Found: the Worst Man in America

What a little asshole.

What a little asshole.

This video has been floating around for a day or two now and I was hesitant to post it because I knew it would stir up some controversy. Yes, normally, I’m not one to shy away from controversy, but this one is really upsetting. Lots of people give me shit about coming down on someone’s opinion when all I do all day is spout out my own. “Oh, so you can have your opinion, but whenever someone disagrees with you, they’re wrong?” people tell me. Actually, no. I welcome all opinions and I seldom, if ever, delete differing ones from this blog or from the Bitchy Waiter Facebook Page.

The video was posted on Facebook by someone named Montell L. Jackson who went out to dinner at a place called Fire Mountain in Michigan. As they left, some asshole called them faggots and it just went down from there. It happened in front of the restaurant but the man in the video is NOT an employee of the restaurant. He’s just a delightful piece of shit who happened to be there stuffing food in his face, as if there was any room in his stomach for anything other than vile hatred and sheer stupidity. Of course the video went viral. I think all people have a right to their opinion. If this asshole wants to think that all gay people should be put to death, he can go right on and think it. What I disagree with is his need to yell it across a parking lot to a group of friends who were just minding their own business and trying to have a meal. I am not going to post the Facebook page of the restaurant or the name of the bigot on the video, because I am not trying to ruin anyone’s business or personal life. I know plenty of others will post it and I don’t need to bother. I am posting it because this needs to be seen. More and more, our country is becoming one that is accepting of all people no matter what their lifestyle is. With same-sex marriage becoming the new normal, it is easy to think that we are on the path to equality for all, but then a video like this surfaces and it is a harsh bitch slap to the face as to how far we need to go.

No matter what your feeling are on gay people, only the worst kind of person would ever think this is an appropriate way to treat another human being. I am prepared for the backlash that may come from posting this video and I realize I may lose some followers because of it. However, it’s worth it to me to step of the bitch box for one day and remind people that everyone in this world deserves to be happy. If what you do with your life doesn’t affect anyone, then why should it upset some asshole who is eating in the same restaurant with you?

And kudos to the Montrell for staying cool and calm in the video because I probably would have tried to talk back and then gotten my ass kicked.

 

 


 

Facebook is the New Complaint Box For Restaurants

call a waa-mbulance

call a waa-mbulance

I fell into a deep dark hole last night that I had a very difficult time pulling myself out of. I’m not talking about the camel toe that was happening at Table 4. I’m talking about reading the comments on the Facebook pages of major chain restaurants. They are hilarious. If you are in need of a way to kill at least an hour of your time, by all means, follow my example. There was a time when if a customer had an issue with their meal or service in a restaurant, they simply told their server or asked to speak to a manager. They would have a face to face conversation; the customer explaining their issue and the staff coming up with a solution. Times have changed and it seems that the way people are most comfortable complaining nowadays is via a Facebook Page. AND USING THE CAPS LOCK BUTTON TOO. I guess it’s just easier to go to Facebook than it is to speak to a human being.

I started with Chili’s. The main thing I noticed about the Chili’s Facebook Page is that there are a lot of people in Kaufman, Texas who want a Chili’s in their town. Post after post is from sad individuals in Texas who are craving some crappy food from Sysco.

 

Poor Cari. She probably only has Pizza Hut, Applebee’s and Sonic to satisfy her urge for sub-par food from a chain restaurant.

 

Some people are on the page to compliment Chili’s, like Tara who loves the new look at her local Chili’s and is probably taking notes so that she can spruce up her home. No HGTV for Tara. She’s got Chili’s!

 

 

Most people want to complain though. For instance, Mary is very upset about something that probably has ruined her whole entire life.

 

How can a happy hour be anything but depressing as hell without White Zinfandel? The humanity, Chili’s, my God!

 

And what about good ol’ David who just wants what’s coming to him. All he wants is his fair share.

 

After I grew tired of the whining about Chili’s I went to the Facebook Page of Applebee’s for even more entertainment. The first comment that caught my eye was that of Mary Elizabeth who apparently does not know what the mute button is for on her remote control.

 

Ironic, isn’t it, that she is complaining about “nails on a chalkboard” by using all caps which is the Internet equivalent?

