Friday, July 30, 2010 Sweet Success

Not only was Mom wrong when she told you not to talk to strangers - you should go a step further and invite them to dinner. Only if they're insanely talented musicians, of course.

You gotta draw the line somewhere.

Two full days of cooking culminated in a spectacular Italian feast for fourteen. No matter how much planning and prepping I do I always seem to be running about like a crazy woman as the dinner hour approaches. The last few hours were dizzying - making trifle, assembling the lasagna, making the linguini, the garlic bread. Somehow I got it all done in time.

Francis was already in the house when the band arrived, good thing because I was so busy getting everything ready I couldn't look up from the counter. Dave pointed them in the direction of the beer - we soon discovered we were all on the same page on the party front.


As my friends arrived in dribs and drabs I put the finishing touches on dinner. Blending together fresh garlic, butter and olive oil for the garlic bread I took a sniff and WOO! I thought I hadn't made garlic bread - I'd made GARLIC bread. Well, apparently I made Disappearing Garlic Bread, because it was gone.

The Lasagna was soon to follow, first the regular then the pesto. Once again I over estimated people's willingness to eat their veggies - the squash lasagna was the least popular of the bunch.

The meatballs were out-of-this-world delicious. I made a wedge with the garlic bread. Mmm, mmm, mmm.

Good food goes well with great company - and I managed to assemble quite a bunch. Arcane Malevolence fit right in with the rest of my kooky friends. I have quite a collection of oddballs and misfits. (And Linda - she fits in neither category. She's the responsible one.)

The best part of dinner is always dessert and my trifle did not disappoint. Real whipped cream, white cupcakes, strawberries, blueberries, raspberry mousse and homemade raspberry jello. Top if off by writing the bands name on the top and bang! I'm a freakin' superhero. Well, sorta :)

The band is putting the finishing touches on their soon-to-be-released album this weekend so the video will wait for the final mix. Mark your calendars now - CD release party September 4 at Seaside Tavern in Stamford, CT and September 25 at Cousin Larry's in Danbury, CT.

Go to for details and to buy tickets.

Stay tuned!

Bang on, my peeps!


Thursday, July 29, 2010 Meat-A-Balls

All-a day-a yesterday-a I-a cooked ana cooked ana cooked.

Cooked so much I developed an Italian accent.

Tonight is the big night. I'm expecting four strangers for dinner - Arcane Malevolence. Of course, I invited a few friends as well. And I'm sure my friends are stranger.

As I look around the house I can see I have a lot left to do - more on the cleaning front than the cooking front. As usual my challenge is where to put the people and how to serve the food. I think I'm going with the "serve your own damn self" model of hostessing.

Roasted Pepper Sauce Lasagna, Zucchini Lasagna, Pesto Lasagna, Linguini with White Clam Sauce, Meatballs, Garlic Bread, Tomato and Cucumber Salad, and Summer Berry Trifle.


I'd better get my ass in gear. Here I am drooling over the menu when there's work to be done.

Hostess away!!!!!!


Monday, July 26, 2010 One! Singular Tomato!

April 1st I started my seeds indoors. Now, just under 4 months later, I have plucked my first fruit - a tomato the size of a dime.

My husband and I ate it, it wasn't even ripe yet, but the good news is we got to it before the neighborhood squirrel got to it. This is a feat.

Last year the little bastard got each one of my tomatoes, one at a time as they ripened. I know this because I've caught him in the act! I've chased him off my porch in the early morning hours too many times to count. His dexterity and ability to crawl through the smallest opening, around every me-made impediment, is almost charming. The look on his face when he gets caught is adorable. Then he quickly and clumsily scampers away and out what I never knew was an in.

The whole thing is both maddening and amusing.

Here I am, on the second west-facing floor, growing tomatoes out of an icing bucket. It's not remotely cost or time effective. And this summer has been so hot I've been forced to cut back on my usual habit of sitting on the porch staring at the plants and waiting for them to grow.

