where to start? i was a few minutes late to work (seven specifically) and i really didn't feel all that bad about it either. people walk in there late all the time, continually, perpetually so i figure my once out of there million is acceptable. but that's just where the fun began. Jessica running the kitchen (as usual) and rich close by her side. throwing giggles back and fourth like children. its fun to them though so let them do their thing. I'm the prep cook i guess, i haven't seen either of them do any sort of back work at all since I've been back. Jessica made some comment about pancake mix. said it was too runny, etc. well that isn't William version three point OH fucking me at all. in fact i double checked the dates of the shit she is talking about and that's her fucking leprechaun who made that fucking liquid bullshit. pancake mix must be thick, like concrete mix when its first introduced to water. hard to stir.. the spatula should be like twice its normal size when you take it out of a good batch. that's how you get pancakes that look and taste like clouds. that fucking poor excuse they call pancakes with the shit they be mixing up are better used as Frisbees and nothing else. and while I'm not positive i think i heard that green fucker say something to Jessica bout the way i was measuring out vanilla. maybe it was because i was **actually measuring it** andnot fucking eyeballing the shit like they do. by the time their pancake mix gets to the active line its better used as liquid glue. the French toast comes out looking like it died in the over and never met French toast mix. stupid fucking idiots who don't give a fuck about what their making tastes like. if there is one thing i can't stand its that. i wouldn't serve anyone food that i wouldn't make myself. and because of the type of place i work at that makes me a worse cook compared to the others. while they might claim about being all about "presentation" and "quality" its a hard fucking pill to swallow. half of the stuff they have on the line i wouldn't thrown out yesterday. but i make my ways but it causes me to scurry around a little more than the next guy. waitresses love it. what they take out, and if it looks good or not can pretty much ballpark the kind of gratuity they will receive. they make less than 3.00 an hour in most cases and **rely** on that money, so suck it up fucker. cook to cook for the love of food and serving it to the public or get the fuck out of the kitchen. Brian was there too. 4-? the fucking question marks. he bounced soon after midnight hit. i would too with the way those fucking grill hogs work. Jessica headed out about 2.30 and then rich about 3.30. no actually it was more around three. soon as those fuckers left jill started to smile, Harlan eased a bit (I'm not even getting into that part of the night), and i had absolute and total control of the kitchen. compliments, i got a tip, good times, great oldies. Harlan and i sang an Alabama song _(if your gonna play in Texas..)_, and i cooked the way i wanted too. of all the things I've lost cooking wise (the ability to touch the grill, the speed i once had while cutting up produce, etc.) i haven't lost my timing of toast. i only had to sacrifice one order of it. it finished while i off getting something from the back (again a downfall of mine) and if you don't butter that toast the **moment** it drops, it will taste like cardboard. even better cooks time it out to where they do not even drop the toast until they know by the time it gets done the order will be. buttered toast that sits even thirty, forty seconds doesn't taste as good as it would if it got out the moment the order was done. now that also depends on the waitress. but jill was working -- so that wasn't an issue last night. work tonight. Jessica and Brian. Harlan and jill. Brian all night (old school baby), Jessica already declared she's leaving early. 10:05 sounds good to me, its **our fucking show tonight!** once Brian is informed about what Jessica all said to Harlan (along with rich) the hate runs deeper.