 

And what about Jessi who practically had her child’s birthday ruined when the servers wouldn’t sing happy birthday to him? I can imagine that Jessi’s server went to the kitchen and yelled out those dreaded four words, “I need birthday singers” and the servers all scattered like roaches when you turn on the kitchen light in the middle of the night.

 

I do agree with Jessi that it was shameful that the server dropped half of the dessert on the floor and left it there without offering a replacement. However, I think the first indication that her child’s birthday was going to be shitty was when she pulled into the parking lot of Applebee’s.

Jennifer went to the Facebook page to let them know that she has officially given up on Applebee’s.

 

With that many poor experiences at an Applebee’s you would think she would have given up a long time ago, but Jennifer is not a quitter. She likes to make sure something really really sucks ass before she decides to give up on it. Cold food, hair in the food, raw chicken? No big deal, but I guess the bad service was just the straw that broke the camel toe’s back. However, it looks like the Guest Relations Team is going to send Jennifer a coupon to give them one last chance to prove to her that they deserve her respect. If I know Jennifer, (and I totally don’t) she will go back to Applebee’s as soon as she gets that $5 coupon.

 

I think my favorite thing about all the posts on these pages is that Facebook lets me embed them on my very own blog so that people who read my blog can interact directly with Chili’s and Applebee’s customers. Ah, technology. Feel free to add your comments to the Facebook posts. It’s fun, but beware: if you start to read all the complaints, you will quickly lose two hours of your day and some of your brain cells will rot away as you try to understand what some of them are saying. If you’re like me, and have very few brain cells left,  you might want to save them. However, the sheer joy I get from reading complaints on Facebook is almost worth losing a few brain cells. I’m already a dumb ass so I may as well be a dumber ass.

 

I Think I Caught Ebola From Table 16

either way, I feel like shit

either way, I feel like shit

I don’t want to freak anybody out, but I think I might have Ebola. No, I haven’t been to any West African countries in the last 10 days, but a man at Table 16 a couple of days ago seemed suspicious and I wonder if I caught it from him. Maybe I’m just jumping to conclusions, but I heard that a man here in New York City was taken to Mount Sinai Hospital on Sunday night with a high fever and a fucked up stomach and that they isolated his ass right quick in case it was Ebola. They are saying that it probably isn’t, but what if it is? And what if that man rode the subway and then coughed up a bunch of fucking Ebola spores all over the damn place and one of them landed on a subway pole and then someone else touched that pole and then that someone was the man who was sitting at Table 16 on Sunday?

The Man at Table 16 had a runny nose and a cough and his eyes looked all watery and shit. Yes, it may have been a cold, but it could have been Ebola and I don’t want to take any chances. This morning, I woke up feeling not quite myself so I Googled the symptoms of Ebola, and oh my God, I have like every single one:

  • Fever: Okay, I don’t have that symptom, but still: pretty sure I have Ebola.
  • Headache: Yes! I woke up this morning with a splitting headache. I mean it was pounding and it felt like my brain was trying to escape through my ear holes. I took two aspirin and drank a bunch of water, but my head still hurts and the room is spinning.
  • Joint and muscle aches: Oh My God, yes! My shoulders are sore and so are my legs and my arms. True, I went to the gym yesterday for the first time in three weeks and took a Boot Camp class, but I’m pretty sure the soreness is due to the fact that I got the fucking Ebola from Table 16.
  • Weakness: Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. I was so weak this morning when I got up, I couldn’t get out of bed. I laid there until 11:20 and finally got up to go to the bathroom and then crawled right back to bed. Even now, it is taking every last bit of energy I have to type out this blog post, which could be my last one, thanks to Table 16.
  • Diarrhea: Okay, this is very personal and I hate to discuss it, but yes, this too is a symptom I have. I can’t imagine it has anything to do with the burrito I had for dinner last night at 1:00 AM or the two cupcakes that I had after the burrito. Or the Mountain Dew. The only logical explanation is Ebola, of course.
  • Vomiting: I seem to recall throwing up last night at the Hunters Point subway station on the 7 train. It seems like a dream sorta, but I’m pretty sure it happened on the way home from my show and after I went out for celebratory cocktails. I had many cocktails, mostly vodka ones, but I switched to margaritas at one point and then took a shot of something that a stranger bought for me. Now that I think about it, I for sure threw up last night and it most certainly was because I have Ebola.
  • Stomach pains: My stomach is tied up in knots today. It’s sore from all the dry heaving after I threw up and continued to vomit out air. I can’t think of any other reason that my stomach would be in pain other than catching Ebola from that asshole at Table 16.
  • Lack of appetite: I cannot even imagine eating anything at all today except Saltine Crackers and Ginger Ale. I have no appetite, whatsoever and the thought of putting food into my stomach makes the room start spinning again. Actually, what sounds kinda good is a cheeseburger from McDonald’s. Or Doritos maybe. Or chocolate pudding. But nothing else. I curse this Ebola!

