judging by the looks of you and yours, it's one of the following occasions: anniversary, birthday, first communion, confirmation, bar mitzvah, promotion, reunion, quality family time, or a parent didn't wanna cook. something too special for ruby tuesdays or chili's or old country buffet, but not special enough for a restaurant that actually knows what it's doing. this week. we're fraying round the edges round here. all week long, one thing after another and today's no exception. i feel i should be open and upfront about the various disappointments you have in store for you, should you decide to stay. wouldn't wanna ruin an 'occasion.'

first of all, this place is about to smell like shit. (i wish i could find a more ... delicate way to put it, but alas.) you see that guy over there? who apparently could only afford the front half of a haircut? well he and HIS family just ordered three plates of grilled calamari. now, i'll ignore the fact that that's a great big heaping shitpile of grilled calamari, way too much for a family of four. ignore that to confess we are having a teensy-weensy problem with our exhaust fan tonight. nothing major, only teensy-weensy. BUT every time we slap some calamari on the grill, this place gets stink-bombed a bit. now you may think you know how bad calamari smoke will smell. let me assure you, you do not know. you have no idea. but stick around. you will, you will.

a few of the desserts we say we have, we don't actually have. don't blame us. blame the dessert guy, cause he's the one who forgot. not us. just treat yourselves to pie or cookies. we got those in SPADES. oh, and the bread guy dropped off wheat instead of sourdough breadsticks, so if you came here for the sourdough breadsticks, mights well just turn around right now, save yourself some grief.

uh ... rudy's nephew keeps trying to deal coke, so you might see someone who looks just like rudy but is not rudy walking from the front door to the kitchen, followed by me giving him the gentle bums rush out. if he resists or anything like that, you might have a rhubarb or brouhaha in store.  

uh ... what else does full disclosure compel me to fully disclose. uh ... david and nando are in the kitchen tonight. usually that's a good thing but david's freaking out that one of his twenty-four girlfriends has a little something on the side. david's a possessive sort, prone to insane jealousy, so in between cell phone calls to that cheating wayward girlfriend and to his cousins asking if they're willing to kill for him, david doesn't have a whole lotta time to pay attention to your food, and nando's no mexican superman, so ... how do you feel about your steak well done or your pasta sticky and clumpy with too-oily sauce. you feel good?

then allow me to continue.

you see that light up ... yeah, you just noticed it, didn't you. that flickering bulb in the fixture up there. yeah. it's been doing that all night. it's the bulb, has to be, nothing else it can be but the bulb. i asked jason to toddle downstairs to get new one, but he said no. i reminded him that i do in fact happen to be his boss. he reminded me that lincoln freed the slaves. i pointed out that he's white and not living in the late eighteen hundreds. he pointed out that he's blacker than my white ass'll ever be and when the civil war was wasn't his point, his point was i'm being a dick. from there it just got petty and childish and not worth getting into here. so anyway, the light's gonna be flickering for at least another half hour, til things settle down and he can find a minute to ... 

(hey! someone's having PIZZA HUT delivered next door! boy i sure do hope it's some of that pizza hut PASTA or that pizza hut LASAGNA! you can get three pounds of it for only thirteen bucks! what a bargain!)

and i gotta put you in steve's section. sorry bout that. usually, i would only pre-apologize for alan, but tonight, shock of shocks, alan's not the weak link. that would be steve, who decided monday to switch from wellbutrin to lexapro (or vice versa, not that it matters, cause the end result is the same). all week, he's a bit ... upsy-downsy. he careens from looking doped to the gills to stammering cause he can't get the words out fast enough. you'll either get him unsteady before you, with a vacant, faraway look or him, feet and hands all twitchy, smiling and going "and, and, and, and, and, and, and, and, and, and, and, and, and" til you want him to go back to the doped cause at least with the doped he stands still and shuts the fuck up.

now, you ... yes, you ... uh-huh, you ... yes, you bring up a quite reasonable point. but i CAN'T send him home cause then it's only alan. that would NEVER work, we're too busy, and there's no way in HELL i'm waiting tables cause you think i'm grumpy now, wait'll you see me when you complain you left one of jimmy's fucking coupons at home but you still wanna use it. (also, i can't carry more than two plates at a time. it's my secret shame.) so, you're stuck with steve and his anti-depressant swings.

the other bad thing about it being so busy is you get the last free table and the reason it's the last free table is cause it's wobbly. you'll see just how wobbly if you decide to stay for a meal. we've tried to fix it. tried putting shit under it to brace it. little piece of wood, napkins, drink coasters. nothing worked. that thing's hell bent on wobbling. it shouldn't be TOO bad, long as you don't order soup and you tell rudy to not fill your water glasses all the way up. you should be fine, just annoyed, but in that, you won't be alone. far from it.

there's something else i'm ... hmm ... uh ... oh! right! stupid me how'd i forget! freezer burn has claimed a few victims since last night, and those victims are: chicken tenders, onion rings, mozzarella sticks, fish sticks, (in case your little ankle-biter there wants any of those), the grown up fish fry fish, vanilla ice cream and the twix bar i had back there but forgot about.

apparently, "the silverware is old-fashioned." this came courtesy of an anonymous comment card. this same commenter saw fit to inform me that "the center cut pork chops were tough," "the beer glass had lipstick on it," "none of our plates matched," (i'm assuming she meant tableware, not the food. and no, she's right, they don't match. so? so what. and i'm also assuming she's a she cause of her very feminine handwriting.) "the coffee was too strong," but her experience was improved slightly (i wouldn't go as far as to say leavened) by the selection of jazz music which she found "pleasant." she wrote "pleasant music" on the what did we do well line. jimmy was the one who insisted on the "what did we do well" line. so all afternoon he's been crowing bout our music selection. i'm about to remind him of the thing of damning with faint praise and ...

oh. yeah. that smell you're smelling's the grilled calamari. it'll go away, but not for another fifteen twenty minutes. see that lady right there with the napkin covering her nose and mouth? that sight is about to be a very common one. so, hey, if you can tough it out and you're still interested, if you're still in a 'food mood,' follow me right this way.

okay?

you sure? really? you really still wanna ...

okay. here we go, right this way ...

boy how bout that cold, huh. sure is cold out, huh.

okay. here you go. right here. see? see it wobble? it wobbles when you move it ... this way ... like this ... that way's fine. it's when you ... yeah ... this way.

oh, and i should also tell you that the specials list will tell you we're offering something called mhai-mhai. do me a favor and figure out all by yourself that it's sposed to be mahi-mahi. don't ask steve what the hell mhai-mhai is, cause he'll snap outta his pill-switching funk long enough to drag my dick in the dirt about it. everyone's really having a good old laugh at my expense tonight. like no one's ever made a MISTAKE before. swear to god. people round here spect me to perfect ...