, and there’s a farm-to-table Rosh Hashanah menu on the horizon. Also a weed dinner (dreams do come true!!!) but I probably shouldn’t talk about that because my mom totally reads this and she’ll be all disappointed in me and lecture me and say “Shelby you can’t sell weed!” and I’ll say “But moooommmmmmm!!!” and she’ll say “I said no.” and I’ll say “I hate you mom! You ruin EVERYTHING!!!” And then I’ll do it anyway.

OK. Let’s talk soon, alright? Because seriously, I really do miss you.





naughty (and nice, i guess) holiday party roundup.

12 Dec

Something really interesting about the restaurant business is Christmas Parties. (Oh, hey guys, remember Hanukkah? The holiday that it ACTUALLY IS right now? Can SOMEBODY bring a fuckin’ Secret Santa gift that’s wrapped in blue and silver paper for once??? Whatever, maybe next year. Anyway…)

drunk christmas

Right now we’re deep in the heart of party season. What this means for you is that you get to drink with your colleagues and eat a free meal. What it means for me and my staff is that if we could all crawl in some sort of hole and hide from all of you freaks, we definitely would.

No offense, but the holidays bring out the worst in you. Like, we get it. You’re stressed because your kid hates you but you still need to buy him a skateboard (Yo, did I mention I got a skateboard for Hanukkah? A pink one with green wheels? Because I’m a woman-child? And I’m going to break my face open and post gruesome photos of it? And it’s going to be so awesome?) But that’s no reason to be scroogey/too happy/wear terrible festive clothing/berate me because you drank 13 double Jack Honeys on the rocks and we ran out.

What you may not realize is that you don’t all suck in the same way. There are many, many different types of Holiday Parties! And with each party, a different Spotify list is necessary. Spotify lists are essential to the success of a holiday party, because at my particular establishment, we have carpet and so bosses have the perfect excuse to not pay a DJ, disappointing millions of horny secretaries who are sincerely looking forward to grinding on a doctor or partner or other secretary or whomever. Because the best part about the office holiday party is most definitely the one-night-only lift on the company sexual harassment policy. Gotta take advantage of that shit.

Merry Christmas Party Season to the following partiers:

1. Christmas Over-Enthusiasts. These bitches show up an hour and a half before the party starts to “accent” our holiday decorations with their own. Poinsettia leaves strewn across the tablecloths, cinnamon sticks in the water glasses, reindeer antlers hanging on the wall and a personalized rudolph nose for each guest. They play every classic holiday game there is, including an ugly sweater contest, “pack santa’s toybag” and other shit that nobody wants to participate in. PLAYLIST: 100% Classic Christmas, highlighted by the Mariah version of “All I Want For Christmas is You” and “The Hanukkah Song” and the ever horrible “Dominic the Donkey.” They sing along to nearly everything, except when they’re laughing-til-they-cry during the “Naughty or Nice gift exchange.”

2. Cheap Boss. This guy calls in a lunch reservation for 8 people so that he doesn’t need a party package, and throughout the month he needs to “add a couple folks” until the number has topped 40. He fancies up the non-private room with one bouquet of Trader Joe’s seasonally appropriate flowers and gifts his staff with leftover giveaways from the pharmaceutical rep. Half of his staff “goes to the bathroom” together and hits up the bar to take a bunch of shots, because he has decided that booze is not appropriate to celebrate the holidays. After party is back to work.     PLAYLIST: Fuck that, we’re listening to country music. If this isn’t technically a holiday party, then I can technically listen to my regular playlist, and sing at the top of my lungs to every other song.

3. Funeral. Someone needs to tell these people that they’re at a party. They are so dull that if we talk about how boring they are in the server station too loud, they will all hear us and start crying. They all wear festive clothing, which is all ugly. They sit down the second they get to the party, which makes for an awkward cocktail hour with passed hors d’ouerves.  After party is the next morning on Facebook, with elegantly posed photos of each attendee.     PLAYLIST: The Michael Buble Christmas album, followed by the Charlie Brown Christmas album by the Vince Guaraldi Trio, followed by a funeral death march performed by a local high school bagpipe band, with a finale of “River” by Joni Mitchell on repeat for the last hour.

4. Drunken Fools. The holidays are the ultimate time to attempt a sexual encounter with your boss and/or his wife, and there’s no better way to do this than to drink yourself silly. At some parties, this scenario is a sure thing. Except you can’t really fuck a boss who’s passed out in the corner, so there goes that theory. These party people decorate by coming early and taking shots at the bar. After party is at the strip club. After after party is at work the next day, where everyone is still drunk.     PLAYLIST: The Chris Brown Christmas Album, along with whatever else the DJ chooses. Your boss hired a DJ for this one, because he wants to show off his moves and he’s seriously hoping to get his wife laid tonight.

