Banks love People I was at the bank yesterday. I had to deposit some royalty checks from my mid-80's appearances on Star-Search. I sang my little heart out. "I - had - the time of my life, and I owe it all to you robots" Get back on track, Goober. OK. I am at the bank. Within the span of a minute these two things happen:
1. I am filling out a deposit slip, and I look up and scrawled on the wall is "Banks love People". WTF?! I am not a handwriting expert here, but donuts to dollars it was written by a smart ass. Actually, I am jealous I didn't think of the idea. Everyone should go to their banks and write that on the walls. Kind of an ironic, post-modern tagging thing.
2. This man is at the ATM. He's an old man. He has that nice grandfather look. Looking at him, you imagine that recently a small child snuggled up in his lap and he read them a book. He is getting money out - or trying to. It won't give him money, and it spits out a receipt. He looks at it, and turns to the woman at the machine next to him to ask what this means. (personally, I'd be horrified and reaching for my pocket knife is someone approached me while I was using an ATM). She looks at it the little paper and says, "It says here that the balance in the account is zero - there's no money in the account" "What? No money?!" "Yes, see right there: Available Balance equals zero dollars" "Oh my" He gets really worried looking and keeps saying, "Oh my". He then says, "how am I supposed to get home on the bus?" She looks at him, and says, "here's two dollars for the bus" He thanks her. He hangs out the ATM room for a bit longer reading the little receipt. Mumbling, "oh my".
Rockel Where in the world is Rockel? This is what I get for not asking her when she will be back. How can she be in Europe for this long? Doesn't she know that we all have funny stories to tell her. Not even a postcard.
Harvest Harvest (Court Street) is the nice little comfort food slash southern place in our hood. We go there a lot, and the food and everything is always tasty. But, Matt and I have this long standing complaint about their biscuits. They serve this really good fried chicken, and they accompany it with what they call a "cowboy biscuit". Granted, when I lived in the south, there were very few cowboys there then or in the past, but that's neither there or here or over there. Their cowboy biscuit is a Hungry Jack biscuit that they leave out to sit for a day to get hard. I am not kidding. They are literally Hungry Jack biscuits, the ones you buy in the store that are very easy to make. Monkeys and really smart dogs can make them. I make them all the time when I am feeling downy-clowny. They are tasty.
Harvest makes them, and then does something so that they are so hard that they are borderline inedible.
Last night we went there for Matt's birthday. He and I both ordered the fried chicken which was accompanied by a 'cowboy biscuit'.
The biscuit, this time was not Hungry Jack, but one of the Pillsbury types, but pretty much the same thing. Excpet this one was humorously hard. Like a puck. Matt picks it up and starts banging it on the table. It does not break AND makes a lot of noise when banged on the table. I think at this point, Matt was about to snap - biscuit wise. The waitress brings another dish by, and Matt stops her and says, "Can I ask you a question about these biscuits?" He was very polite and said that we love the food here, but these things had to be some sort of joke. I chimed in that they were store bought biscuits that are really really hard to mess up. She weakly countered with something about them being "cowboy biscuits" - but we later learned that she also did not know what they are. Matt began to demonstrate for her how hard they were by banging his biscuit on everything.. the table, the plate, the railing next to our table. Bang! Bang! Bang! By the way, the biscuit is not showing any wear and tear at this point. NASA should look into these things to cover the space shuttle with.
The poor waitress took all of this with good humor. It later turned out that she and Matt had met a party before, which relieved me as I didn't want to become known as the "guy who was with the crazy yelling biscuit guy"
All this leads to...
The Better Biscuit Bureau (NYC Branch) Formed last night, the BBB will work tirelessly to promote the production and enjoyment of biscuits, especially in biscuit troubled areas like our fair city.
Harvest, the BBB has you in its sights. We will not sleep until you adopt our not very stringent standards of serving edible biscuits. You have been warned.
