Donuts & Lettuce
Welcome to Ask Sir Jables: He Who Hath Waited Upon Life’s Tables.
If you need to stumble a few steps back to take that title in, no one will fault you for it. In fact, it serves merely to prepare you for the column’s intrinsic glory, for which you will certainly stumble back from eternally. (Related side-note: ASJHWHWULT is best read while walking backwards on a treadmill. Your doctor says you need more cardio anyway because your best friend slept with your partner and you replaced them both with donuts, so… you’re welcome.)
What is this column all about, you ask? Well, I’m glad you asked. I’m not glad you interrupted me to ask. And soon you will learn that I should never be crossed.
Ever heard of Dear Abby? I sure hadn’t. It was news to me, but she kept popping up when I was trying to explain this concept to the folks at Tipped Off, so I’ll make mention of her now.
Apparently she had a similar idea once. There really is nothing new under the sun, I guess (the sun sounds like a lot of married folks I know). She wasn’t real, by the way. There was no Abby. There was only Pauline. And Pauline is dead. And now Jeanne pretends to be a thing that Pauline never was. That’s why her advice is shit.
Sir Jables though; he actually exists. And he will force-fill you to the brim directly with intoxicating elixirs of priceless insight.
Sir Jables, (ME, I'm Sir Jables - try to keep up) has weaved in and out of the service industry over the past decade of my human existence as I found it advantageous to living the life of a rambling man. Not this word-gumbo kind of rambling, mind you, but rather that of a globetrotting sort. Far and wide have I roamed, and much I have learned. And much I have brain-dumped.
For the past three years of my life, I’ve lived in a van. And currently I live in a pool house. I’m being generous when I call it a "pool house". I can really only consider it a pool house due it’s close proximity to a pool. The pool is an above-ground pool that was placed close to the structure I now refer to as the pool house, that was formerly a toolshed.
Sooooo… if we’re talking about smarts here (and we are, since I’m really selling you on why you should give a rat’s ass what a grown man who has nothing in life aside from what he has to say), then I AM the sharpest tool in the shed (that is now a pool house).
With that truth established, donut question my qualifications and lettuce move forward…
Tipped Off is a service industry related site, so obviously we need to keep it on that level somewhat. You can make it easy on me by keeping the questions in line with that subject, or I can find a way to tie it to your questions through clever use of metaphor/simile/analogy, all the while silently resenting you for not having done the heavy lifting yourself.
I don’t doubt that most of you are too lazy to bother with making much of an effort to comply with what the spirit of this website column is to be. Let’s face it, most of you already aren’t listening. You aren’t reading this while walking backwards on a treadmill. A large portion of you are currently still munching voraciously on that box of donuts (and yes, I do mean the actual box, you insatiable void). And a greater majority of you still, stopped reading after “lettuce”.
So I’ll not be surprised at all to have to carry this baton myself, pass it to myself, cross the tape myself, then cheer for myself. That’s cool though. I’ve got the stamina. Just ask my hand. BECAUSE IT’S BUSY TYPING, YOU PERV.
Anyone who feels so inclined though, should feel free (if strangely not compelled) to write in. Got a question? Or a comment? Or a story about something that happened while you were waiting tables or dining at a restaurant?
Do you wish you could tell someone but realize that you’re already on thin ice with everyone in your life who you constantly bore with these inane details? Do you wish to be made to feel important by having your words acknowledged by someone who is paid to acknowledge them? That’s what a therapist is for. And I’m giving you this therapy for free. How amazing for you.
And of me.
Sir Jables' vast wealth of knowledge can be tapped at firstname.lastname@example.org. He can also be contacted by Morse code eye-blinking, intentionality in astral projection, or through his Ouija username: hailsatan.