I've never had much luck with vegetables and yet I insist on growing some every year. Herbs have always done well for me, but this year it seems I bought a bunch of bad ones because three of them have died. It could be that my soil is simply exhausted. I haven't been composting like I should be, but composting on a porch isn't that easy and my husband doesn't really like it. I understand.

But I garden on...

On a somewhat related note, I stumbled upon a group of volunteers at the Bird Preserve today. I'm assuming they were from the UCONN Master Gardener program. I should have asked but I skipped right to asking what they were doing. They were pulling up an invasive weed, they had stacked up piles of it in the path. She told me the name and I quickly forgot it. It had a "Z" in it. Looked like a nice plant to me but they know better than I do. I've read an article or two about goats eating kudzu so I know invasive species need to be swiftly squashed.

"That's cool" was my well educated response. "This is the coolest place in Stamford. I tell all my friends, it's the only place people smile and say hello. Everywhere else in Stamford people stink."

I censored myself by not saying "suck."

They giggled - because I was right. And right is funny.

"That's nice to hear!"

"Well, it's true. So, thank you."

And as I walked around the rest of the path I wished The Headbanging Hostess could throw them a dinner party. Because, ladies and gentlemen, those people are super cool people. They'll get dressed up like mailmen in the outback and pull weeds out of a pond in order to provide a place for wildlife to frolic and for us to enjoy.

And they don't do it for glory, or press. They're not "tweeting" about their work. They do it because it's right. Because it needs to be done.

That rocks!

Bang on, my peeps!


Friday, July 23, 2010 ArcaneMalevolence - Coming Soon

Another Week Without Dinner

We went out to dinner last night for a change. I'd been looking forward to going to this BBQ joint for about a month now. I'd read an article in the paper about the quality of the ingredients, the BBQ sauces made from scratch (no ketchup, real tomatoes) and the CIA trained chef.

I was really disappointed. We all were.

I don't want to say the name, but since I spilled the beans on my Facebook Fan Page I might as well say it again.

Joey C's Roadhouse in Milford, CT.

I feel awful, I really don't want to say bad things because I think it's SO IMPORTANT to make things from scratch for your guests whenever possible. Show the love! Know what I'm sayin'? And quality ingredients are DA BOMB! They actually had free-range chicken! A rarity, even these days.

You may not know this about The Headbanging Hostess - I am allergic to chicken. Chicken, turkey and eggs that aren't organic do quite a number on me. Technically it's an intolerance not an allergy. But that's a hair I don't want to split when I'm crying in pain because I didn't realize there was egg in the sauce or chicken stock in the rice.

Organic food labeling is a shady business. The differences between organic and free-range are subtle, and the additional labels of "antibiotic free" or "pesticide free" only further confuse what should be a simple transaction. I want chicken that hasn't been fucked with!

Eggs are even more confusing with the "cage free" label. Does "cage free" mean "organic"? And what about "all natural"? How does one go about making an unnatural egg? In a petri dish?

Let's face it - eggs are pretty fucking gross to begin with. They come out of the same hole as the chicken shit. Sometimes they contain a spot of blood or a few cells of undeveloped baby chicken. Then you crack them open and the yolk is yellow and the white is water - that egg is WAY OLD!

I never had a fresh egg until my friend Jane moved to the sticks. The white is thick - so thick that it holds up the goldenrod yolk. Yes. Goldenrod, orange - yolks should be reminiscent of marigolds, pumpkins, the New York Mets and the Baltimore Orioles.

The best eggs I've ever bought, back here in civilization, are Land-o-Lakes All Natural Eggs. See that? No organic labeling. It says "vegetarian fed" and "no antibiotics" but not organic. And I can eat them without incident.

The "organic" label is bought and paid for like everything else. Why Land-o-Lakes hasn't paid for this distinction to be affixed to its eggs is anyone's guess.

But it's interesting to note that just because something isn't labeled organic doesn't mean it's not. And just because someone makes their BBQ sauce from scratch it doesn't mean it's any good.