After studying those symptoms, I think I can say it’s official: I have Ebola and I owe it all to the dick at Table 16. (He only left me a 10% tip, by the way.) More than likely, this is my last blog post ever because I’m pretty sure everyone who gets Ebola dies. If by chance, I wake up tomorrow and feel better I will know it is because of one of two things: either a miracle occurred that healed me from this horrible virus or I was just hungover as hell today. Only time will tell.

Farewell.

If You Don’t Like Bugs, Don’t Sit on the Patio

Deal with 'em.

Deal with ‘em.

This is the story of a lady who hated bugs. She did not like bugs in any way and did not like bugs on any day. Not red bugs or bed bugs, black bugs or white bugs, big bugs or small bugs nor wig bugs or tall bugs. She. Hated. Bugs.

“Oh, I just can’t stand them” she’d say. “With their creepy little legs and their beady little eyes; laying all their eggs; I hate them worse than flies.”

The lady’s name was Betty and all of her friends knew how she felt about creepy crawlers. No amount of discussion could convince Betty that bugs had any purpose in life other than to freak her out.

“But what about Lady Bugs?” they’d say. “They’re so cute. Or Rolly Polly Doodle Bugs? Surely you don’t mind them.”

Betty minded every kind of bug. Betty hated bugs.

One day, Betty made plans to go out to dinner with her best friend Jane. Well, Betty thought that Jane was her best friend, but in reality Betty got on Jane’s last fucking nerve and the only reason Jane tolerated Betty was out of a sense of obligation. You see, they were once very close in college and their mothers were best friends, but over the years their interests had changed. Jane continued to be cool while Betty turned into an annoying fuck of epic proportions. Still, Jane made time to have dinner with Betty every four or five months.

The two women arrived at the restaurant which had a quaint little patio in the backyard.

“Oh, let’s sit outside,” said Betty. “The weather is so nice tonight. Would you like that, Jane? Would you like to sit outside on the patio as we catch up? I have so much to tell you since we last saw each other. My goodness, I truly do. I just can’t wait to share every single thing that has happened to me in the last 16 weeks, 3 days, 21 hours and 14 minutes since we last saw each other. Shall we sit outside, Jane? Shall we? Oh please say you want to sit outside, dear Jane.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” said Jane. “Let’s just do this. Two for outside,” said Jane to the waiter.

The waiter put down his glass of seltzer and led the two women to a table on the patio. He placed two menus on the table and told them he would be right back to see what they would like to drink. As they sat down, Betty looked at the garden that was blooming all around them and began to think of all the bugs that might be crawling around on the plants.

“Are you still freaked out by bugs?” asked Jane.

“Well, I’m better than I used to be,” Betty lied. “But I don’t think I can face sitting here.”

“What is it, you cunt face?” asked Jane.

“Jane, did you just call me a ‘cunt face’?”

“No,” Jane lied. “I said ‘what is it you can’t face?’ Jeez, Betty. Chill out.”

“Oh, well, I just think this table is a little too wobbly. Let’s move to that one over there.”

Betty picked up the menus just as the waiter was coming back to the garden to take their drink order. Betty waved at him as if he wouldn’t see that they had moved five feet from where they were the last time he saw them. “Yoo hoo! We’re over here now!”

“Yeah, we had to move because Betty doesn’t like bugs,” smirked Jane.

