Sammy is upset but playing it cool, and calling Belle.
Hey Sammy. I got your text. What’s the 911?
I’ve thrown myself into this pillow. I’m so upset!!
I threw myself on a different pillow because I was just grossly overlooked!
Well, my male human, the one that hasn’t been home, is apparently opening a bar. Clearly he needs a capable mouser! He hasn’t asked me once to take the position!
Wow. Just wow.
I mean, he knows I’m from the streets! I pulled a mouse carcass from a hole in his first apartment and dropped it at his feet! He was like “what’s that smell?” It’s a fucking dead mouse bitch! Here it is!
Humans can be so ungrateful.
Yes. They can. It took a while to dig that carcass out. It wasn’t a confirmed kill but an excavation which actually is harder!
You’re perfect for the mouser position. Who knows what his problem is. I certainly DID NOT send my resume to him.
I mean, I definitely didn’t send a PDF file of my confirmed kills to him…or anyone! I got your back girl!
Nothing! Absolutely nothing!
Anyway, thanks for listening. He came home after so many nights like he was so stressed out and it pissed me off. I know from Harry who grew up in a bar that there are mice. And they need to be taken care of. Just thought that job was mine cause we have history you know?
Yes, yes, of course. You see I’m not emailing a PDF of my resume, just sitting on a magazine. Keep me posted.
New York City has seen a few hurricanes and tropical storms. Nothing like the southern coastal states but maybe that’s the problem. We’re not always prepared.
This past Saturday, we were visited by Tropical Storm Henry. That horrible bitch. It came quickly and wreaked local temporary havoc.
When you happen to be on an out of town job at the same time the governor calls a state of emergency, you’re particularly fucked.
I was managing a wedding in Tarrrytown NY, what the natives call “up state”. Really, it’s the outer suburbs but anything north of the Bronx, even just outside, is considered way too far.
I was in Tarrrytown, or if you’re into regional folklore, Sleepy Hollow of headless horseman fame.
It was a typical wedding, nothing out of the ordinary except that some guests made a point of leaving early. Like, before last call at an open bar. That’s strange.
I didn’t think anything of it until one of the waiters asked for takeaways for his table.
“They want to take dessert home so they don’t get stuck in the hurricane.”
I had no idea there was a hurricane coming. I don’t have TV anymore so any news I get is through yahoo and based on my searches.
“There’s a hurricane coming!?”
“No, it’s already here.”
That’s when I looked outside and noticed the sky lighting up like dessert storm.
I went outside and heard rolling thunder that was drowned out by the 90’s boy band hits the couple requested for their after dinner dance set.
Nothing I could do but forget about it. Weddings can only be stopped by pre vaccine Covid. I’d worked through many.
As if on cue, 11pm on the dot, it started to rain in Tarrrytown just as we were walking to the shock less bus that transported us from 96th & Westend in Manhattan in a mere 30 minutes, and there to take us back… or try.
The further south we got, the more it rained.
We must’ve been traveling directly under it.
By the time we got to Yonkers, the Westchester county cityjust above the Bronx, the bus was going way too fast in at least two feet of water.
All our phones were getting ominous warnings about flash flooding that could cause “loss of life”.
I looked back at my co workers. Normally they’d be sleeping or fixed on their phones, Facebooking, texting, what have you.
Now they were wide eyed and sitting straight up looking at the sheets of water hoping the driver could actually see where he was going.
I felt I had to say something.
“Don’t worry, these warnings are for Bergen county in Jersey.” Good leadership tactics on my part.
“Yeah, that’s where I’m going.”
My co worker I forgot lived there was sitting behind me.
We were all thinking the same thing.
It would really suck to die on the way home from a fucking catering job.
1 hour and a half later, we were back at 96th & West End.
Thankfully, it wasn’t raining there, and the streets were not flooded.
The streets weren’t flooded.
I got out with every intention of calling an Uber and done with this whole thing.
When I got a blockeast to Broadway, I should’ve known something was wrong.
Way too many people hugging the walls of the buildings or standing by the curb looking from their phones to the street.
I called my Uber to Brooklyn. It was going to cost $129.00.
I caught the eye of a woman next to me with the same look of disbelief and held my phone up. She held hers up, $250.00, going to Staten Island.
She was fucked.
I accepted the price and after a few seconds of “Connecting you to a driver”, I got a message saying there were no cars available.
I decided to just take the subway, on a good night that would take up to two hours, but what the fuck else could I do?
I saw my co workers standing outside the turnstile.
It turns out, there was no water in the streets, but ALL the water was underground. On the tracks of all the 1/2/3 trains.
Nothing either way.
We paired off based on residence, east, west, north, south.
I found my partner, south east Ron. We decided to walk toward the crosstown bus and try to catch a cab along the way.
There were of course none and an abnormal amount of desperate people waiting for the bus.
I convinced him to Uber with me to his address then I could get the Q, a mere 20 minutes to my stop in Brooklyn.
A mere $75.00. 😳 It was brilliant and nothing could go wrong….
A familiar is a companion. Whether it’s a positive good thing is up for debate, historically speaking.
According to Wikipedia: In European folklore of the medieval and early modern periods, familiars (sometimes referred to as familiar spirits) were believed to be supernatural entities that would assist witches and cunning folk in their practice of magic.
A.K.A. Women who expressed intellectual ideas and both men and women who were free thinkers.
According to the Oxford Dictionary, it’s a demon supposedly attending and obeying a witch, often said to assume the form of an animal.”her familiars were her two little griffons that nested in her skirts”, a close friend or associate, or, (in the Roman Catholic Church) a person rendering certain services in a pope’s or bishop’s household
A.K.A…. See above.
