The Queen of Minor Disasters by Antonietta Mariottini Read Free Book Online

lack that spark.

Recipe:
Meatballs
    Yields 4 dozen medium sized
meatballs
     
    Perfect for when you’re
stressed. Just try them, you’ll see.
     
    1 pound ground beef
    1 pound ground veal
    1 pound ground pork
    3 eggs, beaten
    1 cup breadcrumbs
    1/2 cup milk
    2 gloves of garlic, finely
chopped
    1/2 cup Italian parsley,
finely chopped
    1 cup pecorino romano cheese,
grated.
     
    1) Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.
    2) In a large bowl mix all the ingredients together
until thoroughly incorporated.
    3) Roll meat into a small, tight ball using the palms
of your hands (some people use a small ice cream scoop to get meatballs that
are all the same size).
    4) Place on a baking sheet.
    5) Bake for one hour, or until fully browned and
cooked through.  Allow to cool before eating (I know it’s hard).

Chapter 4
Ok, it’s been exactly 3 days, 16 hours, 36
minutes, and 57 seconds since Drew broke up with me.
    The bad news: he still hasn’t
called.
    The good news: Food Therapy
works. Last night after sitting on the bay for a few hours, I got tired of
thinking, so I walked over to the restaurant and cut myself a slice (or three)
of Chuck’s chocolate cake. It really did make me feel better, and it helped to
formulate a plan of action for operation Get-Drew-Back.
    Ok, here’s the thing. Drew
thinks we’re not compatible because I am just a lowly waitress/restaurant
manager working for my parents, while he is a big bad marketing executive (aka,
slave to the cubicle in some shitty office).
    Obviously, he doesn’t
understand just how much effort and expertise it takes to deal with people all
night long. Honestly, if he could only see            what
I do on a daily basis, he’d realize that I’m not some slacker, mooching off of
her parents, but a highly motivated, well rounded woman, capable of
multi-tasking and, eventually, achieving global domination. All of that, and I
can stand on concrete flooring in six inch heels for eight hours straight,
seven nights a week.
    Not that restaurant management
is my life’s dream or anything, but I am working with what I’ve got.
    So, my plan is simple. I’m
going to show Drew exactly what I do.
    And since tonight officially
kicks off our full time season, I’ll have plenty of opportunities to show him
my brilliance.
    The only glitch in the plan is
that Drew is in New York City and I’m on the Island, so how could he possibly
see what I’m doing?
    Other girls would end right
there. They’d throw in the towel and accept defeat. But not this girl. No way.
    In a sheer stroke of
brilliance I’ve decided to film myself in action, doing what I do.
    When I called Lucy at six this
morning to tell her the plan, she brought up the point that customers might not
want to be caught on film when they enter a restaurant. But I figure I can get
around that by blurring out faces, just like they do on reality TV. And once
I’ve gotten enough footage, I’ll post the videos on YouTube and email Drew the
link. Once he sees me in action he’ll be begging for me back.
    I can imagine it already.
    He’ll be at his desk at work
and open the YouTube link, thinking it’s stupid video of a cat dancing or some
other nonsense, and he’ll be mesmerized by me, in a Kelly green Theory dress (tonight’s
outfit), answering phones, greeting customers, flirting like a champ (hopefully
a cute guy will come in—that’ll make Drew jealous on top of proud), and
handling the unexpected situations that will surely arise. All while looking
fabulous (thanks to Gina’s crash course in make-up the other day).
    He’ll be so awe-struck, in
fact, that he won’t even hear his boss standing over his shoulder. And once he
does turn around, his boss will say “who’s that girl” to which Drew will
respond “my ex.” His boss will shake his head, confirming what Drew already
knows; that he lost a gem. Then his boss will say “she’s a star,” and send the
link to all of his bazillion contacts. The video will go