Some Thoughts and a Holiday Well Wish

Friends, Floridians, Countrymen, lend me your ears...or don't! I won't be posting much this week because...Holidays!

We live in trying times. Issues are thrust upon us as a Nation that we have never had to handle before. The internet and social connections due to the internet have allowed us to branch out in our understanding of relationships. In so doing we have become the an inaccurately over-informed people. We have nearly infinite information out our fingertips, but rather than searching for (and thinking about, and deciding if...) 'good' information from valid sources, we have decided, as a culture, to take our Facebook newsfeed as law.

I feel deeply troubled by the burgeoning race-war that seems to have so very little to do with race and so much more to do with accountability, training and cultural understanding. Ferguson has shown us that there is more than just a single issue hurting us at home. While the current craziness is being brandished as a riot against police brutality, we all know that that simply isn't true. While ignorance is more common than I'd hope, no one is stupid enough to think that rioting against police will actually lower police brutality. Bullets for peace, condoms for children, etc. It's one of those things that has an inverse reaction. The more violent our populace, the more combat ready our police. If a community values violence, toughness and anger, they will get police that can handle that, and are trained to handle that as best as possible. (A small example, ask any military or former military man who the best fighter they know is. It will be a Military Policeman. Because the question always becomes: who do you send to arrest someone? Answer: Someone whose bigger, tougher, and more likely to win a fight.)

I don't want to get into this debate again I simply want to say this: I love my friends, I love my family and I love my country. I very much hope that we get by this together, as opposed to being forced to live in a situation that no one desires. The Holidays are upon us and despite the corporate goals that we have being force-fed to us with a side of cranberry and a dash of holly...it really 'tis the Season. We should be able to celebrate our holidays, celebrate those we love, without fear for our own safety or the well-being of our neighbors.

America is a great place. It might not be the best place, but it's really, really great. We owe it to ourselves to keep it that way.

So I end with this: get involved, if you want, in the ongoing debates about Ferguson, but please, read up. Find the facts. And make sure the facts are relevant to the real world, i.e. come from a reputable news source. Not some asshole like me who happens to operate a blog that sounds trustworthy.

But more importantly, enjoy your life. Take responsibility for yourself and your family, but have some fun. Don't drive drunk, but enjoy a drink!

Happy Thanksgiving. I love you all!

A Letter to Hot Waitresses

Dear Hot Waitresses, (Also, in this case, the one who served my table Friday at Outback.)

I'd like to lead this letter with a notation of how incredibly hot you all are. You're incredibly hot--beautiful even, if it makes you all feel less...thirteen.
Notation over.

Beyond that (incredibly important) point, I very much enjoyed your (in this case) quick and smiling service, and I'm inclined to visit your establishment again in the future--not only because I enjoy [Outback's] cuisine, but because you made my experience better and I kind of want to ask you out.

Which leads me to this letter, and why it exists. Hot waitresses, or if you want to go PC, incredibly beautiful female servers, seem to be a staple in the food industry. I understand the logic. People (all people, don't lie to me) like attractive people. Our biology essentially forces us to trust beauty. Ugly people are bad and they'll rifle through your purse if you get up to go to the restroom and leave it behind. I know it's horrible, but even ugly people like attractive people more...you don't fight your nature. (At least not with any expectation of winning.) Thus, (to the point) we (the people who dine at your establishments) are more inclined to tip an attractive server. We like you right away! An ugly waitress with a golden personality really doesn't have the time to win me over in the thirty minutes I'll be eating. Her tip may suffer.

Now, following the logic that many waitresses are beautiful leads you smack into the second conundrum:

Men are weak. At least in your presence, hot waitresses. We can't really help ourselves. You're everything we were born to love. You're beautiful. You smile a lot (so you must be happy!)You bring us food and in some cases pick up our trash when we finish. You keep our drinks full and laugh at our jokes. You are in a room full of televisions playing sports and you don't roll your eyes or complain about how we don't care about you anymore. You are the perfect woman.

So here's the question, all waitresses in general and also Outback waitress in particular, how does a guy know when there's something actually there? You, the employee aren't going to hit on the customer. That could lose you your job. And would come across as desperate.

The customer, of course will hit on you, and you'll respond lightly, with neither an affirmation or denial of his affection, because it could lose you money. But, then, I could see how from your perspective, I (male customers) am just flirting with you because that's what men do. We flirt with hot waitresses. It's safe to assume that you know how beautiful you are. You're serving tables, and making pretty good money doing it. You're not a child.

So then, the only option to those of us without cosmic charisma and killer good looks:
Go to the restaurant every weekend. Constantly connive to get the same server. And over a period of weeks and months, befriend her and win her over.

Of course in that time she could have met a guy at a bar one night and wha-la, boyfriended. 

How do you win, in this situation, hot waitresses?

It certainly isn't the classic "number on the napkin." (Or dollar bill.)

I'm not a regular at very many bars anymore. But when I was, the waitresses loved to bring over the various notes they got from men throughout the night. Now, we all know I'm not above judging people. (That would be silly, I have a comedy blog.) These guys weren't always bad looking slobs. Some of them were well put together guys that if they asked me I'd give them some practiced line like, "I'm not gay, but if you're buying..." (Practiced because gay guys love me, obviously.)

Is it just something about the restaurant industry that kills your warm and fuzzy parts, hot waitresses? If I asked you out after talking to you at a coffee shop would you go out with me? Or kindly decline and quickly walk away so you could call...sorry--forgot the age--tweet all your friends about the "absolute idiot who just asked me out at Starbucks. He was kinda' cute though..." (I added that last part to feel better about this entire pretend situation.)

Well, I'm sorry, hot waitresses, that I have a hard time asking you out at work. Many of you are heartbreakingly beautiful and I know heartbreakingly isn't a word but, shouldn't it be? 

Maybe, in the future, I'll find a way around the conundrum, like, right before you bring the check, asking "Hey, how do you feel about going out?"

I've heard that sometimes works.

Sincerely,
Dave