Tag Archives: Indiana JOnes

Mumbles Mumbai Meets Sleepy Bhopal

28 Jun

June 28, 2014

The 21 Club it is not.

But then again, it isn’t Gray’s Papaya.

Somewhere in the vast sea of cuisine that exists between American Hackleback Caviar at $60 per ounce and $1 hot dogs is the Indian restaurant called Toshan. That isn’t the real name, though it is close, but it is a real restaurant in Queens and I’ve been there about a dozen times. It is a favorite of Saarah’s so, despite my not being a fan of Indian food, we go there every so often. Their food is a fusion of Indian and Chinese, so I generally find something I like on the menu.

It is kind of a hole in the wall but, if you ignore the Department of Health’s B rating (Why? I don’t want to know.) it is a good place with generally decent service and good food.

Just not this time.

We walked in around 5 o’clock and only 2 of the 8 or 9 tables were occupied, which was great because we could get our favorite table. It is a small corner table but it is next to a small partition wall so it has a little bit of privacy, at least on one side. The other side is open to the rest of the place, but at least I’m sure that no Thugee cult members are going to attack from the right and rip my beating heart out of my chest. (Hey, I saw Temple of Doom. I know to watch out for Mola Ram. This is an Indian place, after all.) However, it was not to be.


For reasons you will soon see, we had to skip our favorite table (and safety from heart-stealing cultists) and take one that was, unfortunately, right in the center. (Although there were only 2 tables occupied by customers, the way this place is set up, any other table we took would put us right on top of the other customers. And while one of them was an attractive Desi with a short top, my girlfriend probably would not care for me asking the hot chick to pass the soy sauce.)

So why couldn’t we get our favorite table? It was either:
A- the table had not been cleaned since the last customers left
B- it had a broken leg and was out of service
C- a group of dogs was playing poker there, just like in the famous picture
D- a waiter was asleep there.

The correct answer is D, a waiter was asleep there, and I have photographic proof, taken over Saarah’s shoulder.

Yes, that is Saarah’s debut in this blog. Isn’t she beautiful?

Yes, that is Saarah’s debut in this blog. Isn’t she beautiful?

So there he was, stone cold asleep, not only right at our favorite table, but in fact in the very seat that Saarah prefers. And did I mention that this was Saarah’s birthday? Unless the waiter, whom I’ll call Sleepy Bhopal, was gently snoring Happy Birthday this was a serious damper.

Now I have to point out, the place has other regular waiters. One is a woman who is generally good and attentive. The other is an older man (or maybe just middle aged but with prematurely gray hair- it’s hard to tell and I wasn’t about to try to snap a picture of him since he was both awake and handling my food) who may or may not speak English. It is really hard to tell with his accent. On top of that, he speaks in a very low voice. The woman seems to be in charge as she runs the register, but if she’s free she’ll run the food too, so the service was by committee, delivering food based on who was free and where they were standing at the time. Sounds silly, but like I said, there were only 2 other tables.

So there we were, sitting at a table in the middle of the small room, almost but not quite on top of the other customers, and with no protection at all from Mola Ram if he decided to burst out of the kitchen, horns on head ablaze, determined to rip my beating heart out of my chest. Right after he dropped off a few plates at the next table, that is.

So we sat there and, after I took a few sneaky pics of Sleepy Bhopal, the mumbling gray-haired waiter, whom I’ll call Mumbles Mumbai, came over and took our order. In addition to our food, I got a Diet Coke and Saarah asked for a Diet Coke with extra lime, no ice. This place does not, for some reason, have lemons. They also keep the cans of soda in a cooler behind the counter, so go figure.

The soda came, two cans, two glasses loaded with ice, no lime.

So with a sigh, I called over Mumbles and again asked for some lime. He nodded his head and scurried away. Really, like a crab. Anyway, he was back a few minutes later with… not lime. He was back with our appetizers.

So I just sort of sighed and looked at him with a look of infinite sadness, a look that said “hey, I worked all day, it’s my girlfriend’s birthday, all I want is some lime for her soda, can you please help me out?” Really, you may not think it is possible for a single glance to convey all of that but it did, for it suddenly dawned on him, this look of beatific glory spread over his face, he knew, absolutely knew, and rushed back into the kitchen.

He came right back with two knives.

So I assumed that the knives were for our appetizers (which was lollipop chicken and did not require knives) and waited for the lime, which never did come.

Saarah said “he thought you said knives, not lime.”

And then Mola Ram burst out of the kitchen, horns on head ablaze, and ripped my beating heart out of my chest.


At least that’s what it felt like. So I called over the waitress and asked for (and received!) some lime. Literally a whole soup bowl full.

