Thursday, June 2, 2011

I dream of beef….

I have some bad news. The Rhino and I have spent zero time in the Bloomy’s test kitchen this week and all of our time doing lame yard work and getting the Rhino somewhat ready for his upcoming Canadian fishing adventure (which did include the creation of some SLAMAZING CHILI complete with chocolate! Seriously the best chili ever. It rocked my socks off.).

Picture: Sock rocking chili

My lack of spatial relation skills (which I refer to as “spatial” while doing robot arms) resulted in the accidental death of a portion of our lawn because I sprayed it with weed killer, and if anyone knows how to severely damage thousands of baby maple trees I would really like to hear about that.

In any case, the lack of Bloomy’s cooking going on made me experience Bloomy beef withdrawals to such an extent that yesterday I just had to eat a burger the size of my head. And fries. The resulting food monster in my belly was completely uncomfortable but totally worth it. Thank you Wildfire for providing me with an awesome dining experience. I hope one day to do the same for you.

Anyway, since my job with Bloomy’s is to be the PROJECT CHAMPION (read: NAG),  I gently reminded the Rhino over the weekend that we really needed to get some work done on our business plan. So I started researching equipment and miscellaneous things I found on the Internet while the Rhino worked some magic using Excel and math. We didn’t get very far… partly due to our collective ADD slash spring fever and partly because I failed my job as the PROJECT CHAMPION (nag). However, I did come to the awful realization that the MN Food Code is 165 pages long!!!!  This realization resulted in the following reaction:

Reaction:
(1) “What the…?!”
(2) Slam fist on table
(3) “MOTHER F*CKER!!”
(4) Place head in hands
(5) “For realz?!?”
(6) Heavy Sigh

I started reading one of the sections which I will summarize here: “this thing must comply with these 7 chapters, and these 11 statutes and these 17 federal regulations, blah blah etcetera.” (For a non-summarized version, you can go to Exciting Reading Material Found Here). Um… what? Weren’t we talking about the proper use of wiping cloths? Because I could say that in about one sentence: Don’t use a dirty wiping cloth to wipe up stuff. DONE! <Another Heavy Sigh> I knew that the Paralegal degree I got in 2008 and never used would eventually come back to haunt me.

Also, the Rhino and I had our first VERY IMPORTANT MILESTONE yesterday which consisted of a mediumly productive conference call with a banker about a bank loan. As this was our first call with a bank about getting a loan, I became quite nervous and experienced a mini whack attack* complete with palpitating heart and sweats (not meat sweats – this was before I ate the jumbo burger). I learned during this call that my experience as a Subway sandwich artist for one day 14 years ago is kind of embarrassing and not something I really want to talk about with a banker. However, due to the Rhino’s very eloquent wordsmithing, we were able to circumnavigate that issue and gain some very valuable business information. In addition, I discovered via my credit report that I have many credit cards I never knew I had (I heart free money!) and that I lost points for not having any collateral of any kind. Doesn’t dating someone who has collateral count for something? Apparently not. Plus I’ve had about 10 different addresses in the last 7 years. Oops!

In short, we got almost nothing done except learn about all the work we have left to do. So I’m off to have another whack attack* and to dream about the next time I can sink my teeth into some yummy Bloomy’s roast beef.


*Whack attack (n): A nervous episode. Usually includes a loud outburst and/or panicky eyes.   
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1 comment:

  1. Where do they get off calling themselves artists anyway? Pretty sure Van Gogh never asked anyone if they wanted white or wheat.

    Great post, keep'em coming.

    ReplyDelete