Armbone's Guide to Life, Parenting, and Living as a Functioning Dengenerate

There's been multiple times in my rib slinging career where I've had interesting encounters with some wacky asians. Working where I do, there's always an asian show, a chinese circus, or some kind of shitshow going on. I'm serious, Charlie's everywhere. Sometimes when I'm walking in, I get a strange feeling that at any second there's gonna be a turf war between two asian gangs wielding nunchucks and tossing ninja stars. One of my favorite movies as a kid was "Big Trouble in Little China", so pretty much I hope for something like that to happen on a daily basis. Anyways, long story short, there's a shit ton of little oriental bastards running around in there at all times. And because of that there's always a story. Tonight I'll share one gem. When you're approaching a table of asian people you need to figure out which one of them speaks the best english, if any of them do, and focus all conversations with that one. It's usually

I used to be a big believer that women only shit on the 25th hour of the day. I grew up in a house where in 20 plus years I never heard my mom rip a fart, or for that matter, blow up the bathroom. My sister would gas the fucking house out, but she was my sister and for whatever reason I never really counted her as "female". I guess to me she was just the stinky fucker that lived across the hall from me and my brother. Well now I'm 29 years old, I'm married, and I have my first son on the way. I already love the kid more than anything in the world, but the little shit is causing my beautiful wife to unleash some of the worst orders ever released into the atmosphere. I swear to god if we could bottle this smell, we could drop a plane full of it into the mountains of Afghanistan and we'd have Bin Laden in minutes. It's pretty much torture. I never in my life thought I'd have to sleep with a bottle of air freshener on the nightstand beside me. My wife has to

Maybe the most lucrative wednesday (non-event) night ever. It was nothing but your average wednesday. Slow night, maybe make a hundred bucks if you're lucky. Well I guess I was lucky, because walking through the restaurant my ear happened to catch a conversation going on between a four top of frat-type douche bags sitting in someone else's section. One of the guys bets his boy $200 that he couldn't drink a pint of hickory bbq sauce in under 10 minutes without puking. Are you fucking kidding me! I'd drink a pint of pretty much anything for $200, so I stuck around. If frat boy turned down the bet, I was gonna jump in. Well the shithead took the bet. Now my only hope to get in on this bet and make some money was if this dude's got a weak stomach. So I crossed my fingers and waited. Just by looking at the guy, I could tell he probably couldn't hold his liquor, let alone a pint of bbq sauce. And just as I suspected, about a half pint in and he was running to the ba

If you had a guy with no arms come into your restaurant, how would you approach the situation? I handled it like this. This is kind of an older story, but it will give you a good idea about how my mind works. So, this guy comes into the restaurant. Decent looking mid thirties guy. Two perfectly strong, working legs. But the dude was missing both his arms. (Tell me that doesn't sound like the start of a great joke, "A guy with no arms walks into a bar.....") Anyways I greeted the guy the same way I would any table, and I asked  him how he was doing and if I could get him something to drink. He orders and I fetch Legs' beverage. Back then our restaurant didn't have menus, just placemats that stayed on the tables at all times. So when I brought this dude's drink to him, I put it down just about an arm's length away, but still on the placemat. I went over to the bar and just starred with curiosity. The girl I was working with comes over and says, "What a

Listen people, there's not gonna be a hilarious tail of shenanigans every night in the world of ribs. So I'll take this time to touch on a subject that might hit home for a lot of people. Stereotypes . Working in the food service industry there's a shit ton of stereotypes. So if you fall into one of them, prove the world wrong and roundhouse kick your particular stereotype to death like my man Chuck would do. There's the "5....5 dollar....5 dollar black tiiip" (sing that to the subway $5 foot long tune if you couldn't figure it out already). Then there's the, "jewish 10% tip". There's the, "oh fuck! Here's an eight top of asians that are gonna share three meals, drink 2 owen juices, a gingo ale, and leave shit for a tip". And the never fails, "white trash, don't leave a fucking cent, no matter how big the bill is, scumbags" the absolute worst of them all. At least Bruce Lee, Mr.Mitzfah, and the Thug leave somet

There's this middle aged couple that come into the restaurant that are known as "The Fry Nubs". They're this weirdo pair that have the same routine everytime they come in. They always sit in a booth and the woman does all the ordering. First she orders two sweet teas. I go get the sweet teas and put one down in front of each of them. Then like fucking clockwork, the lady slides her tea over to the man, and orders a coke for herself. -(I tried to out smart them one time, and when she ordered the two teas, I was a step ahead and also brought the coke. Well when I put the teas in front of the man and the coke in front of her, she looked at me like I had two heads. Then with a pissed off look on her face, she slid the coke to her husband and ordered another coke! Cuckoo, cuckoo! Needless to say, I never tried that shit again.)- Once they get the beverage situation settled in, they order a large fry with cheddar cheese on the side and an extra plate. Here's where it re

Welcome all! This is officially the spot to read stories of hilarity and vulgarity that are involved in the everyday life of a server in the restaurant industry. Some of the shit you'll read will cross some lines, so if you're easily offended by swearing, sex, race, or retard jokes then stop reading now.