Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Stuff yourself like a Cannoli at Joey and Eddy's

Stuff yourself like a Cannoli at Joey and Eddy’s Italian Restaurant

I’m sure you have heard of the “South Beach Diet”. While it may to improve your waistline, it’s not going to win you many friends. No one likes a picky eater. Groupon suggests to you, the “North Beach Diet”. Start by taking your rat pack to Joey and Eddy’s Italian restaurant in North Beach, San Francisco. Use your Groupon to pay for 66% of the meal (chicks dig that). Today’s deal of the day serves up a carb-o-licious cuisine filled with meat, pasta, cream sauces, and assorted paisano’s with a smile.

At Joey and Eddy’s you have the choice of ordering entrée’s or family style Italian meals. The family style meals feed 2-3 people if you are Italian American. If you are an average person who eats recommended serving sizes (whatsa matta you?) then Joey and Eddy’s family style entrée will feed 5-20 of you. At Joey and Eddy’s the full bar (7 days a week) provides enough booze to make even Dean Martin blush.

Might I suggest the spaghetti and meatballs? Joey has the best freakin’ dish of balls I have ever put in my mouth. At about $10 a plate you will have had too much to eat, and still have enough to carry home to your mamma.

The atmosphere of Joey and Eddy’s is much like Zuppa (another one of Joey’s creations across town). Mood lighting, wood burning oven, exposed kitchen, and very romantic for lunch or dinner. Joey and Eddy’s has beautiful views from picture windows of Washington Square Park (famous park which also neighbors tourist hot spot, St. Peter and Paul Cathedral). In a district that caters to unknowing tourists looking for cheap eats, most of the choices are silly Italian American themed bars and café’s. It’s refreshing to find one joint that still takes eating Italian food seriously.


Monday, January 4, 2010

The Secret Life of Golfing Bee's

I went golfing with my father - we golfed with an old man who was retired. My father met him in the golf store while setting up our tee time and insisted he play golf with us. Old, salty, ex - Marine..."EARL" was his name....

I pray to GOD when my father and I golf, that we do not have to golf with other people. Or, we are not ahead of *any* golfers so that I won't expose my slow, clumsy approach to the game with any one else with eyes. Really, if I could golf with all blind people *this* would be ideal, but until the Helen Keller Foundation supports this sort of a course, I'm screwed....

We approached the 6th hole, EARL has teed off and is now walking a few yards ahead of my father and I. I am now engaged in a very critical conversation with my father about 'how golf balls could be prettier', and how 'I need cuter golf shoes' if he wants me to play more golf with him.

I am crouch over my ball concentrating, I feel a light tap on my butt cheek. This startles me a bit, as I think it is my father. I stand straight up and look at him like "WTF"? In return, he looks at ME like "WTF"? "You ok"? he says. I feel silly because he is standing about 8 feet away from me so I couldn't have possibly been him.

I set up again, no sooner do I bend over when I feel a tapping on my butt cheek. I jolt up and spin around to look at my dad. With wide eyes I say, "this may sound weird but are you poking me?" My dad with concern says, "No!, are you ok?"

Without answering, I set up my ball again and feel a tap on my butt again. I put my hand back on my butt cheek and feel the fluttering of wings against my skin. My heart drops into my stomach and my face flushes with heat as I realize what is in my pants !

NOW A BURNING SENSATION ON MY BUTT CHEEK. I put my hand down my pants and grab my butt cheek!! the BURNING gets more intense and I start to feel BURNING in more areas of my butt cheek.

I FLIP OUT !!! I start screaming "OH GOD- OH GOD- OH GOD !!! DAD DAD !! I think, I think, I think there is a WASP IN MY PANTS- WASP IN MY PANTS- OH GOD F&*%@ F*&^%$ OH GOD DAD DAD HELP HELP. My poor dad, has *no idea* what to do...he is shocked.

As if this wasn't attracting enough attention I am now swating my ass and jumping up and down. I could NOT get that F'ing wasp out of my pants ! Out of desperation I lose all sense of public humility and I pull the drawstring on my pants to rip them off in the middle of the green. My dad and I are now both smacking my legs and my butt. I start to cry as the wasp flies out of my pants. My father grabs me to hold me close to him, I am still so so freaked out, I'm shaking, my ass hurts, I am sobbing harder with each breath.

There we stood, my father and I in the middle of the green for about 30 seconds before I realized that 1-my pants are still off, and I am hugging my father 2- I have no underware on 3- I am freshly waxed 4- The senior discount crowd watching us from every green around us is not even pretending to look away at this point, they are statue like.