Meanwhile, things were stirring with the still-sleeping waiter.

While Mumbles Mumbai was off in the kitchen and the waitress (does she need a silly name too? Is Desi Debi starting to cross the line from silly to racist?) was nowhere to be seen, a family came in and, with no one to greet or seat them, just stood around. And since this place is so small, they just stood around right on top of us.

And now, an ethical question.

If you go into a restaurant, and the only person in sight is a sleeping waiter, do you wake him up? I’d let him sleep, not because it is polite or ethical, but because I don’t know if the guy is prone to night terrors and I’d be worried that if I tried to wake him he’d suddenly jolt awake and, with a crazed look in his eyes, try to rip my beating heart out of my chest.

Plus, no way would I want to touch him. Uh uh, nobody is going to sue me for sexual harassment.

But throwing all caution to the wind, the father of the family leaned over and woke up (I couldn’t see how) Sleepy and told him the wanted a take-out order. The waiter wiped the sleep out of his eyes and, with a clear and obvious attitude of “leave me the f- alone,” slowly got up, stretched, and took their order. The waitress then returned and took the order slip from him. For all the world, it looked like she was used to his public naps, like he slept in front of the customers all the time. For all I know, maybe this place is famous for its somnambulistic servers.

Saarah and I eventually finished our meals and wanted to take some leftovers home. (Not the lime, though, there was just so much of it.) We called over the waitress. By now we were largely ignoring Mumbles and only calling over the waitress. However, Sleepy intercepted the signal and came over. We told him we’d like to take our dishes home and Saarah told him we’d also like some extra sauce. There were two sauces on the table and she pointed to the one she wanted. Simple. Easy-peasy.  (Not lemon-squeezy for obvious reasons.)

But Sleepy was wearing his cranky pants this day. Despite having the sauce pointed out to us, he started arguing with us about which sauce we wanted.

“Sauce? What sauce? There’s the sauce for the lollipop chicken, there’s soy sauce, maybe you mean ketchup, there’s the spicy sauce…” etc etc etc yada yada yada and honestly, not only did he have an accent, he was also still half asleep and most of what he said came out in a slur. A nasty sounding slur. Sleepy woke up with an attitude.

Saarah got real angry and told him “THIS SAUCE” and lifted the jar right up in front of him. Sleepy walked away muttering pretty loudly under his breath and Saarah and I both started complaining about him, so loudly that the waitress came over and said something to Sleepy, and from then on only she took care of us, bringing our doggy bag and the check.

Saarah and I then loudly discussed that we were not leaving a tip. (Actually we did- 3 cents. The bill was $34.97 and I dropped $35 on the table, not bothering to stick around. ) The waitress was so sure we were leaving without paying that as soon as I looked as if I might be thinking about possibly maybe standing up and leaving that she rushed over to the table and looked for the money.

So what’s the moral of the story? Never trust Mike Bloomberg. As mayor, he made restaurants put up letter grades to signify the cleanliness of the place, but what about the signs we really need? Like this?

sleep rating

1984 Previewed, by Rad Gnarly (Like Toootally Tubular Repost)

20 Aug

August 20, 2013

Another one from the Allan Keyes Archives. Coincidentally, the NYPD has its own Allan Keyes Archives, but the contents of their files are very, very different.

from August 27, 2012

Allen Keyes is still on vacation this week, without access to the internet while he explores the sewers of Oakland.  By agreement with his publisher, Shady Books, we present to you this reprint from the Nov. 1983 edition of Pictacular Magazine, where Allen Keyes writes under his non de plume, Rad Gnarly. In the meantime, be on the lookout for his album, Keyes Kroons Kristmas Ksongs, available at Tower Records and Virgin Megastores everywhere.

1984 Previewed, by Rad Gnarly

As 1983 draws to a close, we’re beginning to look forward to 1984. Lots of big things are in store! But we should not be remiss in looking back at some of the high points of this past year.

It was a pretty good year for me personally. I mastered the hackey sack, solved one side of the Rubik’s Cube (that’s right ladies, all this and brains too!)  and nobody- and I mean nobody!- had a more stonewashed pair of jeans than I did. Collar up, hair teased, jeans cuffed, I was the king of the mall! And we didn’t take any backtalk from those preppies either! Ahh, I can’t imagine a day where hackey sacks and stonewashed jeans wouldn’t be hip! And if it ever was, I wouldn’t want to live in that world man!

