Pictures!

I finally put some pictures from Block Island up. Hope you enjoy!



This is the view from Sara's yard looking out on town.



Sara's house from the yard




Bird Banding






Me, Baggy, and Sara




Natalie, Monique, and me



Timmy, Baggy, and me



Timmy and Sara

Random

1. I woke up last night at 4:30 in the morning with blood all over my face, shirt, pillow case, and sheets. My nose ring was also missing. I guess it punched through my nose in my sleep and, because I was drunker than Billy Joel on St Patrick's Day earlier that evening, I never felt a thing. It was pretty gross.

2. I like to drive around drinking Stewart's Root Beer-- ya know, the one in the brown bottles. It really psyches people out.

3. The amount of foreign people in my life right now is absurd. I live with an Italian (Sandro, Fiona's fiance), and I work with Guatemalans, Poles, and Ukrainians. On top of this, my friend Natalie is fluent in German. By the end of the summer I should know a pretty large amount of foreign phrases, probably all of them vulgar and/or inappropriate.

4. Today, after Sandro used the bathroom, Fiona exclaimed "God, it smells in there!" to which Sandro replied in his thick Italian accent "I make poop not flowers!" needless to say, I was laughing like a 6 year old boy for hours.

5. Our cleaning lady is a bitch.

6. Have you ever accidentally said something a lot louder than you intended to? Yesterday someone asked me for some napkins and I practically screamed "SURE, NO PROBLEM!" I'm pretty sure my sudden enthusiasm terrified them.

7. The girls dominated in our Battle of the Sexes flip cup tournament. After a week of Nick and Timmy driving by my work screaming "you're going DOWN!", we finally put them in their place.

8. Is it wrong to assume when someone asks you about the area's nightlife that they want to get wasted? Yeah, I didn't think so either.

9. I think when every female hits the age of 20, they immediately start watching Oprah. Either its an inherent change or Oprah is putting something in the water. God knows she's rich enough.

10. I really enjoy The Pussycat Dolls. There, I said it.

How Quick Things Change

Its funny how quick things can change in the restaurant business. Sunday we were slammed all day: the porch was full from about 10 until 4, a waitlist was in effect for a large portion of the day, and I along with the rest of the front of the house was running around like a mad woman trying to get these people sat and fed. By the end of the day, I had collected around $75 in tip-outs in addition to my regular salary. Natalie, a friend of mine and waitress at the grill, tipped me out $21 dollars alone, meaning she made over $200 throughout the day. Everyone was exhausted but at the same time thrilled to have so much money in their pockets.

Yesterday and today, however, has been another story. To give you perspective of how slow it was, yesterday I made and filled out an entire calender for the summer while today I nearly finished reading the complete “bartender’s dictionary” as well as several magazines and a newspaper, even completing the crossword puzzles in each. I don’t know how much I was tipped out today, but yesterday I walked out with about $15-20. Clearly not my best day and I’m not expected much better for today.

The bright side is that I have at least started cleaning houses for one of my fellow Harbor Grillers. Its grueling work but the pay is good-- $16 an hour with a dollar raise every few weeks and a $20 bonus for every Saturday I work. Plus, I get to see some spectacular houses and get a little exercise while I’m at it. And tomorrow I may be doing a window job which means I’ll spend the majority of the day in the sun soaking up some rays.

The only problem is that, now that I’m making some money, I’m extremely tempted to go spend it on everything I see. Block Island has some great clothing stores and, although I need some more clothes for hostessing, the amount I’d actually like to buy is way out of my price range. And to make matters worse, I finally went back to the bagel shop which I know will cause major temptation to buy breakfast there every morning ( they have un-godly delicious bran muffins). On top of this, birthday celebrations, friends’ concerts, and sheer-drunkeness have led me to some how “misplace” a lot of money at the bar. Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you look at it, I will soon be way too busy at work and tired from it to go out as much and maybe, just maybe, the $8 mudslides I’ve been consuming so much of will start to lose their appeal...hmmm, something makes me doubt that but, hey, a girl can dream.

