Wednesday, September 11, 2002
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Wednesday, September 11, 2002 |
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Mike's Mailbag By MICHAEL
BOYLAN
Hey, I'm on the front page of weekend again. This is a nice opportunity, except I hadn't written a column yet, so I've decided to dip into the mailbag and answer some questions from some of my loyal readers out there. Dear Mike, What is with the groups of waiters and waitresses singing those stupid birthday songs at all of my favorite restaurants? Any advice on how to handle them? Signed, Stop All Stupid Singing, Y'all. Well, Sassy, I agree. The singing of the birthday songs at restaurants has got to stop. They can't even just sing the simple birthday song, because they would get sued by the person who holds the rights to the song. Instead the servers (let's be politically correct, Sassy) have to clap and chant "Birthday, Birthday, Whoopee Whoo" or some such nonsense at the top of their lungs and at a rate faster than the wing speed of a hummingbird (because there are orders up and smoke breaks to be taken). Nobody wants the servers to sing these songs to them. The only people who want them to sing it are the family members who want to embarrass the person with a birthday to exert some form of a power trip over them. "You may lord over the car keys, Mother, but I can get the servers at the Plucky Poultry Palace to sing "The Birthday Slide" even when it isn't your birthday. So, what can we do to stop these evildoers? How about singing at them when you need your order taken back or when you haven't had your drink refilled? It doesn't have to be a good song or even in tune. Why be better than the singing staff members? The other course of action is to not eat at these places on or around your birthday and to punish your family members if they embarrass you. Dear Mike, Was that you on the golf course the other day? You stink. Better At Golf, Better Overall - Yankee. Thanks, Bagboy. That will really improve my confidence the next time I take the course. Which will now be in about three years after extensive physical and mental therapy. Yes, I'm not very good. Yet. But someday I will be just as good as all of the other people on the course that day, many of whom were just as bad as me. I should have known it was going to be a long day on the links when I broke my driver before I even took one swing on the course. I had probably 15-20 good swings that day and seeing as my score was well over 100, well, you do the math. Golf is fun in that it is better than being at the office or doing chores at home. However, it is quite a lot of money for one to get angry at oneself. For that kind of torture I can just look through my high school yearbook and remember what a jerk I was to some people. And that is free. Sorry Bagboy. I will continue to play golf but maybe, if you're nice, next time I'll let you play through. Oh, and stop calling me Yankee. I'm a Red Sox fan and I don't need more abuse. Well, that's about all the time I have for letters this week. Besides, the majority of them were people laughing at me for buying a manual lawnmower and not being able to mow my lawn. Several people told me to burn my lawn or salt the earth and a few other people offered to sell me a goat. The lawn is fine now and in the hands of a professional. Thanks for asking. Until next time, Mike |
