Sunday, December 2, 2012

Where. Are. The. Puppies.

To keep busy, I joined Instagram. Actually, I joined it about a year and a half ago but have just recently started using it as it was intended....to post endless pictures of my dogs, food and random things I find funny that no one else does. It's better than Facebook in that all you can post are pictures; no political rants, no articles, no music videos (who knows....maybe you can do this-but I don't know how). Like most people, first thing I did was follow all my Facebook friends who are on Instagram. Second thing I did was search for accounts that I would find interesting, obviously I searched "puppies".  That's when I stumbled upon "puppiesinstagram". I started following @puppiesinstragram and oh, were there pictures of puppies. A puppy bulldog in reindeer ears, a long haired chiahuahau in a puffy vest at the beach, a golden retriever in a onesy and so on and so on. Each day at least 10 pictures of puppies, each one cuter than the next. But then @puppieinstragram posted a picture of a human. How dare he post a picture of human when I and the other 302,000 followers of the account want puppies. But shortly after there were 20 more puppy pictures posted and life was good again. A few days later, once again, another picture of a human. OK, this is where things started to get ugly because one thing I know for sure in this world is that if promise pictures of puppies and you don't deliver pictures of puppies, you will piss off about 302,000 people sitting around waiting to see pictures of puppies.

Herewith, are a few of the comments that followers left after the 2nd picture of a human (not a puppy) was posted. None of these are made up....Enjoy!

-Where. Are. The. Puppies.
-Those are NOT pups!!!!!! For the last time WE WANT TO SEE PUPS and pups ONLY!!!!!!!! How are you not getting that?!?!?!
-This isn't a puppy.
-Stop posting things other than puppies.
-No one wants to see this.
-Are you planning on posting things other than puppies? I would appreciate an answer.
-What is this shit?
-What does this crap have to do with puppies?
-WHERE THE HELL ARE THE PUPPIES.
-YOU F$%^ING SUCK.
-What kind of puppy is this???
-You stink without puppies.
-WTF
-What do we want? PUPPIES When do we want them? NOW

Oh, also forgot to mention that Instagram is great for intellectual stimulation.

PS. You can follow me on Instagram @gingerscone....and there will be pictures of dogs.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Turkey Bowl '99

Years ago before greed was disguised as "meeting the needs of our changing customer", if you worked in the restaurant business you had Thanksgiving off. It was a glorious day. A day when you wouldn't be yelled for being 5 minutes late on a reservation for 25 who wanted to sit by the window....no, not that window, the other window.  A day when you wouldn't be accused of ruining Thanksgiving by running out of stuffing (really, you fools are going to eat that much stuffing....who knew). A day when you could actually celebrate the holiday with friends and family and co-workers.....whaaaaaat, co-workers?

Listen up kids, as I tell a Thanksgiving story of peace, love, football, a man-pilgrim, the Washington Monument, revenge and violence. It was a beautiful Thanksgiving morning in Washington, DC in 1999. The leaves were turning, there was a chill in the air, and Turkey Bowl I was about to be played on the Mall. The teams gathered early, setting up hot chocolate and goodies. On one side was Not Buca's (Name has been changed to protect Maggiano's) Tyson's Corner, the more athletic, attractive team. On the other side was Not Buca's Chevy Chase, the evil empire. As the teams met up, pleasantries were exchanged. A crude outline of a field was set up, flags were put around each players waist and team captains met in the middle. The General Manager of each restaurant was the team captain. We were led by Michael (I'm not changing his name, he's a fame whore). Now on first inspection, Michael may not appear to be a dominate force in the game of football, he does however, look remarkably like a pilgrim. It's really uncanny and what we assumed would be an advantage. He's about 5'8, wears glasses and once asked me who my favorite American historical figure was. He was scrappy and competitive and well, we were good looking.

Now if you read this blog or have worked at either one of the "Not Buca's" then you know these 2 teams have a storied, troubled past in that there is an inexplicable disgust bordering on hatred and competitiveness between the 2 restaurants. Turkey Bowl started out friendly enough, a touch down here, a touch down there, a few laughs and guffaws and an overall fun start to a promising morning of football. However, the score was close. They would score, we would score, we would score, they would score. Jose the 50 year old stocker, who showed up only on the premise that this was soccer, stopped getting playing time. The better players stayed on the field longer. Then the first elbow came, I don't know who threw it or who received it but that was the game changer.

