I don’t know about you, but I am pretty darn sick of all the negative smear campaigns on TV. I actually voted against one of my party because of this. One candidate actually talked about his own platform and agenda while leaving all the crap about the other candidate out of it. He got my vote.

Although I must say, that I think while the people were running their ad campaigns were so busy foaming at the mouth trying to beat their opponent down with their negative spin, that they ended up saying their opponents names so many times in the ad, that that’s what I remembered most. Funny!

There should be a law….. but then someone would have to come forward to back it, and then it would start all over again…. yeesh!

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One day after coming home from shopping with my daughter, Sam, who was about 5 years old at the time, I was about to pull the car into the garage, but noticed that all the boxes lined up against the wall would prevent her from being able to open the door to get out.

So I stopped the car before entering the garage and told Sam to get out of the car and walk into the house.

“Why.”

“Because, there are a bunch of boxes against the wall and you won’t be able to get your door open.”

“Why.”

“Sam, see all those boxes in the garage?  You won’t be able to get your door open enough to get out of the car, okay?”

“Why.”

“Sam, please.  Just get out of the car and walk through the garage and into the house.”

So, she gets out of the car and is about the shut the door when she stops.

“Mom.”

“Yes, dear”

She holds up both of her hands, palms facing me, and says in a completely serious tone…

“DO NOT RUN ME OVER.”

Of course I am dying laughing inside, but say to her, “I will do my best, Sam, now go on.”

Restaurant Humor

July 20, 2006

Or basically any kind of humor, I guess. Sometimes you are in a situation that merits a quippy comeback, and you don’t think of it until later. And sometimes, you have it right there to fire at will. Once that happens there is a certain euphoria that settles over you.

If you could, you would spend the rest of the day patting yourself on the back, and retelling your story to anyone who would listen. Well, here is one of those stories. You may not find it even all that funny, but I did, and it didn’t even happen to me, it happened to my husband, Bob. I have asked him to retell the story many times, and I may have even told it to a few people and substituted myself right into the story.

When we were in the process of opening the bar there was a hair salon upstairs. Everything was peachy keen until we opened and then the complaints started rolling in. One was that we were driving their clients away with the smoke. That was one I could at least understand, although we installed the most expensive, state-of-the-art air filtration system available. Oh that, and the fact that 90% of their clients were there in the day and there was very little smoking going on.

There were other complaints that didn’t make much sense either, like their customers were afraid to hang their coats on the coat rack upstairs because they were afraid they would get stolen. Now, mind you, we are a jazz/blues club and cater an older clientele, not the teeny bopper “lets-steal-stuff-for-fun” types. Rarely did we see anyone come into our place that looked like they were in need of a new, cheap coat. Also, the salon was upstairs and no one was allowed up there except our employees.

Well, the complaining continued. I can’t even remember all of the complaints. My husband was the one who was always the recipient of these complaints. One day he was upstairs in the office and needed to come downstairs. As he left the office there was an older woman walking down the stairs and making comments about the new signs we had just installed outside.

“Well, I don’t know what they were thinking, because that sign they put up is the cheesiest thing I have ever seen!” (Maybe it was a compliment…. I mean, we do live in Wisconsin… hhmmmm)

When she got to the bottom of the stairs she turned around to say something else and was looking straight at my husband.

“Who are you?”, she barked.

“Why, hi there, I’m Bob, and those are my cheesy signs!”

Needless to say she did nothing but turn red and stomp out of the building. You have to take your laughs when you can get them, right?

Hello World…

July 14, 2006

Ok, so I started this blog. I am not sure why. I thought I might start a journal of the trials and tribulations of starting a bar/restaurant with my husband, although, in that case I should have started it a year ago. Hell, two years ago when we both lost all of our brain cells and said, “Sure! Why not! Sounds like fun!”.

OK, so it didn’t go quite like that, but you get the idea.

Everyone always says, “Owning a restaurant is a 24/7 business”. You hear it all the time. You hear about all of the horror stories, the late nights, the hired help stealing from you, the hired help not showing up for work, blah, blah, blah, blah blah.

Well, it’s a alot like giving birth. People can tell you all about the experience, but until you squeeze that bowling ball out of the opening the size of a pea, it just doesn’t have the same effect.

Boy oh boy, I wish I had had the foresight to keep a daily diary, or hire a camera crew to follow us around for a reality show (and of course pay us handsomely) from the day we first walked into that 115 year old building to start the demolition process and turn a bunch of chopped up rooms on two floors into our little bar/restaurant. It would have been great, or at least entertaining. Kind of like when you are driving down the road and have to slow down for that car accident, hoping to see something grisly, all the while hoping out loud that no one is hurt, of course.

You get what I mean? Well, more to come as I ponder some more. I can’t afford therapy right now, so maybe this will be therapeutic, right?