Sorry, Joey C. If it makes you feel any better I didn't like Emeril's BBQ sauce either.

Big ups for trying, though!

Bang on, my peeps!


Wednesday, July 21, 2010 Is That A Cucumber On Your Counter Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

There was pandemonium in the parking lot at the Farmers Market today. SUV's battled for spaces as I expertly squeezed my car between two commuter vans - take THAT SUV's!

Wandering into the market I came to a realization - it's too hot to eat! I walked around looking for something to jump out and say "EAT ME!"

The crazy cucumber you see in the picture was very appealing to me...not sure why ;) I've actually had them many times before. They're covered with prickers, but you wash them off, leave the skin on and slice it up with some dill and vinegar. Mmm, mmm, mmm. Or you can always make Hungarian Cucumber Salad. Slice it up thin and let it sit with vinegar, paprika, salt, pepper, thinly sliced onion and a spot of sour cream. Perfect on a hot summer day!

I also picked up some heirloom cherry tomatoes and a pair of those boobie squash. Gotta love the boobie squash!

As I stood in the Riverbank Farm stand I heard a woman tell her three boys if they behaved at the market they'd get a donut. As I thought to myself "She's missing the boat, ain't she?" I noticed a butterfly fluttering around the dill weed. Not the lady, actual dill weed. It was beautiful black and blue iridescent grace. I stood there for quite a while smiling, amused that the butterfly would of course choose the organic farm to peruse.

No one else noticed. Not the lady, not the boys, no one.

Are we all so blinded by life that we can't appreciate the beauty of it?

It seems so.

But I should be happy that people are at the market in the first place. Baby steps. Recognizing the link between agriculture, pollinators and the dinner table may take a while.

In the meantime, have a donut, kids.

Bang on, my peeps!


Tuesday, July 20, 2010 I'll Be The Six You Be The Nine

Blog post number sixty-nine, baby. A landmark number we can all love.

Like I said sixty-eight posts ago, if that offends you you've happened upon the wrong blog.

So far this week I've managed to make cookies and order pizza. Not a great week for cooking with temperatures in the 90's so we're taking this Thursday off. We need to rest up for next weeks dinner, anyway. I'm expecting a small, rockin' army - a hungry, small, rockin' army.

What do the Chinese call a sixty-nine?

Two Can Chew.

I crack me up.

And I hope I crack you up. I suspect I do because you're reading this.

But what really is the purpose of this post? I'm not cooking anything, so why the fuck am I bothering you?

To offer this advice - Eat Out more often.

Bang on, my peeps! Bang on, indeed.


Sunday, July 18, 2010 Something To Be Said

I don't like to go out.

I mean, I go out. I go to the store, to the beach - you know, regular life. But if I'm sitting around the house it doesn't occur to me to go out. Just like it doesn't occur to me to call someone on the phone.

I hate talking on the phone.

Recently my husband and I have been making a great effort to get out once in a while. We're going out to dinner with friends, catching live music and are constantly reminded of why we stay home in the first place.

People drive like fucking maniacs!

Venturing out to dinner one night in New Haven, which is about 45 minutes away, we saw no less than seven possibly drunk and certainly reckless drivers. And I'm not being a fuddy duddy. Well, maybe I am being a fuddy duddy, but with good reason.

I want to live long enough to get home from dinner!

Let's face it, people drive like assholes when they're sober. Once they're three sheets to the wind their ability to responsibly navigate the interstate has been seriously compromised.

Someone should do an ad campaign about that. Let people know they shouldn't drive drunk. Maybe a group of moms would be interested in that.


So yesterday, when it came time for dinner, we walked down the street. That's it. Like, two blocks.

How nice is that?

I'm not even talking about the food, it was good but that's not the point. To just be able to walk down the street and get a good meal and walk home with leftovers doling out slices of pizza to our favorite convenience store clerks in exchange for candy.

Why, I almost felt as if I lived in a real neighborhood.

