Penny Pinching

Tuesdays at The Old Spaghetti Factory equal death. Not so much a physical death as a spiritual death. Tuesdays at The Old Spaghetti Factory kill my spirit. Dead. Tuesdays are the night of the 40% off roll back. All kiddie meals and classic spaghetti's- family favorites such as the mizithra or the ever popular meatball- are 40% off. Now let's chat about this for a second. I don't want us to kid ourselves into thinking that on a regular day that the Spag is what we could refer to as an upper class dining establishment. The meals cost about $10 bucks on average, but include bread, soup or salad, ice cream and free milk, coffee, or iced tea. So let's be honest, we're basically paying our customers to be there.

Picture the Roll Back with me for a second. It's like the Spag merges with Wal*Mart--- we're cutting back prices, alright, but we're also cutting back a little bit of our dignity, a little bit of our soul. Example. Tonight I arrived at work at 5:30pm, bright eyed and ready to go. Things were off to a banner start when the hosts, bless their hearts, sat me three tables at once- a 13, an 8, and a 5. Twenty-six people. And to be honest, probably about twenty-six teeth for the collective group. Here it goes...

I started on the biggest table taking their orders- chocolate milk. All thirteen of the them. Next table- chocolate milk. All eight. The five top gave me a break and just ordered milk, sans chocolate. Bless their souls. Now chocolate milk at the Spag equals milk (which takes about four years to dispense one glass) and a touch o' hershey's syrup, followed by a gourmet stir job. Twenty-six milks? Check. I take their orders, deliver the food, go absolutely crazy because the restaurant is packed and I'm on my tip-toes to get in between the sections, etc. etc. etc. Just another night of living the dream.

I deliver the ice cream and checks at the end of the meal and make my way around the tables to clear any debris. I like to call this the "they are about to tip you, make every second count" moment. While I'm doing this my 8-top calls me over.

"We have a question about the check", they say.

"Sure, how can I help?" I replied. Did I miss a kid's meal? Were they wondering why it was only $39.00 for a family of eight? No, it was a complaint.

"The kid meals are soooo expensive", they whined. "$2.99 for a kids meal? Can that be right?"

My immediate response was to laugh in their face and tip over each of their free chocolate milks, of which I had filled three times each. In my mind I pictured the little apple sauces, the free drinks the kids got, the 9 million loaves of bread I had delivered to the table during their stay. The cows I had personally drained. $2.99 for all that? Yeah, that's a pretty screaming deal. Instead I decided to take the higher road and not flip my shit.

I explained to them that it was actually the 40% off night, so everything was a great deal and skittered away to the kitchen so as not to assault or demean. People: it doesn't get any cheaper than the Spag on Tuesday nights. If this is to expensive for you, please feel free to dump some spaghetti noodles into a sauce pan at home and don't frequent our restaurant. In the meantime, thanks for your $2.00 tips.

Left at 9:00pm with a fatty stack of $15 one dollar bills in my pocket. For those of you doing the math that's 3.5 hours of slave labor for $15 bones. Indeed, Tuesday nights at The Old Spaghetti Factory equal death.

See you next week! Chocolate milk anyone?

eLife

I spent the afternoon with my friend Ashley painting her fabulous new town home. Between rollers and paint, breaking for lunch and chasing around her 1-year old we caught up on the happenings within our circle of friends.

"Is (so and so) still going to go to grad school?" I asked. It is common knowledge within our group of friends that Ashley is the keeper of all information and really is the tie that binds.

She replied that no, our friend wasn't going to grad school and was in fact moving. She is trying to get residency and so is going to work for year, etc. etc. etc. I was satisfied with this detailed response and fully prepared to move on until Ashley confessed the source of her knowledge.

"You know, I have to confess that I haven't actually TALKED to her, I'm just getting all of this off of Facebook updates." Ashley is still the tie that binds, but even more- FACEBOOK is the glue that holds us all together.

We are living the eLife, but is it a "real life"? Facebook offers to us the world at our fingertips- we can see friend updates, join groups, send out eVites to events. Any more we don't even have to leave the house to throw a snowball, become a vampire, enjoy a margarita, or have a pillow fight. They are all just a point and click away- no interaction required.

Are we getting duped here? I have 300 something friends on Facebook... but are they really friends? Case in point: I changed my status to "Married" just for kicks and giggles and to this day my "friends" are still congratulating me on my marriage. For those of you reading this who don't actually know me: no one has liked it enough to put a ring on it, yet.

All day long my brain thinks in Facebook status updates: "Kathy is driving to work". "Kathy is eating a fabulous turkey sandwich". "Kathy is the coolest person in the world". I even find myself trying to top my own status updates- no, don't write that, you can think of a better one to do. My eLife is actively trying to one up my real life!

A phone call has been replaced by writing on someone's wall. I don't have to talk to anyone in person because I can just chat them on Facebook. I don't need to ask my friends how they are doing because I see their updates and see their pictures. I'm totally in the know.

My friend posted this video on her blog. While I was "catching up with her" (AKA stalking her to see how she's doing without her even knowing) I came across this hilarious post about Twitter. Now I don't tweet yet, but it applies to all things social networking. Enjoy, and happy eLife.

(video function isn't working: click here to see it. totally worth it.)

