Leftovers

Dear Bartender: How was your Thanksgiving? I hope that it was delightful. I would assume that you had a lot of turkey, and therefore a lot of tryptophan, and that’s why you’ve been on hiatus.

My Thanksgiving was very nice, thank you for asking. I had it with my dear aunts who can’t eat most things, but love to cook. While some of the guests brought their own dinners (you know that Zone diet just doesn’t let up), the rest of us partook in the traditional favorites of turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and baba ganoush. There were no mashed potatoes this year, but I fear that’s because they are slightly illiterate and cannot read the instructions on the back of the box.

Anyway, there was the small matter of the stuffing, which brings us to the question that I’m really asking you. My poor aunts had no experience in this area, and were quite unsure on how to go about stuffing a turkey. Now I’ve stuffed a few turkeys and chickens in my days, but I’ve never been 100% confident about my technique. I’m always worried that I’m stuffing the turkey or chicken too hard and just jamming everything to the back of the cavity. I’m also nervous that I’m just going to rip the hole open. I’ve been advised, by my aunts of course, that I should just take a deep breath and go about my business, because after all, the chicken has no feelings at that point anyway. Then there is the problem of what to stuff it with in the first place. My favorite is sausage stuffing, of course. I’ve heard of clam stuffing, which does not sound that appealing so I want to stay away from that. I’ve thought about just shoving my fist up there with some Crisco and bread crumbs, but then I heard about this bread pudding-like stuffing recipe with cream sauce, and I wondered what that would be like on my delicate, well-manicured hands.

My aunts also say that I should try to imagine being the turkey and that should give me a better idea of how it should be properly stuffed. I’m just so confused. Mitch, could you possibly describe for us how you stuff, or would stuff, a turkey or chicken? Perhaps a video demonstration might be in order, after all, I’ve heard that YourTube is quite the rage nowadays. Anyway, let me know if I should be on hand for said demonstration, or if I should just watch it from the comfort of my corner office. I thank you in advance for taking the time to answer my question. You’re a peach.

– Stuffing Impaired

Dear Stuffing: tryptophan: An essential amino acid formed from proteins during the digestive process by the action of proteolytic enzymes. I looked it up.

I’ve been on hiatus cuz I’ve been up to my elbows in some personal shit. It happens. Seems like we have a lot in common, Stuffy. ‘Scuse me while I go wash my hands.

Now on to your question: You’re crazy if you think that chicken doesn’t feel what you’re doing to it. I say lots more Crisco and a lot fewer bread crumbs. No one wants sand up their crack.

Also Starring Bea Arthur & Jefferson Starship

Dear Bartender: We all have so much to be thankful for. I am curious as to what is it you, and your readers, are most thankful for this year?

– Most Curious

Dear Curious: It’s an interesting question. I can’t answer for our readers. But I was excited today to find out that the Pyramid Club in NYC is showing the “Star Wars Holiday Special” from 1978. I haven’t seen it since the one time they showed it on TV. George Lucas has been quoted: “If I had the time and a sledgehammer, i would track down every copy of that show and smash it.”

So I guess I’ll start us off by saying that I’m thankful George Lucas doesn’t have a sledgehammer.

Reindeer Games

Dear Bartender: OK. So I’m heading home to see my family for Thanksgiving. However, for a variety of reasons, it is likely that I won’t want to return for a repeat performance next month for Christmas. The problem is that I’m a single guy in NYC. And I can’t imagine being more of a loser than I would be spending Christmas Eve/Day alone in my apartment. The family drama suddenly looks appealing. What’s a single guy to do on the holidays?

Sincerely,

Rudolph

Well Rudolph, as someone recently wrote in to suggest, you never have to be alone as long as there’s a 24-hour foodmart nearby. Maybe that doesn’t take care of your problem.

Personally, I’ve never understood all the fuss about being alone on the holidays. You’re worried people will think you’re a loser? You mean you actually know people who can make you feel more shitty than your family can? Your friends must be pretty fucking special. Mabye you SHOULD go home.

I mean, don’t get me wrong; my family’s wonderful. But that won’t stop me from spending Christmas with my favorite hooker.

Secret Santa

Dear Bartender: I have recently come into quite a tidy little sum of money (Angela Lansbury was so grateful after I pointed out a suspicious mole on her back while doing some routine “personal grooming” work that she tipped me REALLY big). As you and your readers have been so kind in accepting me into the “group” (or the “Island Of Misfit Toys” as Mother has begun referring to us), I wanted to surprise everyone with a little Holiday gift. Do you have any suggestions as to what some of the regular participants might like or need? Now I already have something for you (hint: think something like Summer Sausage from Hickory Farms) and I want to deliver yours in person. Am I correct in assuming that when I show up, if things at the bar are busy, you’d accept a delivery in the rear?