I quickly pulled my pants back up. I wiped my tear stained face. Poor EARL was trying all he could do to not face us and look the other way, pretending to concentrate on his golf game. I gathered my golf bag, my pride, and my father. We took a long walk across the green to meet EARL once again.

We were all quiet. My breathing had gotten better, the air was still, and the birds had begun to chirp once again. No one said a word for a few minutes.

I rubbed my butt cheek as EARL sized up his putt, my dad looked on at his golf clubs, I stood waiting for someone to say something. Anything. No one was speaking, it is was uncomfortable, I wanted to just die. Then EARL, in a Nonchalant tone says, “I didn’t know we were playing strip golf?”

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Diaper Genie

While attending a NYE party I had the experience of almost taking a nose dive down a flight of stairs. While in mid heart attack, gripping on the railing as I caught myself, I had the flashback of a baby shower I had attended a few years ago in the East Bay.

I had been invited to a baby shower along with 12 co-workers I had only known a week. My new job was very conservative and therefore required its employee's to have a large stick inserted up their ass the minute they were hired. I agreed to have the 'stick inserted', but only if I was allowed to promptly remove it at 5pm everyday for a good scrubbing. This was permitted but ONLY for me, and I was hired.

Part of our obligation as office employee's (only the white people for some reason) is to do a lot of sucking up. Sucking up so much that my mouth (between the hours of 9am and 5pm) actually formed into a round circle from the pucker on 12 (afore mentioned) co-workers asses (maneuvering around the stick of course). So, as you can see, I was obligated to go to this horrid event. I just KNEW what was going to happen with this crowd before I showed up...and it did. The minute I mentioned that I lived in San Francisco the whole room fell silent. The look of horror covered most of these women's face's.

One woman exclaimed, "Why would you live there? Its soooo dirty, with her hand to her chest as if she was protecting herself from me". (ya, IM the one with cooties, your husband was at the dive bar last week feeling up a cocktail waitress-she'll do anything for a tip). The next woman agrees and says, " I used to work there but I left that job because the traffic was just awful all the time AND finding parking was so terrible, how do you do it?". (it's called a taxi, dill hole, google it) And finally the third comment I always get (from the hostess "pregger's extraordinaire") says, "oh its so dangerous there, be careful!"

This is when I have an Ali McBeal moment where I envision she must think that I run down Mission Street with Scissors, half naked, and smoking a crack pipe on Sundays....I think to myself "be careful?, Be Careful, BE CAREFUL ?!?!? Excuse me 'shake and bake' you just slammed fertility drugs for months until they finally took. NOW you are allowing 3 fetus's - all at the same time - to suck your life force, make you a hormonal monster, eat 3/4 of everything you consume, and give you hemorrhoids for 9 months, while your sex starved husband is under investigation for sexual harassment (it was a misunderstanding, now our receptionist drives a 2009 Hyundai Santa Fe) !!!! and you want ME TO BE CAREFUL !!??"

I smile and say through a clenched jaw, " oh don't worry, I am".

I bit nervous, I will admit 1- I overdressed for the occasion, wearing a dress too low cut, and boots (too heel-y and definitely too leathery) 2-had one glass of white too many (chardonnay of course, the mascot wine of soccer moms who married when they were 18-21 everywhere !) 3-and finally had a dazed plastic smile on my face way too forced, while pretending to care about baby shower diva's Ann Geddes baby photo's hung in the 'baby room to-be'. My cheeks had cramps in them for weeks after...

I joined a group of three women taking a tour of the house because I was so freakin' uncomfortable I figured if I was walking from room to room out of eye view no one would notice I had poured a third glass of chardonnay. All three women began to descend down the stairs as the tour was coming to an end (1 more hour, 1 more hour, I can do this for 1 more hour). I let the other three women go ahead of me, hoping this would buy me 2 more minutes before I had to go downstairs and meet back up with this group of women who were all sitting in a half circle at the bottom of the stairs waiting for us so the baby shower games could begin.

I take my first step down the carpeted stairs noticing that the stairs are slick from the newly cleaned carpeting and that the stairs were Freakishly short compared to my very large feet. I thought, no problem I'll just put more body weight on my heels to make it down safely. 14 stairs to go....no sooner than I thought this I took my next step and my heel slipped off the edge of the next step.

I don't have to explain to you how much noise it makes when a 160 lb Italian woman eats shit down 14 stairs in a house that was thrown up in 10 days using plywood, superglue, and some Astro-Turf carpet that has just been "cleaned" with a Sham-wow.

