So a couple weeks back I started working at this new Italian restaurant in my neighborhood. Small. Cozy. Good food. I'm not gonna lie, at the end of the first couple shifts, I wanted to hack off my own feet with a butter knife. Standing and running and slipping and bending over for about six hours straight tends to do damage to one's feet.
But now I'm getting used to it - and the nice regular pay check.
Stop by for a munch, Italian-style. The British may have cornered the bangers & mash market, but we're working on conquering the salmon, pasta, and baciole markets.