Please advise soon, as there are not many shopping days left until Christmas.

Your Friend,

Jay

Dear Jay: Alas, there’s no rear entrance at my bar — at least not one that I’ve noticed. But no matter — what I’d like most for Christmas is for someone to tell me why this picture is funny. I feel so left out that I don’t get it. Who’s gonna explain it — preferably in graphic detail?

Bone pickin’

Dear Aska: The other day I was at your bar. You introduced me to someone, saying, “Hey _____, this is _____.” For both of us, you used our askabartender pseudonyms. You outed me.

I didn’t even realize that you’d known that _____ was me all along. I felt naked and violated. Please repect my online privacy from now on.

Sincerely,

_____

Dear _____: Golly you sure went to some lengths to keep me from identifying the author of this letter; creating that hotmail account to send the letter from was a nice touch. (For the curious: You can email _____ at angryanimal66@hotmail.com.) I’m thinking back hard to try to remember what two people I’ve introduced over the past couple of weeks… You really could be anybody.

You get no apology from me. It’s not everyone who gets naked and violated in my bar. Lucky bastard.

I Think I See The Light

Dear Bartender: How can you know what you want until you get what you want and you see if you like it?

– Confused

Dear Confused: I heard once a theory about fetishes; it’s all rooted in the “trauma” of accidentally first seeing one of our parent’s genitals. The theory says that you fetishize the next thing that you look at. Kinda makes sense when you think about it… What might be the first thing you see when you look away? Leather shoes … boobs … bare feet … military haircut … pee … an electric wall socket …

My point is: Try everything. It’s looking for you just as hard as you’re looking for it.

A Beginner’s List

Dear Bartender: How long have you been doing this? (Bartending, I mean.) I’m asking because I need to know what qualities someone would need to bartend for a long time, as a career.

Well?

– Career-oriented Gal

Dear Gal: You need a good set-up. You need good regulars. You need to know how to make a shitload of drinks. You need to listen, listen, listen, till your ears are about to fall off. You need to know how to keep the customers close, while keeping them at a distance. You need to be very, very careful not to sleep with too many of them. You need to be honest with your employer (no stealing). You need to know when to throw the assholes out. You need to be good with numbers — like how many shots you can have and still keep your cool. You need an exit strategy for when you get (finally) just too burned out to do it anymore.

And you need to realize that just because everyone treats you special, it doesn’t mean that you are.

How’s that for starters?

BTW, I’ve been doing this for eleven years.

Girls Just Want To Have Fun

Dear Bartender: When Hillary announces her candidacy for President she is going to need a theme song for her campaign. I know when Bill and Al ran, they used Fleetwood Mac’s “Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow”– and I believe John Kerry used Elton John’s “Don’t Let The Son Go Down On Me.” …Any musical suggestions for Ms. Clinton?

– Campaign watcher

Der Watcher: The last thing that woman probably needs is more unsolicited advice. Still, on the off chance that you’re asking on her behalf…

We all know that she needs simutaneously to strengthen and soften her image — show that she’s not afraid of tackling global projects firmly but she isn’t cold and mean. And she needs to let the world (and her party) know that it’s OK to heal.

Only one song I can think of delivers. It’s ambition is huge but its heart is soft. The New Seekers, “I’d Like To Teach The World To Sing.”

Tic Tac Schmo

Dear Bartender: A guy sent over a shot for my friend the other night called a tic tac. Is there a hidden meaning behind sending someone this shot? We heard a story about it after the fact and wanted to know if you had any knowledge of it. It wasn’t exactly “nice.”

– Linda

Dear Linda: In all my years of bartending, I’ve yet to meet a person insulted by free alcohol. Maybe that says something about my customers. (Trog, you out there?)

I’ve never made a Tic Tac, but cursory research tells me it’s most likely Red Bull and Stoli Oranj. That drink would cost you $12.00 at my bar. Whatever insult this mystery guy wants to send (and please send more details about that) at least your friend can take consolation that it cost him.

Carry On

Dear Bartender: You get tipped, right? So maybe you’d know if I should tip on carry-out.

– Asker

Dear Asker: When was the last time you saw carry-out at a bar?

