Chop! Chop!

So I found a caterer. Not only did I get a prompt response, but I got a quote the next day! Sh*t yeh. Anyway, their's still some kinks to work out such as the menu. I've come to the conclusion that working with a caterer is like running with scissors in your hands, sometimes you just want to ram it into them.

First of all, the caterer suggested a plating service. Aghast, I think my heart stopped for half a second. I've been a cook for years. I don't know a lot, but I know that food is useless when it's being plated for a hundred plus guests. Well, unless your Wolfgang Puck. If I wanted my meal to taste like cold contrived cardboard, I'd eat airplane food. But don't insult me. Christ.

Than they proceeded to advise that I omit the dessert station? Yep. I thought they were kidding, but they were serious as walnuts. I'm not a fan of sweets myself, but gimme a break. No desserts? Why don't we cut out the oxygen flow in the atmosphere while we're at it.

The audacity of it all. I replied to their email, of course with a professional etiquette manner, to "bite me".

This is Shellie reminding you that leather is not a healthy source of protein, back to you Bob at the Studio.