How to Eat Out

There are tons of articles and books out there about proper dining etiquette– which fork to use with what course, what wine goes with what entre, reminders to keep elbows off the table and chew with your mouth closed– but there seems to be an immense lack of knowledge amongst the general public about dining out. Everyday, I am consistently shocked and annoyed by the behavior and requests of the patrons at the grill. To be fair, part of that comes with the job. Restaurant staff tend to get bitter and quickly irritated by their customers even when their requests aren’t that absurd. However, other things are just inexcusable. For all of you out there who ever plan on eating out again, I strongly urge you to heed my advice.


As a hostess, I obviously bare a lot of grievances in regards to seating. Upon approaching Harbor Grill, there is a clear sign displayed on the hostess stand reading “Please wait for maitre d to seat you”. However, despite this, numerous customers have walked right past it and sat themselves, usually when I am not at the stand and therefore never become aware of their presence. Even worse, they then become irritated when they do not immediately receive menus or are met by their server. Others recognize my presence, but approach me and immediately point out a table informing me that they will take that seat and rendering me completely useless. Lets think about this, people: If you were supposed to choose your own seat, why would they hire a hostess? Do you really think my job is to merely stand there, wait for you to choose a table, and then escort you the 10-20 feet to it, handing you a menu as you seat. I think not.

Believe it or not, there is actually a valid purpose to having a hostess. By assigning patrons to a table, she is able to maintain a rotation of servers, who are each given their own section in the restaurant, so that no one waitress is over seated and therefore does not become overwhelmed. Please, please remember this next time you eat because there is nothing I hate more than the self-seating customer, the picky customer, and especially the indecisive customer- the one who asks to change tables after they’ve initially been waited on, leaving me to hunt down their waitress and inform them they know have a table on the complete opposite side from their section.

Now that you are seated, there are still some general guidelines that should be obeyed. For starters, do not ask a server other than your own for the check, another drink, or an extra order of onion rings. You are not their responsibility and, for your own sake, there is often little they can do to help you. Even if they are willing to take time for people they will receive no gratuity from, they are incapable of placing orders for a table that is not their own: the computers won’t allow it. If all you need is some extra napkins or a little more salt, and your server ir truly MIA, ask the hostess if she is not too busy. Most keep these odds and ends in their stand or, if not, are willing to run back to the wait-station to grab what you need.

Furthermore, I am continually amused by customers who berate their server for the quality of the food. Food is cold? Probably the server’s mistake. Missing a side of fries? Yeah, they probably screwed up. But if the balsamic’s too strong, or the fish doesn’t seem quite fresh, this is hardly the waiter’s fault. Though great at carrying a heavy tray, I know no servers who buy, prepare, and cook the food they serve. If your food is really inedible of course you can explain the problem to the waitress. After all it’s not like you can walk into the kitchen and explain your problem to Chef Bob, though I’ve seen people try. But if you do, try and voice your dissatisfaction nicely, keeping in mind that the server isn’t responsible for your gripe. Just as you wouldn’t yell at your mailman when you receive a pricey bill in the mail, don’t blame the waitress for your burnt toast.

Yet, though you have the right to return your food when it is truly unsatisfactory, don’t think this means you can send back every little thing you dislike. Eating out is about taking risks. Sometimes, you’ll find out that you don’t like their recipe for clam chowder or that you didn’t realize just how strong curried food is: these are not valid complaints. You took a chance and lost. Suck it up, learn from your mistake, move on. Trust me, a crab cake that’s smaller than you expected is not the end of the world. Order another, ask for a bowl of soup, get desert. Just don’t send it back, because I’ll tell you now, when you do, we’ll all be in the back making fun of your sweater and ugly haircut.


