Cheese, Mushroom, and Saliva, Please!

For those of you who have just recently joined me here in my little corner of the blogosphere (thank you!!), it's important to know that I am one of five children (that'll come up from time to time!).  My Dad, the reciter of weird phrases that inspired the title of my blog, worked many jobs to keep us all in ballet slippers and softball gloves. Some of his employment titles included carpenter, football coach, and basketball referee.  His main occupation, however, was shop teacher at Maple Heights High School near Cleveland, Ohio.  He loved being an educator and proudly held the position of Industrial Arts Department Head for several years.

We kids soon learned that Dad's occupation made him a very popular man, indeed.  Everyone in town, it seemed, was a former student of my father's.  The mechanic who worked on his car, the guy who SOLD him the car, the guy who owned the convenience store where we purchased our favorite candy, ALL of them once learned carpentry from my dad.  Even when we were miles from home on a family vacation, it was not unusual to be walking through a crowd and suddenly hear, "Mr. Donnelly?"  I, for one, thought that was pretty awesome!

Years later, after I had reunited with and married my sweet husband, Alan, I began to notice a similar trend.  For many years, Alan held the position of manager and then GM for a restaurant chain called Bennigan's.  He worked in several different locations, including Syracuse, many parts of central Florida, even overseas.  In short, Alan had MANY employees over the years!  It seems that everyone currently employed in the restaurant industry worked for my husband at SOME point in their lives!  People approach us in movie theater lobbies, grocery stores and post offices, always smiling and beginning with "Alan? Do you remember me?  I used to wait tables for you!"

My husband is a fantastic boss and I've always been a little tickled and proud of his popularity.  UNTIL...

We were checking out the new California Pizza Kitchen restaurant that had just opened on that very day. By the way, here's another important fact that my new followers should know about me: I LOVE pizza!  I'm using the word LOVE here.  If you placed me on a deserted island and told me I could choose only ONE food to eat for all eternity, I would shout, "PIZZA!!" before you could even finish the question!

So, back to the story.  I had been impatiently observing the construction of said California Pizza Kitchen for several excruciating months, and squealed with delight the day their grand opening was finally announced!  They had barely finished cleaning up from the ribbon-cutting ceremony when Alan and I eagerly ran passed through their doors and grabbed a booth.  A nice young girl approached our table, took one look at Alan and happily chirped, "Alan!  Do you recognize me?  I was a server for you at Bennigan's!!"

Alan smiled, told her he definitely remembered and congratulated her on her new California Pizza gig. After a brief "good old days at Bennigan's" discussion, we placed our order and impatiently waited for our deliciousness to arrive.  When it did, however, the deliverer was someone different from our initial server. She walked up, held my (precious) pizza about two inches above the table, and then let it drop with a loud CLANK!  She then gave Alan a long, wordless glare, flipped her hair, and sauntered away.

"Let me guess," I said to Alan, "SHE used to work for you, too."
"Yep," he replied, "I fired her."
We both looked at each other, then down at our pizza.
"You realize what this means, don't you?"  I said.
Alan shook his head.
I continued, "There is now spit ALL OVER the surface of our lunch!!"

Guess what?  I ate it ANYWAY!!!  (Did I mention I REALLY love pizza?)

Thanks for Reading!!