A picture of the kitchen I work in. That's Dave the sous chef there on the right, and in the distance are Frakes and Nicole, the meat cooks. This is my home away from home.
This is my deranged station partner, Jonathan, posing in what we refer to as our "office." It's actually one of the downstairs walk-ins, but we go in there to talk because it's nice and cold.
It's an off day for the Sox, so I'm off topic. Work was boring tonight, but I love what I do. We got in fresh abalone today - it was the first time I've gotten an opportunity to work with it, and it was pretty neat. Abalone are gastropod mollusks, and they come in still alive so that when you touch the abductor muscle it moves and ripples underneath your fingers. They're sort of a bitch to clean, and I kept popping open their shit veins, but it was still exciting to play with something new. That's the really cool thing about working the fish station - we might not be as busy as the meat cooks during service, but we get way more interesting protein than they do. I'm waiting to get eel in one day. When those things are alive you have to bash their heads on the table, then nail their heads to the wall and peel their skins off straight down, or so I'm told...I've sliced and cut and boiled a lot of things to death, but I've never had to bash anything. And to think that I was a vegetarian for five years.
I watched John Kerry's acceptance speech tonight. It was alright. He's no Bill Clinton though, as far as speech-making goes, but he's also not an insane, fundamentalist war mongering murderer either. At least he has that going for him. Best part of the speech was when CNN accidentally aired the microphone of the guy who was in charge of releasing all the balloons and confetti at the end: "More balloons, I need more balloons to fall! Not enough balloons! Jesus! Where's the confetti? What the hell are you guys doing up there?" Priceless.
CD of the week: "Either/Or" by Elliott Smith. Soft, sensitive, indie-type songwriters aren't usually my thing, but I like Elliott Smith. A lot. And how soft and mushy can you be if you commit suicide by stabbing yourself in the heart? Yowza.
Sox take on the Twins tomorrow in Minnesota. I'm going to bed.