I think of a familiar as one that loves and takes care of you but not like a parent, spouse or friend.
I think of it like my Cats.
Always happy to see me, even if I’ve been a bad human and was gone for a feeding time or two. In my defense, if I know I’m working a 12-15 hour day, I always make sure to leave something for them like a couple bowls of dry food, I’m not a monster.
Always there to comfort me when I need it, cats are incredibly empathetic.
And most of all, they allow me to pet them even when they don’t necessarily want to be.
Petting an animal is scientifically proven to lower blood pressure and I can personally attest to that.
Here’s a video my cat Harry is patiently allowing me to make, he even faked liking it for my benefit. I know because I made a few from different angles and he put up with it every time.
I’m just coming off a brutal and busy couple of weeks and really need to relax and remember not everything’s about work and money.
For me, that means creating something, anything. A story, a blog post, a yoga routine or in this case a meal that I don’t have to spend money on.
I woke up today not wanting to see the outside world and not feeling confident enough for the outside world to see me.
Should really be doing the mountains of laundry I have piled up but can’t even entertain the idea of going to the laundromat.
Am I wearing a bathing suit as underwear? Sure am!
Don’t want to spend money on take out I may or may not even like, so it’s time to trust my pantry staple stocking skills I may or may not have. Here we go…
Okay, I see chickpeas, not my favorite so that’s probably why they’ve been there for at least a year.
Smoked paprika I bought for one recipe and never touched again…. Mmmm…. Paprika….
Now on to my incredibly disorganized fridge…
I can always do something with rice if only I didn’t suck so bad at making it.
Today will be the day I don’t suck at rice! It’s decided!
Some sliced pepperoni. Always delicious.
Frozen broccoli is never a bad idea but meh.
JUST plant based egg substitute! I’m allergic to eggs but JUST, works well as a…. a binding agent!
I’ll have to move those ones aside to find my gluten-free seasoned panko flakes, allergic to wheat but not an asshole about it when visiting friends or at a restaurant.
And there it is!
Back to those chickpeas….. they might be tolerable if marinated. Smoked paprika! Fresh garlic! Dried onion flakes!
A perfect meal
Thinking of seasoning.
I have the smoked paprika, fresh garlic and dried onion flakes to marinate the chickpeas, my healthy protein to go along with my not healthy protein (pepperoni), but what about the rice?
I have Sazon and Adobo. Anyone with a Puerto Rican grandmother (me) has these things on hand and buys them automatically.
Will not fuck up the rice! Will not fuck up the rice!
I rinse the chickpeas, transfer to a Tupperware container that I’m going to shake and cover the top with a sprinkle of smoked paprika.
Smoked paprika is strong, you don’t want to add too much.
I do the same with the dried onion flakes, cover the top, and I add 3 cloves of chopped garlic.
Shake it up and let it sit while NOT fucking up the rice for about an hour.
Put it all together!
As I’m mixing I realize it’s not becoming the texture I want like a meatloaf would, chickpeas keep popping out, so I make the decision to….
Change the way I’m going to cook them!
Instead of individual cakes, I put two pats of butter, some olive oil, enough to cover the bottom of the pot, and two more cloves of chopped garlic, underneath my rice/chickpea/sliced pepperoni mixture and flatten it like hamburger.
After 7 minutes of cooking this way…..
1 15 oz can of chickpeas
Sliced pepperoni, approximately 20 slices, julienned like this….
3 cloves of garlic, chopped
Smoked Paprika, approximately one teaspoon, go easy, you can always add it to the mixture later.
Dried Onions, same as Paprika
– Rinse chickpeas in a strainer. Place rinsed chickpeas in a small, preferably round Tupperware bowl you can cover. Cover the top of the chickpeas with smoked paprika and dried onion flakes.
– Cover the bowl and shake. Leave for however long it takes to cook rice.
Basmati rice, 2 servings, prepare as directed on the package. Butter is optional and avoid using broth. Only water. These seasonings are enough.
Adobo, approximately 1.5 teaspoons or enough to cover the top of the rice.
1 packet of Sazon, 1/2 a packet if you don’t like things too salty, you can always add more later if you want.
2 more cloves of garlic, chopped for cooking the rice cake.
Two pats of butter for cooking the rice cake.
Olive Oil, approximately 1.5 tablespoons, enough to cover the bottom of your pan.
P.S., I fucked up the rice.
Had to make another batch. Seriously delicious though!
Hit me up for any advice or any suggestions on what you would have done!
If you made this, let me know what you thought in the comments!!
Remember about two years ago when the customer was always right and no matter what you had to swallow your anger and apologize to them or risk losing your job?
Is that still true? Was it ever really?
In quarantine, I for one have become brutally honest with myself and as a result, with others in my life. I find them to be brutally honest in return. I like it! It’s a fresh take on life!
However, anyone who’s job depends on pleasing people knows you can’t ever really be honest.
In my job, we have this idea that you can’t use the word “No”.
Example: “I’ll take a half caff cappuccino with a chocolate drizzle.”
‘We’re at an event in the middle of a fucking open field in butt fuck county, you preordered your entire meal and have an itinerary that clearly says coffee or tea right there in front of you, you’ve been coming to this same event for years now, when have we ever had any kind of machine that will make anything other than shit coffee or hot water!?’
That’s what I would like to say but it ends up being, “We don’t have an espresso machine but I’d be happy to bring you some fresh brewed coffee or a wide assortment of teas?”
I can’t stomach the thought of doing this now that I know what actually matters to me. I will have to though if I want to be gainfully employed.
Anyone else in this boat? How are you even coping with the thought?