Oh, it's a hood. And I've got neighbors. But I guess it's hard to connect the two, even if only for a moment.

So, there's something to be said.

I hope I said it.

Bang on, my peeps!


Saturday, July 17, 2010 Cake Balls on a Stick

I whipped these up using some leftover cake that I'd frozen a couple months ago. Once it was thawed it was good as fresh baked. Turn it into crumbs in a blender, add icing in small amounts until it becomes solid enough to form into balls. Chill. Dip sticks in chocolate before you put them in your balls. Ha ha ha. Then cover your balls with chocolate.

I crack me up.

The important thing to remember about these chocolate covered balls is that they double as sweet vindication.

Yup, it's another bakery story. I'll make it short and sweet. Just like the balls.

Making hundreds of cakes a week we were always tossing out leftover odds and ends of cake - cutting off the crowns, this 10 inch needs to be an 8 inch. Tons of cake wasted every day. So I said to the old lady one day, "Why don't we save these and mix them with chocolate or something and make like truffles."

Not a complete thought at all, but you see cake balls in that sentence. You know you do!

She scoffed at me so quickly, "What for?"

Years later, when I first stumbled upon the cake ball phenomenon, I squealed in delight knowing that my idea indeed had merit and then scowled at that bitch for shutting me down.

And now that I've made them I can say that I have indeed tasted victory.

Bang on, my peeps!


Stamford's Best Kept Secret

If I'm as brilliant a writer as I sometimes think I am I have managed to paint a picture of my hometown as a desert of manners, riddled with rudeness and plagued with assholes.

If I haven't done so feel free to use your imagination.

But the one place in town where I am always sure to get a smile and a hello is the Bird Preserve, located behind the girl's softball fields at Cove Island Park.

As you pass the metal gate with seagull silhouettes the screaming parents slowly fade as the sound of nature fills your ears. Swallows swooping by, paired up by color (go figure) - these birds take this mating ritual seriously. Meadow grass almost as tall as me covers what used to be known as Stamford's "stump dump". Now it has been carefully landscaped into a natural setting including ponds, rock formations and bird feeders and houses for every feather.

It's a beautiful place - wild flowers, a butterfly garden, deer, birds, bunnies, beavers, foxes, turkeys and nice people. You heard me. Nice people.

Teenagers, old fogeys, couples, lone men, people who don't even speak English - everyone gives a smile and a hello at the Bird Preserve.

"It's BE-YOOO-TEE-FUHL!" one Eastern European man yelled to me once from deep in the meadow. For all I know he could have been naked from the waist down and commenting on my rack. But let's pretend he was actually enjoying the beauty of nature in good old Stamford, CT.

How fucking cool is that?

Now, I've seen paths in the grass. People trampling their way into the thick meadow to do who-knows-what. And I know they shouldn't be doing it. But I also know they have some big and possibly deadly spiders crawling around there at night. I know this because I poked one with a stick like a genius one night. It was a black widow in shape, but it was too dark to see the markings.

And I had to run and catch up with my husband.


Friday, July 16, 2010 Corn Flake Night!

Thursday, July 15, 2010 Tomato Basil Ice Cream with Goat Cheese Sprinkles

Dessert it is not.

As good as it is, it is equally odd. The herbal vim of the ice cream shines through, followed by the sweet acid of roasted tomato - WTF? It's strange. It's not bad at all, but it is very different than anything I've ever put in my mouth.

Not a dessert, my husband and I decided. I'm thinking sugar cookies rolled in salt will dress it and kick it up enough to define the dish. It's gotta be an appetizer. An amuse bouche. Ha ha ha, never thought I'd use those words.

Here's the recipe...

Roast two large tomatoes, peel and extract juice by lightly pushing the fruit on a sieve. You're going for the juice, not the pulp. Put the juice in the fridge.

Put two cups half and half on medium heat with basil - I pinched 5 tops of basil from the garden. Slowly bring it to a boil, stir to prevent scorching. Then use a blender to extract the most basil flavor.

