New Victim - Crabby Again

Last Edit March 25, 1999

Crabby Monday rises again. Or Sinks.
Dan is quiet because he is sick.
My son is hyper because I have heard from his teachers and he is in trouble.
Senioritis big time. He wants out. I want him out. Of high school.
Time to get on with life.
Cindy lent me her pen so I could write. It works on paper better than my son's. I forgot mine. I do have paper.
Kathy is pappy. I am nursing sore wrists. Too much typing.
Crash and burn on a lecture prep. Somehow typing Fabio pages or my stories do not bother me. Just work stuff.
I have on a dress the fits. I got into it for the first time in FIVE YEARS.
"Look!" I said. "I have a waist!"
"Real boobs too," pipes in Kathy.
Great. Now I need a jacket.
No, they decide I should wear the dress the next time I chase after Fabio. They vote on this.
Their humor is kilted.
Seated after a LONG wait (45 minutes), we fidget. They pass notes around.
"Some of us wish Fabio were here."
Got that right.
My son's pen is now under discussion - about how it sometimes run dry.
"Yeah," he says.
"But then you have to shake it around..."
I hit him. He's too young to be getting these jokes.
He is also stressed out because someone damaged one of the new tables he built for the high school as his Eagle Project. We have told him and told him to divorce yourself from the project now that it is done. It's a hard lesson.
We have a new server. Bad sign. We are a rowdy group. Very expectant. Know what we want. One use one menu (for me).
Cindy is drawing on sugar packets. I told you they get bored and start doing things. Even though we are subdued, it is obvious we need food.
They don't skate packages because Dan is too ill. And hungry. They all fast before coming.
I take it back - the Fabio Fan artwork has gone flying.
No! No! Rescue him!
Cindy drew me a logo - A I Can't Believe It's Not Butter bottle wearing a loin cloth. Sigh.
They discuss "Kitty Litter Surprise" - an actual desert. I will hasve to remember to get the recipe. Sounds perfect for Boy Scouts.
Pralines - good for the cooking contest? We ponder that.
I have 11 entries to mail today and tomorrow.
How about modified older recipes? SOme lethal cookie-bombs. My mother sent five of those. Artery-cloggers. Start with 2 Cups of butter.... I will remake them in a healthier image. Tinker a bit.
My cake needs real buttermilk - maybe. A little less flour. It's already decadent. I want it higher on the scale. Looks like a cake - taste like a deep chocolate brownie.
I need a drop-dead recipe.
I want to be on the booklet cover with that tall blond god of my dreams. I do. I do.
Guess I'd better get back on my diet. Need to fit my new clothes. Size SMALL pants. Yea gads.
Finally, salad has arrived.
Service is slow to say the least. Not a good sign. She kind of wafts in and out.
I have one cup of decaf. My eyes are crossed. I need more. More I tell you!
By 8:45 we still have no food. They will get testy if the service isn't better.
Check that.
It's too late.
Dan is glowering. Sick men are bad enough, sick hungry men are impossible.
Kathy goes off to wash her hands (been here too long) and I am snarly.
Actually, I get louder. I start asking for food in a louder and louder voice.
I get a look.
They refilled the soda pitcher. Then apologize for the delay. "Ten more minutes." People seated after us have been served their food. One couple has already left!
We tip well. Normally. We discuss this.
I ran out of decaf. They ran off with my cup. And didn't bring it back. Uh oh.
They don't call it Crabby Monday for nothing.
There is also a full moon.
Snarl.
We discuss how we are prepared to take care of the cats. Kathy is back with empty film containers. Purrfect. Litle leftover bombs for the kitties.
My boss offered me a digital camera today and I said I'd think about it. I haven't looked into one.
Like how do I take it with me on the next Fabio hunt?
And how would I keep it away from my son?
Actually, Dan recommended a dual scanner - handles Advanced film and 35mm.
Sounds good.
Plugs into a Mac and the NT.
Even better. I need to visdit him in hios new store in the mall. Mmmm. Need shopping..... Most of my clothes are falling off! I tie things a lot.
We have received one platter of crab meat by now (very slow service) and the complaints are loud.
The crab meat is cold.
There is no follow-up order.
No buckets.
No zip tools.
No anything.
I don't have coffee.
I get sprayed with cold crab stuff in the rush to eat them pseudo-warm.
I quietly go get the manager.
There is a problem.
It is LATE - close to closing time - at least it is close when you are not fed.
The manager (the one who had discussed how crabs died the last time) hurries decaf to the table. She remembers us. And three servers brought hot crabs to the table. Along with tools.
It seems that we have a brand new server just out of training. Yes, but still. I worked at a dairy one summer. Even new you know what to do. Not up to our standards.
We can't say we hadn't warned her. We always do. Warn them. We eat. Fast. And want refills at once. Hot.
We expect tools. I expect decaf.
I never get out of here with less than $100.00 on my Visa. I tip well. (The others pay me in cash - my son slowly deprives me of it for the rest of the week. At least it saves me from cashing a check.)
They are already out of crab again.
My son waves a piece at me.
Kathy says "It's a sperm."
My son wiggles it and says, "You didn't see that."
I remind him I am his mother and not supposed to see those things.
Cindy has a bigger beast.
Fun with food.
Dan is too out of it to comment.
They keep eating.
Even the manager is bringing food. And checking on us.
Pays to complain.
Nicely.
And then it comes.
KING CRAB.
They finally did it.
The beast must have been huge.
Not what I would want to find on the ocean floor with me.
Probably one like the ones that stole my older son's shoes when he went to Baha.
Kathy is wringing out her crab meat.
Two handed.
Keep the men away from her!
That gets a rise out of everyone.
In spite of colds and being tired, they plow through three platters of King Crab. These are BIG legs.
LARGE chunks of meat.
The legs are hairy - the claw actually feels fuzzy.
They decide now, after all of this, that the smaller crabs taste better.
I taste a piece. Not bad.
Of course, as I am putting it into my mouth, Kathy takes a picture.
Cindy takes a picture.
OK. OK.
I get out my camera.
We get new hot crab legs.
They ask me if I want hot meat.
OK. It's definitely getting late.
My son takes a leg and says he won't take his meat out for anyone.
I remind him he is to take meat out for the cat.
Dan says he wouldn't want to have been the man that had to kill these. They are some of the biggest he's seen.
My son is now playing trumpet with the empty legs. Making shark sounds. Singing tendons are back.

Time to take him home and tuck him in.
We have leftovers.
The cats will be in heaven.
I have some for me.
It's almost closing (10PM).
We send for the bill.
I am considering stir-frying the leftovers tomorrow in I Can't Believe It's Not Butter with a little lemon pepper.......

Actually, it became one of the recipes. Stir-fried King Crab in I Can't Believe It's Not Butter with garlic and lemon pepper, herbed rice and steamed veggies - great! Of course, my son ate all of it.
But then, that is a true testimonial, I think.