Wednesday, May 27, 2009
"The tiger can't change his spots. No, wait, he did! Good for him!"
Ladies and gentlemen, I am undercover. I exist as a waitress and only a waitress. I have disguised my true nature so thoroughly that there is considerable discussion amongst my coworkers as to whether I am intelligent. My boss believes me to be a "ding-dong." He also believes that God burns down the houses of unbelievers, and that interracial relationships cause...hurricanes? This was unclear, but it may be related to his other belief that non-white people "smell bad in summer." Obviously he is a charmer in the extreme. Last night he informed me that I resembled a nanny goat. "That is...not a compliment, in America," I responded. "But nanny goats are so cute," he cooed. "Keep those feelings in Greece, where they belong!" I shrieked. Another waitress believes that my "elevator may not go all the way to the top." "Not only does my elevator go all the way to the top," I answered, "but Einstein and Marie Curie are banging each other in it." She stared at me for a long while. "That's impossible," she informed me gently, and stopped just short of twirling a slow, pitying finger at her temple.