The waiter took their drink orders; Betty asked for a water with extra lemon while Jane ordered a dirty vodka martini with extra olives. “Like, porn star/Lindsay Lohan dirty,” she said. “And hurry.”

As Jane opened the menu, Betty looked down at the cement to make sure there were no bugs that were plotting out their attack on her legs. Although she saw nothing, she realized that she was still too close to the plants for her to feel comfortable.

“Jane, dear, would you mind too terribly if we move to that table over there?” she asked.

“Bugs?” said Jane.

“No, no, no, it’s just that the sun is shining in my eyes and I want to be able to give my full attention to you and not have to be thinking about shielding my eyes as I try to tell you about my love life-”

“Fine,” grunted Jane. “Let’s go. You really need to get past this whole ‘bugs are scary’ thing.”

Betty tried to convince her friend that it was just the sun and the wobbly table, but Jane knew it was because Betty thought a bug might climb up her leg and sneak into her vagina. At this time the waiter reappeared with drinks for the two women.

“Yoo hoo, we’re over here now. Yoo hoo!! The sun was shining in my eyes at that other table. I swear it wasn’t because I thought a bug might crawl up my leg and sneak into my vagina or anything like that.”

The waiter didn’t give a shit because all he was thinking about was what kind of shift drink he would be having two hours later. He placed their drinks before them, telling them he would be right back to take their food order. He noticed how Jane practically grabbed the martini off the tray as if she needed more than oxygen. He understood how she felt and made his way back inside the restaurant.

Two minutes later, he heard a scream from the patio; a blood curdling scream that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Betty came running into the restaurant, arms flailing about her body.

“Oh my GOD! A bug just crawled up my leg and tried to sneak into my vagina! Your patio is swarming with bugs! What kind of patio has that many bugs?? Oh my god! Why are there so many bugs out there?” she cried.

“Well, it’s outside, so it’s kinda their home,” replied the waiter.

This is when Jane came inside as well, an empty martini glass in her hands. She handed a twenty dollar bill to the waiter and looked at her friend.

“Listen, Betty. Bugs are bugs. They exist. If you don’t want to be close to them, don’t ask to sit on the fucking patio, cunt face. Bugs always find the bitches. I’m outta here.”

Jane sauntered out of the restaurant, leaving Betty the Bug Bitch alone and embarrassed. Betty didn’t know what to do or say, so she straightened her hair and adjusted her skirt. She cleared her throat and said, “I do not like bugs in any way and do not like bugs on any day. Not red bugs or bed bugs, black bugs or white bugs, big bugs or small bugs nor wig bugs or tall bugs.” With that, she left the restaurant.

“Bugs always find the bitches,” said the waiter.

Bartender Sets Man’s Head on Fire With Flaming Cocktail

Burn, baby, burn

Burn, baby, burn

I have never been a fan of flaming cocktails. Nor do I like cherries flambé or anything else that will be set on fire moment before ingesting it. I figure my digestive track has enough to deal with with all the cheese and tequila I give it, so I may as well draw the line at fire. However, if there is something on the menu that can be set ablaze, you can be sure that someone is going to want to order it.

A bar in Lithuania called Naktinis Tbilsis has a drink named a Flaming Lamborghini. It is a mixture of Sambuca and Kahula that is torched and then the customer is supposed to drink it through a straw while it’s still on fire. Again, I would think only a very specific person would want a drink called a Flaming Lamborghini, but someone ordered it and it went wrong. Really really wrong. We have all had customers that we wish we could slap upside the head or accidentally spill a glass of ice water on, but this bartender basically just set the man on fire. The man was seriously injured. The owner of the club and the bartender visited him in the hospital and the club has agreed to pay for his treatment. The bartender must have watched the video and saw how uncaring she looked and thought that she better make an appearance at the hospital to make it look like she’s not a stone cold bitch. According to Lithuanian news site Lyras.lt (translated), the man should heal pretty well, but he may have scars. One thing is for certain: he will never order another Flaming Lamborghini again.

Let’s evaluate the video, shall we:

0:00 Everything seems fine and dandy. The club is rocking and people are having a great time in Lithuania. Party on, Lithuanians, party on.