Put 4 egg yolks in a bowl along with 1/2 cup white sugar and whisk together with a hand blender until pale yellow and thick.

With a ladle in one hand and the hand blender in the other add the hot creme to the egg mixture slowly in a thin stream. You want to raise the temperature of the eggs slowly so you don't scramble them. Once you have added about half of the creme to the eggs you can mix it all together and put it back on the stove at medium heat again.

Cook it all, stirring constantly, until it reaches 170 degrees and coats the back of a spoon.

Remove from heat, add chilled tomato juice and strain into a bowl. Place plastic wrap directly on the custard to prevent a skin from forming and put in the fridge for at least two hours.

Freeze in ice cream freezer. Let it "ripen" - sit in the freezer for a bit - then grate frozen goat cheese into ice cream and mix in.

I'll let you know how the cookies work out. So if you make this before then don't expect dessert, this is better before the meal.

Bang on, my peeps!


Wednesday, July 14, 2010 Tomorrow and Two Weeks From Tomorrow

It's a good thing I'm only expecting a crowd of one tomorrow. I have yet to make a damn thing, although there's nothing on the menu that takes an amazing amount of time or skill - thank goodness.

My focus, rather, is on two weeks from tomorrow when The Headbanging Hostess enters a new era of video making, social contacting and humor inducing.

Hang onto your hats...

The Headbanging Hostess is proud to announce her "Music for Dinner Exchange Program."

I have invited a mind-blowing, kick-ass, Heavy Metal band to dinner. Arcane Malevolence. Check them out, you won't be disappointed.

Through the magic of Facebook I saw a couple friends we had in common, passed on the word to them and it seems The Midnightmares will also be in attendance.

Arcane Malevolence has requested Italian food and I've already thought about lasagna and garlic bread and meatballs. Feeding two bands is going to take a lot of planning, food, cooking - I plan on a new lasagna pan in which to cook my food :)

Looking forward to it is an understatement.

Back to the present for a moment - it's raining. I'm not sure if Farmer Jones will have Blueberry picking today. If not we go to plan B for my Corn Flake pie crust. Whatever plan B is...

I'll figure it out at the Farmers Market - rain or shine, baby!

Bang on, my peeps!


Tuesday, July 13, 2010 Beef, Bean and Barley

After Bento Night I made some stock with all the leftover veggies and ham. I actually gave half the leftovers away before I made the stock. I bought WAY too many veggies for that night. I guess it is possible to over estimate people's willingness to eat their veggies.

So last night my mind took off on the possibilities of using some of that stock. I made about 7 dozen cubes.

One down six to go.

Onion, garlic, beans, beef, tomato paste, water, barley, rosemary, chipotle, cumin, black and red, sea salt. Seven hours in the crockpot, serve on mashed potatoes and bang. Good dinner. My husband had three servings. I ate the one. For me it was missing some bright crunch of corn or something. Not that it was bad, just not as on the money as I would have liked.

I'll get it right next time. I have six more tries.

Bang on, my peeps.


Monday, July 12, 2010 Uncertainty and Corn Flakes

I've probably said this before - my neighbor likes to bring me food. She brought the beans that inspired Bean Week, the blueberries that inspired Blueberry get the picture.

Now that I've been blessed with an 18 ounce box of Corn Flakes I am proudly announcing Corn Flake Week.

Woo hoo!

I remember making Corn Flake Chicken Wings when I was a kid. My mother thought I was nuts, I remember. She always shuddered at the thought of eating anything American. At least when I was younger she did. She ate anything you gave her once she had Alzheimer's. And I mean anything - lemons, napkins, Christmas ornaments.

Pardon me while I laugh for a moment or two.

So, since the idea of Corn Flakes on chicken is 25 years old to me I decided to look around for some new ideas.

Buried deep in the Kellogg's Recipe Catalogue I found few interesting ideas in a sea of (you guessed it) Corn Flake chicken. A Ground Beef and Corn Flake Pizza in a pie dish thing and a Tortilla but not Tortilla because it's Corn Flakes Casserole thing. I'm going with the second one. I've never made a casserole and, having just invested in a jar of ground Chipotle, I know I have the right spices to jack it up.

