Dear Anthony Hopkins, I want to pose for one of your paintings. "Paint me like one of your French girls." Anthony Hopkins is without question my favorite person to follow on Twitter/IG.
I don't know what to draw. It's been a struggle for like two weeks. I started drawing a veiled bride but lost interest.
Woke up this morning to a drunk guy standing in the empty lot across the street from my apartment building, just hollering about everything at the top of his lungs. He started around 4:45am until about 6:30am. I don't know where he found the energy. When I'm drunk I can do exactly one thing, pass out. Which is why I drink at home, alone.
I'm excited. I found a place that makes fish tacos. It's on their menu. It might be seasonal depending on their food cost and their autumn menu, but fingers are crossed. Real fish tacos are not an easy find in Vegas. It's the desert. Obviously its frozen fish but if the kitchen manager knows what he's doing, the fish will have been frozen only like 4 or 5 days. In full high volume restaurant kitchens, delivery comes twice a week. Sometimes more. I'm excited! I've been craving real fish tacos for about three months. Sure I could make them myself at home but I need to get out more. I do way too many things myself. Way. Too. Many. Things. Myself.
So this place I'm trying for fish tacos is called True Food Kitchen, in Summerlin, of course. Apparently I have to go all the way to Summerlin or Henderson for food. The menu doesn't say what kind of fish it is. My guess is cod or tilapia. And they have Thai coconut seabass *squeel* with bok choy and quinoa rice. *double squeel*
I don't think you understand
If you go a mile in any direction from where I live, it's AYCE buffets, fast food, AMPM, amazing beef tacos sans fish tacos, and chain stores like IHOP. Nothing against the mighty house of pancakes, but it's a chop and drop joint. You know what I'm saying. I miss food.
"What's in a caesar salad?"
Romain lettuce, parmesan cheese, and croutons. Caesar dressing.
"Can I substitute the cheese for..."
No! Because then it's not a caesar salad! Get the fuck out of my restaurant!
Omg Hollywood studios, will you please, please pay me to insult stupid restaurant customers. It'll be the best reality TV show ever. And the millions of industry workers around the globe will absolitely love you for it. Fuck Mr Scream-o. How about show for REAL industry workers?
Here's my thing regarding cooking shows that focus on batshit crazy chefs screaming at their employees, the only person in my thirty plus years working in restaurants that I've ever yelled at, I mean (this close) to getting into a knife fight with, was a chef. A female chef, white, who thought her supremacy went above employment hierarchy. She was wrong. And I made sure she knew it.
Here's the thing I don't understand about white supremacists, why don't they just do everything themselves, among themselves. Why mingle among the rest of us in the real world? Oh that's right because they can't. Heil Hitler. "But housekeeping needs to clean my room right now. Now! No, no, Mexicans are fine for that. Clean my room!"
Um. No. Clean your own room, bitch.
Not long ago I was a dining room manager for a high end residency. I inherited the job. I was the assistant dining room manager. Then one day my boss stopped coming to work. Dunno, he just stopped showing up. I inherited his job, his title, his staff who I had gotten to know well, and his pay. Normally corporate would fly someone in and interview me, but since I had the full support of the powers that be in the residency, and since I was already doing the job, corporate just gave it to me without the formalities. And all was well. Peaceful. Running smoothly.
Until
Jacqueline.
Chef
White
Female
Munstruating 24/7, 365. Batshit crazy.
Jackie. Not her name of course.
Who hired this nutjob?! She yelled and criticized (good lord) everything. "Fucking salt! Who puts fucking salt on salads?!" Um. Lots of people. Why do you care? She had a temper that made the soup nazi (from Seinfeld) look like a soft fuzzy kitten.
I inherited my serving staff. My wonderdul hard working serving staff, mostly Hispanic, making minimum wage, not allowed to accept tips from residents, and mostly part-time, no benefits. Meanwhile Jackie, this nutjob was making close to $70,000 a year salary to scream at people.
One day, Jackie screamed one too many times at the serving staff, over prunes, of all things, and I had had enough.
"Re-train your God damn staff!" She screamed at me. "I don't have time to smash prunes for these old fuckers whenever those Mexicans can't do their jobs and put it on the ticket!"
That was it.
I went behind the chef line with my entire management status and screemed back, "We have jobs because of those old fuckers, so if they want smashed prunes I better see your fat ass with two spoons smashing them!"
In response she screamed back at me, who knows what, and I made one threat before leaving the kitchen. I told her if she got in my face again, see what happens. And sure enough the same night she got back in my face, once more unnecessarily and foolishly. Later that night I wrote corporate a nice letter reminding them our kitchen staff only exists because the residents want us there. They all have kitchens in their units. They don't need us. They want us. If the servers ask the chefs for something without a ticket it's because the resident wants it. Give it to them. Then I proceeded to document Jackie's disruptive behavioral problems, etc., resulting some weeks later with Jackie being transferred to a smaller facility with a $25,000 pay cut. I'm certain she still fantasizes cutting my throat. Fuck her.
Point being, I will never accept a chef yelling at his crew, racially derogatory or otherwise. Never. Its called diplomacy. Not because it's the law in most states, because it's the right thing to do.
Do the right thing. Remember that?
If your high five figure salary chef gig doesn't include you pouring au jus into a gravy boat when asked for it, go open your own restaurant. Oh that's right. You can't. Because industry workers are usually multi cultural. Can't have them Mexicans in your kitchen, eh?
There's a giant Confederate flag hanging in a country bar in Chatsworth, CA. It's there. If you don't like it, don't go there. My problem is when you bring your supremacy, white or otherwise, or when you bring your bitch ass drama to me in the work place, or my home. Don't bring your stupidity to me. I get enough of stupid just coming home from the grocery store.
I worked my ass off in a restuarant, four years, six to seven days a week, and I didn't miss a single day. Not one. I was never late. I always gave 100% usually more. I always worked over time when needed. And I had a second job with the same company catering when I wasn't working the restaurant. Some people understand the meaning of hard work. What I won't coddle to, what I refuse to submit to, are snotty entitled white bitches who can't handle their jobs. If two jobs is too much, quit one. It's just that easy. Common sense. But don't stay at both jobs and expect people to pick up your shifts, or work around your schedule depending on your energy level simply because you think being white makes you superior and everyone should just do your job for you. Fuck that. Fuck you. All that tells me is, you're either incredibly lazy or too stupid to know your limits. Be a big girl. Pull up your big girl panties and be an adult. I'm over snotty white bitches. Yeah, I'd divorce you too, bitch.
https://youtu.be/pt8VYOfr8To
Seriously networks, consider my television idea.
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