I flew down those freakin stairs like an elephant on a superslide. My ass (stick had been ejected on collision with second stair) thumped down each stair like a firecracker. I assumed that using the baby shower guest immediately in front of me as a floation devise would stop my fall, but no, she was no match for me and she ended up a casualty (well more of a Toboggan) and ended up underneath me during my final skid into the half circle of terrified woman.

I was stunned, the room was silent. You know when you are humiliated and the fact that you are so humiliated superseeds any pain you may have been in?? I stood up, carpet rash on my face, skid marks on my knee's (and in my undies too I'm sure), knowing that the entire baby shower had seen my green g-string underwear which CLEARLY did not match what I was wearing (yes these are the things that go through women's minds). There was no laughter, no comforting, no "are you ok?"...just silence... Just one woman who said, "you really need to be careful".

Friday, May 15, 2009

If Kathy Lee Gifford Owned Best Buy

Do you ever go to the "geek squad" at Best Buy to get your shit fixed? Probably not, you probably don't ...because unlike me....*your* shit, I'm SURE, actually works correctly.
Well, I have this curse you see...MY SHIT never works. No matter how much money I have spent, or what 'top of the line' bull shit I have been suckered into buying, my shit *never* works right. So I spend alot of time in line at Best Buy waiting for Geek Squad to help me.

This morning at 11am I hurried to spend 25 minutes standing in line behind ONE person to get my shit fixed. Meanwhile there were three men behind me (who's shit didn't work either). One little foreign boy behind the counter to 1- help customer 2- answer phone 3- receive shipments at the back door 4-PR for all of Geek Squad and Best Buys National Corporation...

25 Mother F*king minutes in line behind ONE single person who was just standing at the counter in front of 'one said, thai boy' having what appeared to be a staring contest to the death. Pissed off customer vs. Himalayan Whistle Kid . Dead Silence. I heard a faint whistle in the background as if a shoot out at sun down from the 'Good. the Bad. and the Asian.' It was so uncomfortable you could cut the tension with my g-string that was riding up while I waited.

Finally after what felt like forever, angry customer #2 behind me yells out "HEY, HERE'S A SUGGESTION, FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO HELP CUSTOMERS WHILE YOU ARE STANDING THERE DOING NOTHING" !

I could feel my face turn bright red, it was unbearable. It was a mixture of wanting to laugh out loud, and wanting to strangle who ever left this kid here by himself to help the entire store.

Remembering my first job when I was 14 at the juice bar in the mall ( I almost shit myself when the register door shut before I could give my customer change... and stood there frozen like a deer in headlights while he flipped his shit on me because I couldn't give him .75 cents back until my manager was summoned from the other side of the mall, God forbid we rip her fat ass away from throwing herself at the manager of Sabarro's for free cheese pizza and a diet coke). At that age I didn't have the stealth like animal instincts it requires to help angry men who's 'shit doesn't work', and this boy didn't either. I had a soft spot for the poor kid.

Now that I am MUCH older and angrier, I DARE some company to put me ALONE behind the counter of any retail store and take the kind of shit from customers that retail requires. "oh you want to return this broken, piece of shit computer because your shit doesn't work? Well, let me help you by sticking the hard drive up your ass and see if the connection is better?!"

I didn't start out angry, I used to be a very pleasant person. But I have worked retail from the age of 14 to the age of 20 and I had to take alot of crap from people. I was the one left behind the counter by myself to get yelled at by angry customer #2. I was the one who got stared down at the counter with everybody watching so that I could protect the "PRODUCT POLICY" of the company (for $7 an hour I might add), and yes I was the one who was completely at a loss when the printer didn't work, register wouldn't open, credit card was declined, caught the man whacking off at the panty wall in Clothestime ! SO DON'T JUDGE ME !!!

Hey Best Buy here's a better suggestion, hire some other sweat shop workers to help this kid behind the counter. Let's wrap this up Kathy Lee Gifford Style !!!

Shit if Kathy Lee Gifford owned Best Buy she would have imported like 20 other Honduras workers to help everybody in that store AND make clothes for everyone using the Kathie Lee line. After we were ALL happy and our SHIT FINALLY WORKED, not to mention I had a new Wal-Mart wardrobe, and Best Buy was only out like $4.23 for labor costs, she would tearfully deny knowing about the whole thing.

Hey I'm not saying its right. I'm just saying, I want my shit to work!