However, if you choose to be an asshole and send back that veggie burger (what?! It’s not a homemade patty? Inexcusable!), make sure you haven’t consumed more than three bites of that meal. Last week, we had a customer who had actually returned a fully eaten meal. The Lobster Roll they had ordered was gobbled up, only a few scraps of pink meat remaining. Yet, when I came to bus their table, the man sitting their asked me not to take the essentially empty plate, claiming he wanted to discuss it with his waitress. As Sara T approached the table, I heard the man explain how his poor wife was really unsatisfied with the meal, how the meat just didn’t seem fresh, how he didn’t believe they should have to pay for the plate. Sara looked at him bewildered, slowly asking why, if the food was so poor, his wife was able to consume the entire thing. “Well,” he went on. “She was really hungry, so she forced it down.” Look, its not our fault your wife’s a malcontent pig. Although, in the end, the SOB didn’t have to pay for the roll and even got an apology from the manager. However, I can’t repeat the comments made about him by the staff afterwards. Children may be reading this.

In the end, however, it all comes down to the tip. Behave however you want- you can even slap the waitress in the face if you so desire- as long as you leave a decent tip. Decent meaning no less than 20%. Im surprised how many people are still under the impression that 16% is standard. No more, Grandma. Twenty percent is no longer gracious, it's expected. If your waitress was particularly good, the meal spectacular, throw on a few more bucks. If you ordered numerous glasses of coke, another basket of bread, a burger w/out the bun, cheese on the side, and olives instead of pickles, bump that tip up a notch. I’ve looked at tips that, had the person just added one or two more dollars, they would have made their server’s day. Waitressing is a hectic job, one many don’t understand until they’ve done it themselves, so try and keep in mind how hard your server is working for you. Otherwise, be prepared to be known as Fatty McCheepypants every time you return.

Thirsty Thursdays

Since I was working the PM shift yesterday, I was blessed with another miserable day off. Luckily, Sara was off too though so I had someone to keep me company, and we headed off into town to take care of some business– checking out the rates at the gym, going to Froozies to pick up Sara’s paycheck and order me some organic decaf (its awesome), put some clothes I can’t afford on hold, hit up the library for a library card, and finally stop by the grocery store to get some flour for muffin making and a bottle of Baileys. As soon as the weather drops below 60, Sara and I immediately crave Bailey’s and coffee- it’s a good thing we’re so on the same page. But this time, as we were picking up our Baileys, Sara and I were immediately intrigued by a bottle of white chocolate liqueur they had, and of course had to buy that as well.

When we finally got home, Sara and I began a rowdy game of Boggle (yes, we’re old ladies) and tried our new goodies. Drinks like Baileys are definitely going to be what turn me into an alchey, because I could and would drink them any time of day, all day, as Sara and I proved by cracking open our bottle at 12:30 in the afternoon. Believe it or not, though, it was pretty quite around here despite our hardcore game of Boggle. That is until we heard some random screaming from outside. Sara’s house is in the middle of a nature trail, so its not uncommon for people to wander by, but this noise was definitely more raucous than usual. We peeked out the front door, trying to get a glimpse of who was there, and saw four shady guys standing up on the hill smoking cigarettes, drinking beers, and peering down at us yelling. Who else was it but our local degenerates Timmy, Nick, Billy, and their friend Justin. Apparently, on their day off they had decided to drink beers and roam The Maze and happened to stumble upon Sara’s house. So they came in and joined us and of course made fun of us for sitting around playing Boggle, which is understandable of Billy and Justin, but considering Timmy and Nick are both in their mid thirties spending their Thursday afternoon drinking Bud Light in the woods, I really think they should watch what they say.

