“A man cannot break his penis,” Kylie, my twenty two year old waitress, exclaims. “Sure he can,” I reply. Don’t ask me how we got on this subject because I forgot. Waitstaff conversations are free associative exercises that usually culminate … Continue reading


It’s Saturday night and the Bistro’s jamming. I’m heading to the men’s room when Beth, a fellow waiter, intercepts me. “I need help,” she squeaks, “I’m going into the weeds.” “Whatcha need?” I offer gallantly. My piss can wait a … Continue reading


“Is all your pasta homemade?” my customer, an obvious foodie type, asks. “No sir,” I reply truthfully, “Some, not all.” “What’s homemade?” the man asks with a trace of exasperation, “I only eat homemade pasta.” I want to tell my … Continue reading