Wednesday, November 30, 2005

The Verbal Tipper

Hiding behind his warm and caring smile is the verbal tipper. He is a most gracious guest. Using 'please' and 'thank you' and 'certainly yes' to cover up his meagre wallet; don't be fooled, he is a sly diner. More often he can be heard exclaiming, over his second after-dinner drink, "this is the best service I've ever had!". All this verbal diarrhea is certainly followed by a pathetic tip. Unfortunately I have fallen prey to these venial tactics; and they don't pay the bills. So if any of the aforementioned sounds at all familiar (and it's not because you've served one before), then I suggest you stay home and compliment the cook who slaved over your own stove; even if that means patting your own back. My back is just fine. I do enough unpaid work changing dirty diapers and making homemade squash soup. I go to work to make if ya got none to offer, keep your mouth shut.

Sunday, November 27, 2005

Peeling Onions

Every Sunday I am blessed with the priveledge of peeling 50lbs of onions. Cut off each end, tear off skin, discard. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. It's all very mind-numbing. But today, in my zen-like state of peel, a strange thought arose. It started with the notion of the vegetarian not wanting to eat cute and fuzzy little animals. Unfolding from that (not too unlike stripping the first layers from my onions) was a memory of having once heard of people who don't eat anything that 'lives'. From what I could gather from my foggy, urban legend, back up files was that this included vegetables; And yes my dear onions. So as I sliced and sliced and peeled some more, I imagined that there had to be one psycho out there who actually thought my onions could feel pain. And for a moment I actually felt badly for the pungent little guys. Then I wondered if once the macheted layers had been peeled clean, was the pain gone? Such a rampant train of thought reminded me how much I hate peeling onions!!!