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eat and drink, mostly :)

 

write and talk about eating and drinking to the media, plus what's new, what's opening, what's interesting and good (hopefully clients of mine). read about eating and drinking, although most often i just scan, due to quality and volume (and leave my reading for favorite writers).

 

babysit, hold hands and stroke egos (occasionally)

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eat and drink, mostly :)

 

write and talk about eating and drinking to the media, plus what's new, what's opening, what's interesting and good (hopefully clients of mine). read about eating and drinking, although most often i just scan, due to quality and volume (and leave my reading for favorite writers).

 

babysit, hold hands and stroke egos (occasionally)

I think I love you.

So what am I so afraid of?

I'm afraid that I'm not sure of

A love there is no cure for.

 

I think I love you.

Isn't that what life is made of?

Though it worries me to say

I've never felt this way.

 

_________

 

So what's the deal with your username? It sounds so homeopathic.

 

:)

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Samantha, what is Financial Printing? Do you counterfit money in your basement?

 

Here's the cynical description of my job: I make drinks for affected hipsters with radically altered ways of speaking. I do not know why they talk like this. I think the music they listen to and the lack of dairy fat in their diets has affected the speech centers in their brains.

 

Here is how it goes:

 

2 customers approach counter. Both are incredibly hip. They are so hip they look as if they have been airbrushed onto the backdrop of the restaurant. Both have bags from Reckless Records (of course) which are large bags designed to carry vinyl (of course).

 

ME: "What can I get for you guys today?"

 

HIM: "Ummm . . . do you have . . . like . . . large coffeeeeeeeeees?"

 

ME: (wordlessly gesturing to the full espresso bar directly in front of his face)

 

HIM: "Okay . . . ummmmmm . . . I guess I'll have, like . . . a large . . . uhhhhh . . . can I just have, like, a large coffeeeeeeeeeeeee?"

 

HER: "Ummmmm . . . I'll have a . . . like . . . uhhmmmm . . . do you have sooooooooy milk? . . . ummmmmmm . . . can I just get a . . . ummmm . . . can I have like an iced cappucciiiiiiiiiiiiino with, like, soooooooooooy milk, and like . . . how many shots are in that?"

 

ME: "Two shots." (With no further attempts at communication, I ring them up for a large coffee and an iced latte. I do not bother explaining to her that there is no such thing as an iced cappuccino because this might entail having to explain to her the phenomenon of foaming milk and how this requires . . . like . . . heeeeeat . . . and that might take us years to get through).

 

HIM: "Thanks . . . uh . . . can I have some sooooooooy milk?

 

ME: (wordlessly hands over the carafe).

 

HER: (staring at me with an expression of incredible vapidity, I realize she wants the simple syrup for her iced drink and I tell her, kindly) "Are you looking for the sugar? It's on the small table, right behind you."

 

HER: (staring at me still)

 

ME: "Are you looking for the sugar? It's . . . right behind you."

 

HER: (snapping out of the Zone) "Oh. Thaaaaaaaaanks."

 

How many kids did William F. Buckley have?

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I am extremely impressed that Nero and Fritz have the strength of will to keep from tossing a pot of scalding hot coffee on their inane customers. When I am behind one of these seemingly lobotomized raver-bots in line for coffee, it's all I can do not to strangle them . . . or make them eat a rare hamburger.

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I'm just jealous that Nero and Fritz get to work together and get along so well. Wish I had that kind of relationship with my sib.

 

And I'm sure it's been said before, but: Nero, if the lawyer/hospitality thing doesn't work out, you've got great potential as a chronicler of our meshuginah times. :)

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Just to be clear, they are not siblings. Nero is an eccentric, agoraphobic, genius, private detective who drinks a lot of beer and never leaves his brownstone on west 37th street. Fritz Brenner is his able Swiss Chef. Why these two are currently working in a coffee shop in Chicago, I have no idea, but it must involve orchids or a case with a big fee. Where in th hell is Archie?

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To pay the bills: A public opinion researcher, absorbed in finding out what the Canadian public thinks about important issues.

 

Cynical version: I am an annoying git who is responsible for having those people telephone you at dinnertime to ask you "a few questions."

 

Deeper calling: Matron of the arts supporting an extremely talented but chronically underappreciated (and underemployed) artist.

 

Vocation: Teaching women how to annoy fish.

 

Fly

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