Ready. Set. Conan.

Makin my dreams come true.

Cucumber-Rosemary Gin and Tonic

1 cucumber

1 lime

3 sprigs rosemary

2 oz. Hendrick’s Gin

4 oz. tonic water (preferably Q or Fever-Tree)

ice

Peel one half of a cucumber, and slice a lime into eight wedges. In a highball glass, add three slices of peeled cucumber, 1 sprig rosemary, juice from a lime wedge and 1 ounce gin. Muddle with the back of a spoon.

Strain through a mesh strainer into a second highball glass. Add several cubes of ice, and three slices of unpeeled cucumber. Top with remaining gin and tonic, and serve garnished with rosemary sprigs.

Seriously? What is wrong with people.

Ok. So  I know I'm vegan and I work at The Fat Factory- but I have to. There's only 1 f*cking Vegan cafe in Sacramento and they're fully staffed. (And obviously I'm only qualified to work in restaurants because I'm too f*cking lazy to get a 'real' job). ANYWAY. I've decided the only way to vent my rage and not take it out on my co-workers is by blogging about it. Although I usually give up on most blogs I start- I can honestly say I'm most 'enthusiastic' about this one. So here goes....

1. If you come to The Fat Factory, but you're "watching your weight..." DO NOT ASK ME TO REFILL YOUR DIET COKE SIX TIMES (pretty sure the defeats the purpose of a diet). Also, don't order a 'weight management' salad then proceed to ask for 3 sides of ranch dressing. GROSS.

2. I LOVE large parties. If you can get at least one person to order an alcoholic beverage the entire table will fall under 'peer pressure' and you've got instant happiness all around. BUT if you happen to be a large party that's all about pinching pennies- we're gonna have some problems. This is the Fat Factory- you come here to eat, get fat, and then eat some more. DO NOT ORDER 1 APPETIZER AND 1 PIECE OF CHEESECAKE FOR A PARTY OF 10 AND EXPECT A SERVER TO LIKE YOU. Just don't do it. It's wrong and it's retarded. Sure, we offer complementary bread- but 12 baskets later? Really? It's bread. It's not magical, IT'S NOT CHOCOLATE, and you're basically costing me money at this point.

3. See those bussers over there? The ones that are super cute, super fast, and super mexican? Yeah, I have to TIP them. Which means you have to TIP ME SO THAT I CAN TIP THEM. Get it? No, I don't think you do. Let me just break it down for those of you that are slow. At the Fat Factory (and most restaurants) servers must tip out other parts of the support staff such as Bussers, Food Runners, Bartenders etc... What you leave for us gets divided and disbursed based on percentages.

Let's make it easy- Your bill is $100. You tip the server a MIGHTY $10. (10% for those of you that are.. yeah) Well, of that $100 your server is required to give a "3%" tip to the support staff. So, if you leave us a GIGANTIC 10% tip, we only receive 7% of it. That's $7 for those of you that don't speak math.

Now, let's say you're a normal person who goes out to eat on a somewhat regular basis and you've somehow been educated on proper tipping procedures.

Your bill is $100. You tip the server the proper 20% for excellent service (which like, I totally always give, duhhhh). The server will then tip out 3%/$3 and get to keep the $17. $17 is a totally awesome tip and the server WILL NOT curse your name as you leave the restaurant. I repeat- the server WILL NOT curse your name.

Honestly people, is it that hard? Service staff have to work long hard hours all day every day. Usually they're just putting themselves through college or trying to get by during their divorce. Yes, some wait staff are totally rude and waaaayyy to old to be doing this job- but just give em' a proper tip. Add a couple zero's, commas, colons, whatever. They come into work (because of you) every day just aiming to please- and what do you do? You stiff them, short them, and wave your arms in the air like a damn two year old who needs a refill.


One more thing-  print this out and carry it around with you like it's a free pass to Disney Land.

My favorite poem as a child.

The Dirtiest Man In The World

Oh, I'm Dirty Dan, the world's dirtiest man, I never have taken a shower. I can't see my shirt--it's so covered with dirt, And my ears have enough to grow flowers. But the water is either a little too hot, Or else it's a little too cold. I'm musty and dusty and patchy and scratchy And mangy and covered with mold. But the water is always a little too hot, Or else it's a little too cold. I live in a pen with five hogs and a hen And three squizzly lizards who creep in My bed, and they itch as I squirm, and I twitch In the cruddy old sheets that I sleep in. In you looked down my throat with a flashlight, you'd note That my insides are coated with rust. I creak when I walk and I squeak when I talk, And each time I sneeze I blow dust. The thought of a towel and soap makes me howl, And when people have something to tell me They don't come and tell it--they stand back and yell it. I think they're afraid they might smell me. The bedbugs that leap on me sing me to sleep, And the garbage flies buzz me awake. They're the best friends I've found and I fear they might drown So I never go too near a lake. Each evening at nine I sit down to dine With the termites who live in my chair, And I joke with the bats and have intimate chats With the cooties who crawl in my hair. I'd brighten my life if I just found a wife, But I fear that will never be Until I can find a girl, gentle and kind, With a beautiful face and a sensitive mind, Who sparkles and twinkles and glistens and shines-- And who's almost as dirty as me.
-Shel Silverstein