Ceeblebrities

Ohmygodohmyogdohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod

I served the velvet-voiced Mr. Ian Hanomansing last night, or as I will henceforth always refer to him, Dreamy McCbcnews. I think I drooled on his donair, and couldn't help but grin at him every time I passed his table, despite the fact that he was with his wife and kids. I hovered around their table busying myself with tidying tasks in order to eavesdrop on their conversations. He tipped well. If anyone is intersted on bidding on it, I have his beer glass, lip print intact, for sale on EBay.

tabernacle!

Dear friends,

So much love. As a result of overwhelming pressure, I've gotten off my What Not to Wear-watching ass (which I'm starting to think might be complimented by something in a houndstooth) and decided to continue giving you little e-pieces of my Diddy-loving heart. Take it!

Some people really know how to ruin your evening. I got sworn at a lot in French last night by a guy who didn't get the fries he hadn't asked for with his Italian Club Sandwich. Why was he mad, you might ask, if he didn't order them? Because they're pictured on the placemat, my friends. And what's on the placemat is truth with a capital T. I especially enjoyed the fact that we'd been speaking in broken Franglais (for my New Brunswick readership that's 'Chiac') the entire time and when he broke off into a stream of church-related obscenities really seemed to think he was being sneaky and that I wouldn't understand him. "Speak in English" urged his sympathetic looking lady friend. "It's fine," I assured her, "I'm still following along quite well," though he did manage a 'fuck' or two just in case. His friends hung their heads and furiously dug into their succulent Tuscan Chicken Salads. But for the rest of the meal the guy and all of his friends were sweet as a Brownie Skillet to me and tipped me heartily. So the question is, why? Why are people such raging lunatic assholes when it comes to dealing with service people (who, in this case, didn't even screw up! And believe me, I have screwed up, forgotten to place orders, placed orders wrong, dropped stuff, all of it. And I don't care enough to hide it when it happens, rather, in a somehwat adult like fashion I own up to it and apologize and give discounts. I don't need to lie about it.) I was working overtime to serve these people (we close at 10, said incident happened around 10:30) and didn't care because I was having a good time talking with them and laughing at my own pathetic attempt to speak french after a long hiatus, and suddenly this jerk has to spoil my good mood. The only logical conclusion I can come to is that Francaphones are evil and that they should all leave the country. Oh no wait, that was my hillbilly co-worker's opinion, not mine. I always get those two things mixed up. I wish I could remember if it was me who referred to an originally-from-India Mt. A professor as a Paki or someone else. Hmmm....

For more information, please see www.sackvillepizzadelight.com

I'd also like to point out that Diddy's summer menu features the exact green tones that characterize my blog - if that ain't a match made in heaven....

bling bling

Last night I made 70 bucks in tips.