Past ‘er

Dear Bartender: Do you think most men stray because their wives let themselves go? Or is it another reason, and if so, what? I haven’t let myself go yet, but I’m thinking about it, and I’d rather my husband not stray.

This is something I read in on theresurgence.com:

…It is not uncommon to meet pastors’ wives who really let themselves go; they sometimes feel that because their husband is a pastor, he is therefore trapped into fidelity, which gives them cause for laziness. A wife who lets herself go and is not sexually available to her husband in the ways that the Song of Songs is so frank about is not responsible for her husband’s sin, but she may not be helping him either.

Aska, what do you think?

– Wife Holding On

Dear Wife: OK so I promised two-for-one answers. Here goes:

No, men don’t stray because their wives have let themselves go. Claire Booth Luce had it right when she said that men stray not because they’re tired of their wives — they’re tired of themselves. That said, a smart wife will not only keep herself attractive (let’s face it, it helps) but pretend constantly that she’s discovering something new about her husband.

Second answer: Your husband will stray. No man facing a mid-life crisis is ever going to feel “trapped into fidelity,” whether he’s a pastor or not. Your job isn’t to stop him — but to not be alone in your old age. There are several ways to manage that; mull on it for a minute and let me know what comes to you.

The Babysitter

Dear Bartender: What the fuck? I used to enjoy this site. That Joni Mitchell post put me over the edge. Whatever happened to the horny priests? The guy who fucked his girlfriend’s twin? That freak who was being robbed but couldn’t leave his house cuz he had an ankle bracelet on?

Shit, aska, you used to be fun.

– Bored Babysitter

OK so for the next three days it’s two-for-one. Ask one question and get two answers. Maybe that’ll keep it interesting.

Help Me

Dear Bartender: Can you decide a bet? Early Joni, Mid Joni, or Late Joni?

– Joni Fan

Dear Fan: Hey not so fast. Only 3 Jonis?

OK so I guess you’re making “Court & Spark” and “Chalk Mark” the dividing lines. Even so, that’s a lot of Jonis lumped together.

I don’t see why I should decide, so I asked my iPod: “Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter” is one of my most-often played albums.

Mid-Joni wins.

Any friend of yours….

Dear Bartender: It’s that time of year again — holiday parties. Would you entertain a cautionary tale?

Last year, I had a Christmas party and one of my invited guests brought along a friend. Not wishing to be ungracious (even though, with my tiny apartment, I had painfully whittled down my own guest list), I welcomed the stranger. He didn’t seem to be a terrible person, so I figured that minimal harm had been done — until later, when I found out that another friend had made a future date with the stranger, on the assumption that he was someone I knew personally and that I could vouch for his character.

I was embarassed that — though I had him in my home — I knew nothing about him. I felt as if I’d betrayed my (other) friend’s trust.

I know that none of this was my fault — it was all the fault of the guest who brought a guest. What I want to know is: is there anything I can do this year to minimize the damage?

Sincerely,
A Host

Dear A Host: I was once cornered into letting a friend bring a friend to a party of mine — and the friend’s friend spent the entire evening (I found out later) insulting everyone.

A lot of people are still living with the high-school-era belief that party hosts invite everyone they know and live in terror of no one showing up; more people — strangers, even — are supposedly welcome assurance that the host won’t die of embarassment.

What they don’t realize is that everyone else has graduated to the adult world.

Your guests deserve better. How to proceed: Strike offenders from future guest lists; tell potential offenders that the party is “very small”; whisk around any strangers who get into your house anyway with the constant refrain, “What was your name again sweetie?” so everyone knows he’s not in your special circle.

Oh, and Merry Christmas.

Blue Velvet Underground

Dear Bartender: Thank you for publishing my last post — and for forwarding the email from my first potential celebrity friend — or should I say friends! Mary Anne Mobley (Miss America 1959) sounds charming — and being invited to their apartment for a potluck supper provides me with a potential “twofer” in the whole “expand my circle of friends” department as Mary Anne says Gary is looking forward to meeting me as well (and quite ironic as my comb-over hair style was modeled on Gary’s more luxurious thatch). Now for the questions…

First: what to wear. Do you know if Sergio Valente makes navy blue velvet slacks in a size 42″ waist? (and 27″ inseam– should any of your readers work on 7th ave — hint hint). Second: what do you think would be an appropriate hostess gift? I think bringing wine is a bit too obvious. My usual hostess present is a gift certificate from my work — a 20% discount — I believe I told you I am a part time electrolysis technician/personal groomer but I’m not sure that is “special” enough. AND — as a former Miss Mississippi — I am quite certain that Ms. Mobley-Collin’s hygiene needs are well cared for (please do not make me spell out exactly what I mean as I am sure that there are some children reading this column).