Suddenly, the flags were not merely pulled off, they were tackled off. People were tripped, shoved, kicked, eyes were poked, and wedgies were given. Girls were wishing they had worn cups. Guys were crying for their moms. No one was willing to give in or ease up. Then on a play that we knew we could score and put the game in the bag, things got ugly. The play was that Michael (man/pilgrim) would be given the ball and he would go left and cut back to the middle exposing a weakness in their defense. The ball was snapped and handed off to Michael, as he ran left the defense went with him and then he cut back to the middle with what appeared to be enough of an opening to go all the way down field. And then out of nowhere, framed in between the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument, came the Chevy Chase Sous Chef. Despite the buckles on his shoes, Man/Pilgrim was fast and wily. The chef did the only thing that would stop him, he stuck his arm out at about throat level and clotheslined him. I have never seen someone drop so hard and so fast. I have also never seen someone get up so fast and so comical. As he got up to scream he couldn't, what with the hit to the throat, but a rage filled high pitched feminine screech did come out and truthfully scared us all. Behind his glasses which at this point were only attached to one ear and hanging down the side of his face, his eyes were wild, wild like a rabid dog. His usually perfectly coiffed hair was all pushed forward, as if to give him Beetle like bangs. His shirt was pulled up somewhere just below his clavicle and if I'm not mistaken, due to the velocity of the hit, his pants were actually on backwards. And then the Man/Pilgrim/Beast lunged towards the chef.  That's when benches cleared, and the fighting, yelling and screaming began. After several minutes, cooler heads prevailed and the game was called and no winner was named. We spent the last half hour in silence as we finished our hot chocolate and cleaned up our trash, after all we weren't animals.

Happy Thanksgiving!

If you wait around long enough...you get the trophy.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Where In The World Is Matt Lauer?

Like most of you, I have been spending no less than 12 hours a day watching the Olympics. This Olympics seems to have it all, the ups, the downs, the excitement, the disappointment and Ryan Seacrest. Here are my favorite Olympic images thus far.

The Queen at the Opening Ceremonies
Make no mistake, this is one stone cold fox.

Ryan Lochte and His Grill
Ending speculation that all Americans are douchebags.

Kieran Brahan, Irish Gymnast
If you haven't read his story it's pretty amazing: Tumor in his leg, botched surgery to remove tumor resulting in permanent nerve damage, brain damaged from hitting the parallel bars, broken wrist, torn ACL-right, torn ACL-left,  cleaning the gym to pay for his training and so on and so on. This is one tough nut. In other news.......

Dream Team
Follow along as we chart this group's struggle to become Olympians.

Parade of Nations-Mexico
Ponchos!

Captian Kangaroo Bela Karolyi
The Captain is dominating the sport of gymnastics. 


Aly Raisman Being Interviewed with Jordyn Wieber Crying in the Background
Heartbreaking.

Ryan Seacrest
Why? Why? Why?

Where in the World is Matt Lauer?
NBC has taken a lot of criticism for their broadcasting of the Olympics and it all started at the Opening Ceremonies hosted by Lauer, Viera, and Costas. As always, Twitter seemed to have all the answers.......

Friday, July 27, 2012

Another Year Older


Last week I celebrated my birthday. I kicked off the festivities a few weeks early with a very thoughtful gift from optometrist, a pair of reading glasses or "readers" as they are known on the streets. At first I thought it was because I was getting older, but my eye doctor assured me that I was just maturing. I was still not convinced as walked to my car and I was feeling a little depressed. Was I getting old, I pondered as I sighed and slipped my hands into the pockets of my waist high Lee Jeans. As I exited the parking lot by turning on my right blinker and subsequently turned left, I was hoping the local news talk radio station would drown out my sorrows. Driving down Ventura Blvd at about 12 mph in the far left lane, I seemed to hit every red light. Well, they weren't really red nor were they yellow, but they had been green for a very long time and to be safe I just slowed down until they turned yellow. Stopping at all the lights did give me time to shake my head at the kids wearing skinny jeans with holes in them. I also found myself with time to glare at the driver next to me who had his rock music up very loud.

I was getting hungry so I stopped at the local deli. After switching tables 3 times, I was finally comfortable although my numerous request to have the air turned down seemed to go unnoticed. I took comfort as I looked around at all the patrons who were much older than me. I went ahead and ordered a cup of soup and a few lemons for my water. Service was poor, so my unhappiness was reflected in my 7% tip but for some encouragement I went ahead and left a little hand written note on the receipt. "Have a nice day" seemed to balance out my less than generous tip. After a few attempts to exit the parking lot, I was finally on my way home.

As I pulled up in the drive way, I collected my newspaper from the front lawn and decided I would get on the computer. After numerous attempts to get online, I finally made it! With the temperature outside at 98 degrees and my house set at 78 degrees and cup of hot tea, it was time to catch up with friends on Facebook. As I tried unsuccessfully to upload a photo and view a YouTube video and tag someone in a picture, I realized it was 6:30, time for the national news. After a supper of left-overs, I realized it had a been a long and mentally exhausting day and I was no closer to the answer to the question, "Am I getting old?". But the answer would have to wait for another day, it was 8pm and if I had any chance of getting up at 4:30am for no apparent reason, I better get to bed.

Did this happen to anyone else when they turned 36?