Monday, April 13, 2009

Why I don't 'do' FasTrak

So several of you are telling me to do FasTrak. I want to take this time to explain to you that I DID do FasTrak for three years....Please stay tuned for a new blog that explains WHY I DON'T DO FASTAK any longer.....It is a long story. But don't you worry it still ends with alot of swearing, sticking it to the man, and me burning rubber out of the toll booth !!!!!!!!

Sunday, April 12, 2009

U Stank !!!

Another Toll Booth Troll Story for you.
About two weeks ago, Rachel #2 gave me a frozen 'garlic chicken pizza' to take to work with me.

At lunch time I took it out of the cardboard and it smelled SOOO strong of garlic that I could actually smell it through the celephane wrap AND from about a foot away....so I decide NOT to eat this at lunch, because it would have killed my future clients...I starve myself ALL day and decide to heat up this pizza and finally eat it while driving back home to SF.

I devour the pizza in my car and approach the toll booth on the Bay Bridge.

I roll my window down, and stick my $5 bill out to the women who is taking money. I say, "Can I have a receipt please". She winces as if she is in extraordinary pain and YELLS!!! "WHHHHHEEEEWWWW!".

I don't say a word, I am not sure if she is have a convulsion or a coming to Jesus, or epilepsy or something.

I stare at her....she reaches with her three inch fingernails for my money. She is careful to ONLY let the tips of her fingernails touch the corner of my bill, and she rips it as fast as she can out of my hand while YELLING AGAIN, " WWWWHHHHHHHHHHEEEEWWWWWWW" !!!!!!!!

I am catching on now that she has a problem with the garlic smell coming from my car.

I still sit there speechless and wait for my reciept.....

She proceeds to yell as loud as she can...

"stank" "Stank" "STANK" " SSSSTTTAAAANNNKKK" !!!!!!!!!!! as she throws my dollar bill back at me.

COME ON LADY !!!! Yes I get that I smell like garlic...but it's not like I smelled like SHIT or B.O. or a myriad of other offensive odors....I mean....

how Fing RUDE are you???? Did I pull up and yell "EWWWW" "FRIED CHICKEN!!" " EWWW" "EWWW"...no, I didn't ..you wanna know why?????....It's called curtousy you Gery curl wearing, Lee Press On Nail having, Loud Mouth, Evening at the Apolo, Dramatic, Screaming to Jesus......Byoch !!!!!!!!!!!

Oh I said it...and you know why?? I said it because no matter how bad someone smells...its called common courtesy. I have NO IDEA what Toll Booth Trolls have to do in order to get their jobs, but CUSTOMER service is NOT involved in the training process. I have done my share of retail, sales AND customer service and I would have been FIRED on the spot if I treated people the way these TOLL BOOTH TROLLS treat me. Am I the only one?

Friday, April 10, 2009

Giving Toll is Taking its Toll.....

Toll collectors on the Bay Bridge make me *so* mad. Instead of going POSTAL I am going to go TOLL-STAL !!

It seems like a simple transaction. I give you money and ask for a receipt "please". You, being a toll person, take my money and give me a receipt. So why do I have a confrontation almost EVERY time I go over the bay bridge to get back home?

I want to say that I NEVER have had a problem on the Golden Gate Bridge. This therapy session is for the Bay Bridge Toll Takers alone !! They are awful, mean, and spiteful trolls! I have had a myriad of strange and weird transactions at the Bay Bridge Toll Booths.

Sometimes the toll people don't look at me, speak to me, or even acknowledge that I exist when they take my money and give me change...and believe me I have LEARNED to appreciate these people for ignoring me. Thank you for your robotic disinterest.

Most of the time these Toll Trolls have a WHOLE life going on other than their job. They are listening to the radio, singing and dancing, watching a small TV, talking on their cell phone. Doing EVERYTHING in addition to taking toll money. Washing their hair, Betting on horses, Hiring Strippers, among other extracurricular activities. My last experience was with the short, Asian, Dyk-ish woman who talks on her cell. She was so distacted with her personal life that after I gave her a $10, asked for a reciept "please", she handed me back $1 and a receipt. I paused to tell her that I had given her a $10, not a $5 and she PUT HER FINGER UP because I was interrupting her conversation !!!!!!!!! SHUT UP !!! You can't be serious??!! IM interrupting YOU? No U Di'nt !!! and THEN, no and THEN, she argues with me that I gave her a $5 and not a $10 !!! After banter back and forth twice she ripped out a five and shoved it at me.

This is only ONE story of several that I have about Toll Booth Trolls, I am happy to tell you more, but I would like to know YOUR experience with Toll Both Trolls.....