5. Teachers. Teacher parties fall into 2 categories, both of which involve karaoke. Both after parties are bed, there’s school to be taught tomorrow! Except for this one guy. It look’s like he’s gonna need a sub.

  • 5a. Drunk Teachers. Choose the cheapest food package possible. Complain about everything from the very first day of planning. Old teachers are the life of the party. Pay in singles.      PLAYLIST: Karaoke machine. Then the Chris Brown Christmas album.
  • 5b. Sober Teachers. Require more food than drunk teachers, but want to spend less money than them. Complain about nothing except how they don’t have enough food. Young teachers are the life of the party. Pay in singles.     PLAYLIST: Karaoke machine. Then the Michael Buble Christmas album.

6. Segregation City. This group is a mixed bag of blue collar and white collar workers. The sales department and the warehouse guys. The queen bees and the worker bees. People who hire cleaning ladies and people who are cleaning ladies as their second job. This is my preferential group, because it’s sort of like having two parties at one time and it makes me feel more accomplished. Like I brought together separate worlds with my pulled pork sliders. This party typically starts slow and ends with some crazy ass afterparty at the local Spanish bar.     PLAYLIST: Feliz Navidad by Jose Feliciano and Pitbull and Gloria Estefan and JLo.

7. Cool People. I’m not gonna lie and act like there’s more than one of these a year. It’s a needle in a christmas tree farm. These people drink enough to have a hefty liquor tab, but stay sober enough to not urinate on the party room floor. Everyone is dressed fantastically and many of the women wear amazing sparkly platforms that I try to steal. They smoke pot in the parking lot. We all get contact highs. They leave in a timely fashion and tip extra. The after party is a PJ party in someone’s basement apartment and everyone lays around watching Christmas Vacation until the sun comes up.     PLAYLIST: This.  Because I save cool playlists for cool people.

*Note: I am not exempt from this list, but I fall into sort of a hybrid category. My Christmas Party is a lovely combination of #6, #2, #4 and mostly #7 based specifically on my presence. Plus we obviously have a naughty or nice gift exchange.

the official shelbytown summer 2012 self-serve fro yo challenge. (day 2)

10 Jul

So just to review, we’re testing the following self-serve frozen yogurt theories, all based on Yogurt Crazy:

#1: It is impossible to spend less than $5 per yogurt.

#2: No matter how many yogurts you are purchasing, you are always asked if you want a lid.

#3: You are also asked if you want a bag.

Tonight, in an INSANE turn of events, I went to a new yogurt place called Sweet Frog Premium Frozen Yogurt. SIMPLY WORLDS APART FROM  the other place. Just kidding. The only difference is the name and that one place has tile floors, one place has wood floors.

Night #1: July 10th, 9:27pm

Number of yogurts purchased: 1

Topping Highlights: Crapola. 2 chocolate covered almonds, which are inappropriately large to be placed on top of a sundae.

Total cost: $4.48!!!!!!!! (This was a result of the crapola toppings, so don’t be all proud of me. I left the place totally depressed. HOW DARE a new yogurt place not offer rainbow cookies as a topping. That is ludicrous.

Average cost per yogurt: $4.48 – nearly 10 ounces of total misery except that the flavor is thin mint which is my favorite but it looked really icy.

Cashier gender: Female

Tan: Deep orange.

Additional Employees: 3 female, 1 obnoxious male.

Tans: The color of Otto, the Syracuse mascot. A staff that tans together stands together.

Asked if I need lids: NO… because the lids are SELF SERVE!!! Genius!!!

Asked if I also need a bag: No. Bags were neither self serve nor employee serve. They were simply non existent.

Cashier placed the yogurts in the bag: If, by “placing the yogurt in the bag” you mean “stared at me critically while I put my toppings on and pumped my caramel,” then yes.

Additional notes: The ambiance in this place is not to be missed. It looks like a watermelon threw up in an Ikea while basking in the bright Alaska summer sun. I think I may have gotten a fake tan just by standing inside the place. There are adirondack chairs outside* so other than the shitty toppings, icy yogurt and vomitacious atmosphere, it’s definitely the best yogurt place around. I will not be back for sure.


*Sidebar: As the yogurt place is next door to a 5 Guys, my plan is to grab a burger next week and chill in the adirondack chair, maybe take a nap, read a book, catch some rays…. maybe I’ll even start posting from there. But until they get rainbow cookies or fruit loops I’m not going back inside.

hashbrown harry’s was real, assholes. (also inside: a 100th post contest!!!)

12 May

I have so many things on my mind!!!!!

The past few weeks have been verryyyyy  busy for me, and I’ve felt scatterbrained, disconnected from my beloved blog and generally shitty because my babygirl stopped calling me Mama and started calling me “who the fuck is this chick?”

Well, babygirl, Mama’s back in town.