As is likely to happen when Timmy and Nick show up somewhere, the drinking was turned up a notch, and we soon found ourselves in the garage playing beer pong. And of course when I say “we” I really mean “they” because I had to go into my lame-o job in just a few hours. But I sat out with them, still indulging in my white chocolate liqueur watching the old men ardently trying to learn to play beer pong. Tim and Nick are both so old that they had never played before, instead playing a similar version where they actually use paddles and try to knock the ball in to one lone cup. Surprisingly, they picked up on the many rules quickly, which Sara was playing like the sorority Nazi she is, and even turned out to be pretty good. Not that they won a single game anyways, but a valiant effort all the same.

Cursing my life, I had to go take a shower for work soon into their little tourney, and when I returned downstairs they were all heading to the Albion to shoot pool and bother our friend Rick who bartends there. As I expected, two hours later I was sitting in an empty restaurant with absolutely no reason for me to be there. Gigi and Jess were at their laptop looking through Myspace, the cooks were in the back playing Scrabble, and I was reading the current issue of Cosmo for the 15th time. The place wasn’t just dead, it was non-existent. So and hour later, Erin thankfully cut me and I headed home for a quick nap. Just as I woke up though, Sara, Tim, Nick and Justin had returned, and it was my turn to finally play a few rounds of pong. As usual, I started out pretty poorly, but luckily Nick was drunk enough to repeatedly knock over his own cups, making our inevitable domination even more likely. Although, his constant farting did almost cause us to lose our concentration, if not pass out entirely from intoxication.

The rest of the night was fairly tame. We headed over to the Albion to see Rick’s band, The 007s, play their weekly gig. As usual, tons of people were there and the band kicked serious ass. Unfortunately, though, they still haven’t learned to play My Heart Will Go On, as I requested last time, so Sara and I will be paying a trip to all their houses to offer them a copy of her Titanic Soundtrack--Yes, Sara does have her Titanic Soundtrack with her– so they can hopefully learn it by next week or so. We definitely have other people on our side pushing for it, so I think we have a good chance of hearing it within the next few weeks, despite Rick’s extreme resistance.

Unfortunately, though, I must now head to work. I’m guessing we have 10 tables today tops. Magazines just aren’t gonna be enough to keep me occupied anymore. I just might have to switch to Bailey’s!!

Rain and the Ukraine

After four extremely boring days at work I finally have the day off. And its raining-pouring, actually. So much for a day of tanning at the beach.

Regardless of the weather, I'm still relieved to have the day off. The last few days have been hellish at work. Because its still so early in the season, and the weather is less than stellar, nobody has been coming in to the restaurant. I spend most of my days absently staring out at the street hoping somebody will come in to eat.
My only entertainment has been the training of our two new Ukrainian waitresses, Inna and Riana. Their English is not so hot and they aren't exactly familiar with American custom and cuisine so their waitressing skills aren't so good. Its difficult to serve breakfast when you don't know what toast is.

Not only does their behavior cause these girls to stand out, but their clothing is a dead giveaway that they aren't American. It in fact screams "Eastern Euro". Inna came in yesterday with pointy reptile skin boots, Riana had very tight shiny pants on, and both were rocking the scrunchies- velvet, rhinestoned scrunchies. I keep thinking about the scene from Euro Trip where the eastern German man is so excited that they just started getting Miami Vice on TV there. Its exactly like these girls.

Well, since the beach is obviously out of the question today, I'm going to take care of some chores that need to be done. My friends Gigi and Morgan might be coming over for dinner so I need to do some hardcore grocery shopping for the feast we have planned. Then its laundry, cleaning, maybe a trip to the dump. It's a busy little Wednesday I have planned, a nice break from drooling at the hostess stand at the Horror Grill. Maybe if I have time though I'll give Inna and Riana a call. We could listen to some David Hasselhoff records, paint some eggs, you know all that stuff Ukrainians love. Ahhh, God bless Europeans- and stereotypes.

I'm a Sellout

So I sold out and put ads on my blog. I'm sorry but I'm very poor, and Madrid this fall will be very expensive. I don't know how much I'll make but let's hope its enough for atleast a few nights out.