As this is my first foray into the world of celebrity friendships, I would like to start out on the right foot, and I want my hostess gift to be unique. In other words, something that they wouldn’t run out and purchase for themselves.

Short of harvesting my own kidney, I am plum out of ideas.

Any help you (or any of your readers) could provide would be appreciated — but please hurry. Dinner is fast approaching.

Oh, and I’ve enclosed a copy of the picture from our brief correspondence. They must think I sound pretty appealing based on their invitation — and how charming that they would consider adopting an older, harder to place child (43– but EVERYONE THINKS I LOOK 42!!!). Most celebrities seem to want babies (yes, Angelina– I’m talking about YOU!).

Your Friend,
Jay

Dear Friend: I gotta admit I’m surprised by that quick turnaround — Mary and Gary must live for the phone. Celebrities get lonely too, I suppose. But I think you’ve misread their invitation.

They want you, if I’m not mistaken, to live with them. A dinner may be a part of it — but for all I know they expect you to cook it. People living together usually share responsibilities.

I’d suggest that you clarify the terms of the arrangement before you find out that dinner is that kidney you’re so shy about.

Your friend,
Mitchell

PS I found the Sergio Valente website to be way too confusing. They’re all about the fabric, but inexplicably they don’t seem to make any jeans out of velvet. You can get some plus-sized ones here, however…

Simon Says

Dear Bartender: I’m having a bit of a crisis. The other day someone caused me great distress by referring to a mutual friend as having “fallen off the face of the earth.” I couldn’t get a visual on how you would do this (would you fall up? ascend into the heavens? go over some invisible edge?) and I ended up with a somewhat severe anxiety attack.

It used to be that I could hear clichés and ignore them. Now, for whatever reason, they terrify me. What can be done?

– Simon

Dear Simon: Were you ever a Charles Schultz fan? There’s a creepy strip he did where Linus becomes “aware of his tongue.” Lucy tells him he’s crazy, but Linus is having a serious freak-out.

Lucy walks away in disgust — but then the same thing happens to her.

I think Schultz is on to something here: these kinds of freak-outs may be contagious. I’m starting to feel a little anxious myself — about my tongue, about falling off the face of the earth…

At least you’re not alone any more, buddy.

Doin’ the Twist

Dear Bartender: I have gotten to the place where I would like to widen my circle of friends. I thought it might be fun to have a celebrity friend, as up until now none of my friends (or even acquaintances) has been famous unless you count my parent’s next-door neighbor Ida’s sister-in-law Deanie who was Mariah Carey’s mother’s cat’s aromatherapist — which I don’t by the way. So, I am looking for some help in selecting a celebrity with whom to become friendly.

I have several on my short list, and as I work in New York City (Manhattan — I know, fancy schmancy) I could make these friendships happen.

First up: Andy Garcia. I would imagine he has a lot of free time these days. But I don’t know if he lives in New York City. [Note to self: google "Andy Garcia Domicile"]

Second: Ethan Hawke. We both belong to the same gym but he is a littlee standoffish. And there’s the matter of personal cleanliness. (He doesn’t wash his hands after, well, you know. And yes, maybe he has a stash of pre-moistened towellette packages in his gym shorts, but I doubt it. But as I would rather cut off my arm than say anything mean about anyone – well, maybe I shouldn’t go on.)

Lastly (and I have a good feeling about this one) there’s Anderson Cooper. We’re close to the same age — I am 43 but everyone says I look 42 — most likely because I stay out of the sun and use that skin care line promoted by Sylvester Stallone’s wife, former model Jennifer Flavin on the Home Shopping Network – and now that I think of it, Sly and Andy Garcia share an agent — which could explain why Ms. Flavin-Stallone is hawking skin care on cable TV. But I’m getting off the point.

My only hesitation with Anderson is that he might be just a teensy bit smarter than yours truly. He is so erudite (I confess — it was on my word-a-day calendar — October 7th) I can easily see myself being intimidated by him and his friends. After all, I don’t imagine that Anderson and his circle spend their evenings on the floor playing Twister, do you??? Not that I don’t enjoy some high-brow entertainment: just last month I took a bus to Jupiter, Florida to see both Mr. Charles Nelson Reilly in “Death of A Salesman” and Mitzi Gaynor in “Evita” at the Burt Reynolds Dinner Theater (FYI: the brisket was chewy) but still…

Do you or any of your readers know Mr. Cooper? If not, I would settle for an introduction to a second tier New York “celebrity” like Amy Sedaris (she makes outstanding cupcakes) or David Barton (I already go to his gym — see Ethan Hawke above). And, believe me, I would never refer to them as “second tier” to their faces.