Ok, fine, Mama’s back in town on Monday. After we spend Mother’s Day apart because instead of brunching with the fam I’ve got to spend the day with everyone else’s irritating mom and kid on the Island, serving them things like Ma-Mosas and Homemade Pop Tarts. Which leads me to the first thing that’s been on my mind….

1. Hashbrown Harry’s was a real thing. Do you not understand after all this time that I am a RIDICULOUS PHENOM JACK-OF-ALL-TRADES???? Not only can I make fabric and/or tissue paper flowers in more than 4 varieties and  kill it with a Spotify list, but I can also play the viola  and fix a broken toilet/computer/heart/leg (not really, but I’m glad you’re paying attention)/earring. So  with all that under my belt,  you can bet your ass I can open (and close) a restaurant with eggshell candles and bacon infused Manhattans  for a night. Why the doubt? Because maybe most of the shit you read is like fiction or whatever, and the author maybe writes some stuff that could feasibly be true but you know that there’s no way that in real life she lets her husband tie her hands to her feet behind her and write Shakespeare quotes with a quill and ink on her throbbing abdomen. Well in my real life I make my husband cook local eggs. All this dirty talk is making me think of something else….

2. 50 Shades of Grey started out as a blog. It was all written on a Blackberry or something. So I’ve decided to take my blog from “occasionally inappropriate” to “so out of line you’re embarrassed to even admit that you read it.” Startinggggggggggg……………………….. now. Fine, starting tomorrow. I’m wearing an old camp sweatshirt and sweatpants with holes and I haven’t shaved my legs in a few days. I’m just not feeling overly provocative. Maybe I can focus on other people instead. Hmmm… I wonder how many of my customers have crazy kinky sex. I wonder which of them don’t have sex at all. I wonder which double dates end in foursomes, and which ones end in a swapping sort of thing. Perhaps I should make some sort of comment card where people can anonymously (or even not anonymously. let’s really get crazy!) let me know how many times they’ve each performed oral sex in, let’s say, the past month. And who they’re really thinking about when they’re giving/receiving it. And then I can compile the comment cards and write an expose on the sex lives of desperate Long Island housewives and househusbands. Plus it will probably come in handy because…..

3. I started a Twitter account for the restaurant tonight. I’ve decided to become like the Gossip Girl of the area and instead of writing what’s new on the menu and “book now for grad parties!” and shit like that, I’ll write what people really care about. Like who just got a face lift and which recent divorcee showed up with his new leggy girlfriend and who’s a cheap tipper and who was trying to bed my underage waitress and maybe, just maybe, I’ll throw in the daily specials (prob not). And of course there will be a sexy soundtrack with songs by Billy Currington and Bruno Mars and I’ll take secret snapshots from underneath tables (not in a perv way, freak, just to get a cool angle on people) and let the whole town know what dirty little secrets are lurking around every corner.  Oh wait. Nobody knows who Gossip Girl really is, do they? So people can’t be mean to her and hurt her feelings by calling her a bitch or smack her across the face really really hard. Fuck. I’ll have to rethink my approach a touch.

4. If I don’t see Bruno Mars and Billy Currington live in concert soon I’m literally going to perish. I just like literally can’t listen to their songs without losing part of my soul for never having seen them live. Is it possible to die from amplifier deprivation? I’ll let you know. Or actually, Harry will let you know because I’m assuming that he’ll have to be the one to break the news to all of you that I’m dead and like all the funeral arrangements and whatever. Oh, and if I die, and it turns out Harry really wasn’t paying attention to me all the times I accused him and he denied it, I’d like the song “I Will Follow You Into The Dark” played on repeat for the duration, except the end and then I want the version of “Hotel California” from the movie The Big Lebowski to play. Obv.

5. Speaking of dead Shelbys…. So sad about Carroll Shelby. I totally need to own one of his cars. IT SAYS MY NAME REALLY BIG. Now I just feel like I’ve officially failed in life because I really wanted to get an original before he kicked it. It would have been SUCH a better deal, don’t you think? Well in memory of Carroll Shelby, I wrote my 100th post.

1. Happy 100th Post to meeee!!!!! Whoever came up with the idea to ask a trivia question, I think it sounds like a great idea.  But you know what? My life’s not easy so why should your life be easy? Your answer needs to be in the form of a poem. Doesn’t matter which type (hint: haikus take like 3 seconds, hence their recurring appearances on here) but the answer to the trivia question needs to be in the form of a poem. And then whichever poem I like the best (Naturally, I’m assuming there will be hundreds of entries from which to select) will win a FREE HASHBROWN HARRY’S T-SHIRT. Because like the pop-up, the t-shirts exist too.

So here’s your 100th Blog Post Trivia Question….




Good luck and congratulations to me for continuing me to entertain you more than anyone else in your whole entire life!!!!!!

*Note: The t-shirt does not come with the apron or the waitress. Those are sold separately.