0:03 The bartender is all, “I’m gonna make you this really great drink, y’all. It’s called the Flaming Lamborghini! You’ll love it.”

0:12 The bartender says, “Lemme get this straw so you can suck flames out of it.”

0:18 Future Human Torch says, “Hey buddy, come here. We’re gonna drink fire, it’s gonna be great. Here take my seat and I’ll move down one.”

0:25 The bartender prepares her arsenal.

0:30 We have lift off. The man is on fire and his friend is so grateful that it’s not him with a flaming head of hair.

0:32 The bartender is like, “Oh, shit, lemme get this bottle out of the way so it doesn’t explode and ruin my dress that I got at the Lithuanian Dress Barn.

0:33 The douchebag in the white shirt in the bottom right corner thinks it’s the funniest thing he has ever seen since Bronson Pichnot played Balki on Perfect Strangers.

0:35 Everyone in the bar tries to help the man. Well, everyone except the people who actually work there.

0:36 The bartender pulls an Urkel and says, “Did I do that?”

0:38 A waitress in a long black pony-tail is all, “Yeah, whatever. Table 12 needs his draft beer so I guess I have to get it myself now? I am NOT tipping out for this.”

0:40 The bartender decides it’s a good time to wipe down her bar because even though one of her customers is ablaze, that is no excuse for a sloppy bar.

0:47 The bartender decides to try to give rat’s ass and attempts to hand the guy a bev nap because whenever someone has third-degree burns all over their face, that’s what they want: a fucking bev nap.

0:52 Pony-tail babe is still pouring a draft beer because her customers are way more important than the man writing in pain who looks like he just took a nap on a bar-b-q grill.

0:56 The bartender finally leaves from behind the bar to see if the man she just torched needs anything like bandages, burn salve or a refill of his Flaming Lamborghini.

1:00 The man in the white short-sleeve shirt sees an opening at the bar and decides this is the perfect time to get the attention of the pony-tail chick and order himself another beer.

Employee Mistreats Doughnuts, Gets Fired For It

Voodoo Doughnut

Voodoo Doughnut

Thank you to KWG in Portland, Oregon for this very important news story about someone who is wasting the precious commodity that is known as a Voodoo doughnut. I have been to Voodoo Doughnuts once and the doughnuts should be held in the greatest respect. They should be placed on a pedestal and worshipped and adored. However, an employee got angry at a customer and instead decided to put two doughnuts under the windshield wipers of a customer’s car. What kind of world do we live in where a food service employees thinks it’s a good idea to waste doughnuts?

The story goes that a customer named Luke Copeland had placed an order for $2000 worth of doughnuts. That is a lot of fucking doughnuts. No word on what he needed that many doughnuts for, but I can only assume it was for one of those massive pastry orgies that everyone in the Northwest goes to every other Wednesday night. While he was inside picking up his orgy supplies, an employee was pissed off that Luke had parked someplace that wasn’t an actual parking spot even though someone else in the store had told him it was okay to park there. This is when the angry employee grabbed a couple of spare doughnuts and placed them on the windshield.

For the love of God, think of the doughnuts! Think of the doughnuts, people. Doughnuts belong on plates and napkins and in some very unusual circumstances, a penis, but never on a car windshield.

Luke was upset. Now if it was me, I’d be like, “Cool, two free doughnuts!” but Luke isn’t me. He went in an complained and basically no one in the store cared. I think Luke could have just removed the doughnuts with his hands, brushed them off and had them as a snack, but based on the video, it looks like he turned on his windshield wipers instead. Umm, who the fuck thinks windshield wipers are going to do anything to doughnuts other than make a big bukkake mess on your windshield? The manager of the store, David Drexler, found about the doughnut smear and promptly fired the employee and gave Luke some compensation: a free dozen doughnuts every month for a year.

This is my cue to drive my ass to Portland, park in front of a Voodoo Doughnuts and stick a couple of Entenmann’s under my windshield wipers and hope that David will send me a box of free doughnuts every month. If that doesn’t work, I have this to say to Luke Copeland:

“Luke, I am your father. Please send me the doughnuts.”