Can you help?

Your Friend,
Jay

PS: Should Ethan Hawke come into your bar, I wouldn’t shake his hand if I were you (but ya didn’t hear that from me).

PPS: I have a few more questions, but I need a minute or two to gather my thoughts.

Dear Jay: OK so anyone who reads your letter is going to hope that I put at least as much effort into my answer as you did to your question. What they don’t know is that I already have: editing your letter down to what appears above.

Of course, I realize deleting 75% of your letter may offend you – and possibly ruin the rhythm and main thesis of your question (which I’ve tried my darndest to distill). (For the curious: there were lengthy digressions into the private lives Uma Thurman and Dionne Warwick, among others.) Please don’t be offended, Jay, if you can help it. It’s not that I don’t have faith in you as a writer – it’s that I think you overestimated the patience of our readers.

Because, when you get down to it, all you want to know is if anyone can hook you up with Anderson Cooper. Which is funny because I recently heard rumors that, before he was famous, he used to come into my bar. I’m guessing that he has to keep a (contractually) lower profile now; it’s unlikely that I’ll be in a position to help you hook up any time soon.

That said, I think you’re wrong if you think he’s not playing Twister with his friends. I suggest you find a Twister club in your neighborhood. It’s always best to be prepared.

Cagey Questioning

Dear Bartender: OK so my doctor wants to know if I’m an alcoholic and he asks me four questions. 1) Do you ever worry that you drink too much? 2) Have you ever been annoyed by a friend telling you that you drink too much? 3) Do you ever feel guilty about how much you drink? 4) Do you ever have an “eye-opener” — a drink when you wake up?

#2 was easy: No; my friends all drink more than I do (which is impressive) and if anything they tell me I don’t drink enough. #’s 1 & 3 were easy, too: Yes on both; of course. Doesn’t everyone?

#4 threw me. Does a 1PM beer before starting the afternoon shift count as an “eye-opener”?

– Not Sure

Dear Not Sure: Your doc is using the CAGE Questionnaire — CAGE being an acronym for cut down, annoyed, guilty, eye-opener. You’re scoring a 2 out of 4, at least. If you told your doc what you told me, he probably wants to keep an eye on it.

As for #4: I guess it depends on what time you get up.

Nothing Left To Wish For

Dear Bartender: I just read your post from the Extremely Attractive Woman and I’m wondering if you made it up. I ask because THAT IS MY LIFE EXACTLY! At least, now it is. It wasn’t always that way.

I was an awkward teenager, and even all through my twenties I was kind of fat. Now at 38, though, I have (at last!) chiseled away those final five pounds and I LOOK TERRIFIC. Everyone — everyone! — tells me, every chance they get. (I’m pretty good at blushing, so the compliments just keep coming!) Honestly, I’m going to be VERY surprised if SOMEONE DOESN’T ASK ME TO BE ON A MAGAZINE COVER SOON. THAT’S HOW GOOD I LOOK. And to top it off I finally GRADUATED from college and have a DEGREE. It’s in waste management but it’s a degree. At last! I can’t tell you how wonderful it all feels.

So what do I do about the bitter, no-life jerkheads who aren’t happy for me? I think that’s the only reason I haven’t gotten a job yet is because people are jealous.

– Has It, Will Keep It, Even If It Kills Me

Dear Has it: Whaddya mean you can’t tell me how wonderful it feels? Your whole letter is nothing but. As for people who are too jealous to give you a job in waste management, hang in there. That magazine cover can’t be too far away.

Now aren’t you glad you asked a bartender and not someone afraid to tell you the truth?

Straight Up, Chilled

Dear Bartender: I live in the Northeast, like you. It’s getting cold out. Did you notice? I wanna know what you think about bartenders who work in tank-tops, or shirtless, in the freezing cold weather. Are they just showing off?

– Brr

Dear Brr: A good bartender is always in rapport with her customers. If I walked into a bar and the bartender were shirtless, it would be my respect for her that compelled me to take my shirt off, too.

By the way, I’m sure a lot of people out there want to know where this topless barmaid is. The cold weather would at least make her nipples perk.