Mom

Laughing * Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies * Twizzlers * Poodles * Supportive * So sorry, Charlie! * Dancing in the kitchen * Shoulder to cry on * Whips me into shape * Skip-Bo swearing * Yahtzee * Elvis * Firefighers * Old Trucks * Steals my keys so I won't leave *Patsy Cline's "Crazy" * Always ready to play * Best mom ever * Love you, Happy Mother's Day *

Getting Back on the Healthy Train

I have the jitters! Tomorrow I'm starting a diet and it's making me nervous. It isn't so much of a diet as it is healthy living, but for the kid who eats EVERYTHING in site, it's a diet. :) My friend Ashley is a nutrition/dieting genius and she has created a healthy living plan that works wonder. I know because last year I lost 50 pounds by following it! Then I promptly gained all of that weight back. No bueno. So it's summer time and I'm jumping back on the wagon. Mostly because I refuse to buy new pants. If you are interested you should check out her blog- A DAILY DOSE OF DIETING- it's great! It's got tips you can use to stay on track and things you can do to avoid pitfalls. I know that diets aren't everyone's "thing"; they aren't mine either. But this one works because really it's just a healthy lifestyle. I'm posting this picture of my previous before and after to A) serve as proof that this thing works and B) motivate me to stay the HELL away from chocolate cake. :) Wish me luck everybody! Here's to a happy, healthy, and helluva summer!

(Okay... the image won't copy over, so click HERE to see my before and after if you want.)

What Not to Wear

Every morning I leave the house and it seems that my entire wardrobe seems to leave with me. On any given day I am toting around three different outfits. There is the fabulous black dress pant/ spaghetti perma-stained white button up combo that comes with black non-slip shoes. Then, on a separate hanger you would find a casual business combo of dress slacks with some top and high heels. And finally what I trudge out the door with every morning as I head to campus, the classic jeans and a tee shirt. Throughout the day I change clothes several times: from campus to job #1 (wearing business attire); from job #1 to job #2 (wearing server attire). The system works and it gets me from point A to point B to point C on time.

Yesterday the system failed because I woke up late. I didn't have time to gather all 800 articles of clothing so I jetted out the door and decided to leave class a little early so I could come home and get the necessary garb. It would require a really quick scene change at my apartment, but I would make it work.

2:00 p.m. rolled around and I unfurled my plan. I left class just early enough to allow me to walk to my car, drive the three blocks home, run up stairs to my apartment, and grab the serving clothes. With 20 minutes until I had to be to work, and a 30-min drive ahead of me I was more than out of time. Like a tornado I stripped off the jeans and t-shirt from "campus wear" and practically leapt into my "office wear": dress slacks and a short sleeve sweater. Out the door!

I was feeling good about things once I got to the office. Feeling productive. Happy. On top of the world. My boss came in to talk with me and as I turned my head to see her in the doorway I caught a glimpse of what looked like a seam on my shoulder. What the?

"Is my SHIRT on inside out??" I exclaimed to Tara. I automatically reached up behind my head and found the tag of my sweater waving freely. Seems out. Tags out. I looked ridiculous. Glad my boss could see this moment. Awesome. Time to be funny, make a joke of it I thought.

"Well, at least I remembered to put on pants!" I joked. As I said this I crossed my legs so I could dramatically point out how great my pants looked. Anything to draw attention away from the shirt folly. When I crossed my legs the pant leg came up just over my shoe to reveal the number one faux paus: white socks with black shoes and dress pants. I had forgotten to change my socks!!!

Great. There I sat, a vision of professionalism in an inside out sweater and white running socks. I'm willing to accept the nomination to go on What Not to Wear at any time now. In fact, my boss would really thank you for it.

I Dreamed a Dream

I'm totally inspired by this. I know this is everywhere right now, but I just love it. Rock on, Susan Boyle. Rock on.

I can't embed it because it's disabled, but it's worth a jog over to YouTube to check it out. Here's to routing for the underdog....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=luRmM1J1sfg

Pandora's Box

While rocking a fever of 102 F, I lounged in my LoveSac tonight trying to nurse myself back to health. Pitiful, I know... especially for a Saturday. I discovered a new television show on ABC called Castle. Even before the opening credits I was sucked in. It's one of those crime-CSI-detective shows and it's pretty entertaining.

The episode was about murder, lying, deceit, and fear--- you know, all of the feel-good things that warm your heart. The storyline, however, was fairly suspenseful. As the TV characters played whodunnit and searched out the killer, I found myself becoming increasingly more jumpy. The pipes in the boiler room of my house lurched, and so would I. I would hear a car door slam outside and feel the compulsive urge to peak out over the window sill so I could see who was coming. Every shadow was someone in my house. Every noise was a call to arms. What was happening to me???

I finished the episode and peeled myself from my nest to punch the off button on the television. Needing to calm down from my hours worth of P.I. work, I decided to take a bath. Somewhere in my quarter century's worth of experience I've heard that it helps fevers. I was hoping it would also help with jitters. As I let the bath water run I creeped around my apartment, checking door locks and turning on lights. Indeed, a bath would calm me down and I sank hopefully into the water.

After a few minutes of attempted R&R in the tub I added more hot water to the bath. After being satisfied with the adjusted temperature I reached my toes up to the water knob to turn it off and was immediately inundated with one idea: I am Michelle Pfeifer and this is What Lies Beneath! Bathtubs, ghosts, murderous relationships. This was not a good idea!

I decided to avert my eyes from the mediated memories coming from the tub faucet and turned my gaze upward in an attempt to relax. As I looked up at the showerhead I pictured one thing in my mind's eye: spiders! Spiders crawling out of the showerhead... this was just like Arachnophobia!

My skin was crawling and I had to get out. I pulled the drain and grabbed for my towel. As I did I heard the advertisement on the radio..."A husband thought he had committed the perfect murder... " The ominous segment advertised Pioneer Memorial Theatre's newest show: Dial M for Murder. Great. So much for FM100 playing "soft hits with less talk".

For those of you wondering why I refuse to watch scary movies anymore, let this be my solemn writ and testament. I hate you Hollywood.

Sweet dreams everybody...