Back in the Saddle Again – Thursday 7/26/2007


The view from my usual booth, around 5:20 this morning.

The night manager who used to talk to me quit. Hmmm.

The morning waitress gave the new young night manager the most evil laugh yesterday morning when he was in for training. I think he was moved up from being a waiter. (Which never seemed like a good deal to me when I waited tables. Let’s see…work more hours, make less money, wear a different badge. Nope.)

“You don’t want to get on my wrong side,” she said to him, “You’ll never know what hit you, honey.”

Yikes. Probably true.

She’s the one who scared off Grumps.

On a lighter note, three or four people said nice things to me today. It was the first time since the infamous back injury that I had my laptop with me. Working on a short story that may demand to be a novella.

And doing my small part to keep the wheels of commerce oiled.

If there really is a writer’s strike and I and the crew people who come in at all hours of the day aren’t around, it’s going to put a big dent in the whole economy. We’re all just waiting.

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Wrong. And Wrong Again. – Wednesday 7/24/2007


I like this sign, which hangs outside Mo’s in Toluca Lake, right across from Bob’s Big Boy.

Wrong: The food is not fine.

It’s overpriced and not even very tasty. Their “famous” burgers are fat little wads of ground beef that glare at you from the center of the bun. They still have a burger bar with a handful of condiments and some bean salad on it that they think is the bee’s knees. Not since 1977 was this impressive.

Wrong Again: The service is not friendly.

The actors– I mean, the waiters–don’t want to be there. They are working here because producers, directors and writers from the nearby studios eat here. Sometimes you see a former waiter–er, actor– who has hit the big time, taking a meeting. The acoustics are terrible. Maybe they feel safe talking in a place where you can’t hear your lunch partner’s voice, let alone whatever’s going on at the next table.

I’ve been dragged–erm, have eaten–here at least once a year for the past 8 years I’ve worked in the neighborhood.

Maybe two wrongs will make a right and the next time I eat here I’ll find something to like about it.