So, although I'm not supposed to encourage people to recklessly click on ads or offer them incentives to do so, I do ask that you give them a click every once and awhile so I can earn some dough. Money for Jane means a happy Jane. And a happy Jane will inevitably be nicer to you. Everyone wins. So PLEASE help the cause.

My Last Few Days

Well, although Monday was still very busy, things were a lot better than they had been Sunday. I was able to keep the influx of people under control and the chaos to a minimum. Again, there were only three waitresses on which really seemed to be the problem. Unfortunately, when the place gets really busy I think people tend to blame me; I don’t lore the people into the place, I just seat them when they come. And, unfortunately, people tend to come in packs, making things extremely hectic. It was a long arduous day but considering I made $75 on tip-outs I can't complain. Plus, when Gigi came in to eat, she really pissed off the kitchen staff by sending her bacon back to be cooked more. Screams of “what a bitch” could be heard throughout the kitchen. It was really nice to hear after the attitude she had given me the day before.

Tuesday, on the other hand, was much more calm. With the Memorial Day crowd gone and the summer vacationers not out yet, there wasn't many people on the island- just how I like it. Erin, my boss, wasn't in either so the day was even more relaxed. It was only me, Gigi, and Sara M on, and by 1 o'clock we cut Sara so she could get some rest before her night shift. Gigi and I spent the entire day dicking around with Morgan and Billy, who were working the kitchen, and Gigi's two friends who came in for lunch and drinks. Luckily, Gigi’s stick seemed to have been dislodged from her ass, so things were much more pleasant between the two of us. I didn't make much money but it was well worth it for the amount of fun I had.

Gigi's friends Justin and Mark, who came in at 12, ended up getting wicked cocked, as they would say here in Rhode Island. They had three Long Island Ice Teas, 3 tequila sunrises, 2 mimosas, and, thanks to encouragement from me, a Jaeger Bomb. We don't have Redbull at the Grill, but because I wanted to see them do one so bad, I offered to run down the block and get them one. Well two hours later, these boys were off their ass: Mark was talking way too loud for comfort, Justin could barely walk, and I was extremely happy Erin wasn’t in to witness the disaster.

That night, after painfully watching these boys drinks the day away, I was ready to go out and have a good time as well. Billy and I decided during the day that we should all go to Trader’s, a bar located on the docks of New Harbor, for their famous mudslides. That evening, Sara and I made cocktails and walked the trails before having dinner and swinging through town to pick up my friend Ingrid. We then drove over to New Harbor to meet up with the rest of the Harbor crew.

Although a good crowd from Harbor Grill came out, the rest of the place was deserted. At first we weren’t even sure if they were open since not a single person was in sight. We quickly filled up the little downstairs bar, however, and made the lonely bartender happy with our long, elaborate orders. After grabbing our mudslides, which were even tastier than I had remembered, we went up stairs to sit outside on the roof deck.

We stayed there and chilled for awhile but my friend George was soon itching to head over to club Soda for Kareoke Night. Mostly everyone else went to Nick’s but Sara, George, and I hit up Soda so he could sing his little heart out. He desperately tied to get me to join him, but as anyone who’s heard me before knows, I am a terrible singer, so I declined for the comfort and sanity of the other patrons. He swears he’ll get me on stage before the summer’s over, but unless several shots proceed that, I highly doubt it will happen. I’m trying to keep what little bit of pride I have left in tact.

This weekend Kelly, Mayu, Chris, and Mike are coming to visit so we should have a busy and exciting two days. Mike’s never been and Kelly hasn’t recently, so we will have to show them a good time here. Until then Sara and I will be taking it easy, resting up for the crazy weekend that Im sure lies ahead. Hopefully Chris won’t be too mad when I have to work the whole time, as he was last time he visited us, but at least this time he’ll have plenty of company.

Updates on Philly’s invasion of Block Island to come soon.