I'm thinking salad to start with blueberries (because I'm picking them myself at Jones Farms) and Corn Flake Crusted Goat Cheese. And I'll have to make some Corn (Flakes) Bread.

Dessert will be Blueberry Pie in a Corn Flake Crust.

I'm also making ice cream this week. But I'm afraid if I say what it will be no one will ever want to eat my ice cream again. It's truly adventurous. No more lollygagging for me. Strawberry-Banana? Child's play! Red Bean? A sophomore effort! Lemon-Zucchini Sorbet? Puh-lease.

I'm making Tomato-Basil Ice Cream with Goat Cheese Sprinkles.

There. I said it.


Talking about all this food made me hungry. I'm gonna go nosh on a Christmas Ornament.

Bang on, my peeps!


Sunday, July 11, 2010 Reality Check

I'm up 13 pounds since I began all this cooking back in January.

Yeah, yeah. "WAH!" I know.

It's my body, I get to complain about it.

Eight lousy ounces a week adds up to me not fitting in most of my clothes, ginormous bazumbas and a few extra curves where there never was.

I'm not really sure if I care, to be honest.

I think I look good. I just don't want to have to go out and buy new clothes. I HATE shopping. If I spend 500 bucks a year on clothing I'd be surprised - all those dollars are spent under duress.

My mom got all my clothes at tag sales or thrift shops, so I guess I grew up believing I'm not worth the money because it KILLS ME to spend 25 bucks on a dress at Forever 37 that was made by unpaid child slaves in some foreign country.

And finding clothes that fit my body? Forget it. That's partly why I struggled to stay so thin for so long. Finding clothes that accommodate your curves is not easy. Women's butts and boobs don't all grow at an equal rate.

Anyway. Why am I writing this? I should be out walking off my poundage, but I've been lazy.

There. I said it.

So it's not the food :)

I'll keep telling myself that. Maybe I'll walk to the mall.


Bang on, my peeps!


Friday, July 9, 2010 Outtakes, B-roll and Bloopers #2

Thursday, July 8, 2010 90 Second Meal Mosh - Vegetarian Chili Stuffed Squash

Wednesday, July 7, 2010 Mint Chip Ice Cream from the Garden

There's something funny going on in my garden. Not funny funny but fishy funny. Some powdery mildew/fungal spore yuckiness has settled in on my Apple Mint. My Thyme just up and died and the Lemon Balm is turning brown.

To be honest, it's too hot for me to care. My only thought was to make some mint chip ice cream before the whole garden is overtaken by death and destruction.

I made the custard with half-and-half, egg yolks, sugar and both Spearmint and Peppermint from the garden. The Spearmint I put in this year but the Peppermint is a survivor of summers gone by.

I told my husband to pick up some chocolate chips in his travels. He called from the store to let me know Hershey's had a special edition Dark Chocolate and Mint Chocolate Chips.


Now. Let's try a little audience participation. I'll say the first letter of the description of the ice cream and you finish the word.


Very good - "licious" - you got it.

The flavor of the herb is subtle at first, sneaking up on you shortly after you consume the first creamy bite. The tingle is real, far superior to any imitation mint or extract flavor that you have ever tried. And the chips just give it the extra boost. Using only chocolate chips, instead of the Hershey's mix, would have been just as good.

It's nice to "revisit" this familiar flavor. I've consumed gallons of Mint Chip in my life, but this was a definite, delicious first.

Bang on, my peeps!


Tuesday, July 6, 2010 Another Word on Manners

I hope the holiday weekend brought everyone some joy, good times, good friends, good food and good manners.

You know how it is - when you have to put up with that certain family member, your friends spouse who you can't stand or a perfect stranger with no sense of personal space.