Setting my own life aside, 1983 had some major highs. For example, we were introduced to quite possibly the greatest movie creations ever:

Return of the Jedi itself was a dreary mess, why did they waste all of that time with the boring Luke storyline anyway? The Ewoks were where it’s at!  Totally dudical! I guarantee, everyone who watched left the theater longing for more of these adorable little rascals! I’m glad this is the final Star Wars film anyway, it’s nothing but an inexplicable fad that is finally buried for good. That said, I look forward to the inevitable series of Ewok spin-off movies. I’ll be first in line!

In political news, 1983 bought some welcome relief in the form of this man:

“Fritz” Mondale! He’s running against this Reagan guy – gag me with a spoon! I predict that the nation is ready to listen to and embrace Mondale’s tax-and-spend policies. It’s a slam dunk! It’s so in the bag I’ll even say Fritzy boy runs away with the election and wins 49 states! I’ll give old Ronnie one just to be generous.

Ok, enough looking back! 1984 is shaping up to be a fly year, and I have the scoop on the highest of the highs (besides my stockbroker that is. Nobody is higher than him! It’s all good though….I trust him with my money. Junks bonds are very safe investments. I won’t be doing this gig forever! Me and my boombox will be in Tahiti for the duration soon enough!)


 There’s been a lot of press recently over the announcement by NBC that they’re giving some nobody named Bill Cosby his own show. And he’s naming it after himself! What chutzpah! I mean look at this guy:

Would you give this guy a show?  Yeah, me neither. DESTINED TO FAIL! While this one gets all the hype, let me give you the inside dope (inside my nose lol!) on what the real breakout show of ’84 will be:

That’s right! AKA Pablo.  Paul Rodriguez is a much more talented comic than Bill Cosby could ever be, and the subject matter – a Puerto Mexican trying to pass himself off as an American – just lends itself  to all sorts of HYSTERICAL situations. I mean, look at this advance solicitation from beloved eternal American institution TV Guide:

“GET AN AMERICAN NAME!” HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!  Early contender for catchphrase of the year! (And delivered by the sultry Bea Arthur to boot…..grrrrrrrawl!) Now compare it to this plot of a Cosby Show: “Theo Buys a Shirt”  — I know which one me and my brothers at the Sons of the White Race Lodge will be watching at 8:30 this season!


Going to be hard to top the accomplishments of 1983. Some of the best movies were actually sequels:


 Smokey and the Bandit Part 3

 Superman III


And 1984 will be no different. The early line favorite (got that from beloved eternal American institution Jimmy the Greek!) for tops at the box office is this eagerly anticipated sequel:

Burt Reynolds will FINALLY win his long-overdue Academy award for this one! And Jamie Farr plays against type as a sheik! I’m there dude!! Expect it to run over other films, including some overhyped indie project:

Look at it….looks kinda boring doesn’t it? Some tired old guy just sorta leaning against a pillar. *YAWN* Compare that to THIS from Cannonball Run 2:

Box Office Gold! Indiana Who? Temple of What? I swear, that Dom DeLuise is simply the living end!


1984 baseball is expected to sport (get it!) an impressive roster of rookies. Twins fans are predictably in a lather of excitement over their latest overhyped prospect:

Yeah, funny stuff! Like this guy will ever be more than a utility player. I mean look at his name. It’s a universal baseball axiom: “NO MAN NAMED AFTER A PICKLE WILL EVER BE A GOOD PLAYER” The Twins will NEVER win a World Series, not with guys like this clogging their roster.


I’ve been watching baseball for years, and the Expos have one packed farm system. They have one stud prospect ready to absolutely come up and dominate, and he’s even better than can’t-miss beasts Rene Gonzales and Joe Hesketh.

America, meet your new sweetheart:


Look at him! He just looks like a winning player! The Expos finally have some talent on that roster. My money is on the Expos winning the series this year. And yours should be too!


Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh………..Mr. T!!!!!!!!!! will seek to extend his toy store and television domination to the supermarkets:

Delicious! And nutritious – just look at it! “Fortified with B-Vitamins and Iron!” JUST LIKE THE REAL MR. T!! I’d like to run out and get myself a huge bowl of it right now. Corn Flakes are dead, nobody will want to eat boring old flakes anymore! All the kids will demand their mothers buy this. Mr. T = quality. Just look at his other products if you don’t believe me (these are some of my private collection)



Look for Iran and Iraq to continue their long and bloody war. The good news here is democratically elected Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein is a good friend of ours, and has promised us that if we lend him our support, he’ll end the war swiftly and treat his enemies with kindness, and compassion. He’s a true humanitarian, and he’s been a great friend to the United States to boot! Oh Saddam! Our good friend! We’ll always enjoy our mutually cooperative relationship. Godspeed Saddam, a true gentleman if there ever was one!

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