One day this weekend my husband and I found ourselves boating on Candlewood Lake. We've been out a few times with our friends on their boat. This time I noticed something new - as we passed other boats they'd wave (most of them) and my hosts would wave back. My husband quickly picked up on it, but I was still unsure.

Come on, this is Connecticut. We don't say hello to strangers. When walking on land we're sure to avoid eye contact at all costs - unless the person is walking a dog, then we give a smile and goofy "hello" to the furry four-legged stranger - as if the owner isn't even there. So why is it different on a boat?

I imagine, for a moment, that these people have money (at least enough to own a boat) and with that money must come manners. I quickly snap back to reality and remember that money and manners don't always go hand-in-hand.

I have worked in a few of the "richer" towns in lower Fairfield County. Darien, best known for its stepford wives and runaway rapists, has a very polite population. At least they did 10 years ago when I last served them. My theory is the old money comes with old school ways - manners are handed down generation to generation.

My time working in Greenwich was marred by total, complete assholes. "New Money" someone told me, "they're living paycheck to paycheck just like the rest of us." Their paychecks just tend to be bigger. Apparently the stress of living like this (it must be just awful having the mansions and the cars and the bling) causes them to treat everyone else in the world like dirt. Or less than dirt - like gum on the bottom of a designer shoe. I'd reference a certain brand but I have zero interest in designer shoes.

Now, working in Stamford... I don't know how to describe it. My hometown has grown tremendously over the past few decades. Corporate headquarters, major banks, constant construction, commuters - people have packed themselves in like sardines. Traffic sucks, going to the supermarket sucks, going to the beach sucks. It just sucks. But most of all THE PEOPLE SUCK.

I won't get into my time at the restaurant working as a server - I just would rather not remember it. I will also forgo stories about the bakery or the ice cream place. However, I must share with you this little ditty.

My husband works at a post office in the richer section of town. Every day he comes home with another horror story of how clueless and rude his customers are. They have taken his morning paper to stuff in their shipment (and you can bet he made them open the package, uncrumple the pages and give it back), he's been accused of stealing a credit card (the woman later apologized when she realized her maid had the card) and he's been nickle and dimed to the point when he's paid the cost of the stamp just to get them out of his face!

My husband don't take shit from no one.

I went to visit him at work once. I parked in the back and went to the entrance. They share the back door with a Subway - and as I was walking in I saw a woman coming out. I, of course, opened the door for her and she walked through and past me without any acknowledgement. So I loudly said, "YOU'RE WELCOME!"


Now, this is another one of those moments when I wish I'd done something more. Like yelled, swore, called her names and punched her in the fucking face.

"I'm not your fucking servant, lady! I'm a fellow human being. You're not any better than me. In fact, you're less than me, because I have manners enough to acknowledge the presence of someone else and to make their day that much better by opening the door for them in a gesture of kindness, community and camaraderie. We're all in this life together, bitch! Now say "thank you" before I kick you in the connie!"

What the fuck is wrong with people?

And this is not an isolated incident. This happens all the time - and it's about time that those of us with manners stood up for what was right and demanded respect.

Many moons ago at the train station in Fairfield (another town rich in money but apparently not manners) I witnessed three "grown women" belittle the guy selling tickets. They apparently didn't understand the train schedule (the exact times and dates printed in red ink apparently didn't register in their pea brains) and when the ticket seller informed them he didn't have time to explain it to them because he had a line of people needing to buy tickets for the train that was coming (during the Christmas rush with the times and dates clearly printed in red ink so a moron could understand) they got all snotty with him - like his job wasn't important, the other people in line weren't important and aren't we all far below them in status, us train takers.


I still wish I'd said something to them bitches - a fact that has propelled me to open my mouth on numerous occasions since then. But not enough. I need to do more.

So watch out you rude bastards. The Headbanging Hostess is out for blood - a pound of your rude flesh. Because if you think you're better than me you're wrong and I'll be more than happy to prove it.

Bang on, my peeps! And teach them fuckers a lesson!


Friday, July 2, 2010 Bento Schmento Night!