God gave me this gift,

and I’ve used it for evil.

Tupac, Jr.

There are two aspects of the restaurant business that most people probably don’t pay much attention to; longevity and age. In every restaurant there is a pretty large group of people who have worked there for a long time (I’m talking three years or more) and all of them started out young and fresh-faced. Most of us were initially attracted to the obvious allure of walking out of work with a hundred dollars in cash every night, and it’s that same greedy appetite that keeps us from leaving long after our doe eyes have been replaced with dark cynical marbles of hate. However, the advantage of obtaining a job young and staying after puberty has passed is the unforgettable experience of watching your coworkers grow up and find their respectable places in life. The majority of servers use the restaurant as a stepping stone between college and adulthood and all are welcome to watch as they find their passions in life, move on to “real” jobs, get married, etc. Sometimes, however, people move on to places you never saw coming, which brings us to the story of Shane.

Shane started working with us during his sophomore year of college as a pre-med student. With strangely pre-pubescent looks and an easy-going demeanor, it was hard to hate him. That’s not to say everyone liked him, as the hyenas that run our restaurant make it a point not to like anyone, but no one hated him. Especially since a conversation with Shane is akin to having a conversation with your three-year-old cousin. Everything you say is hilarious. I’m talking mouth-open, eyes closed, legs bent laughing out loud hilarious. And I do mean everything. You make a funny face, he giggles. You tell a racist joke, he spits on himself. You bring toilet humor to the table, and Shane is rolling on the floor. Surprisingly though, Shane doesn’t just find fart jokes funny. He even catches on when you accidentally let some type of intelligent wit slip out of your mouth, which makes your chances of seeing this kid shit himself laughing even higher. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a confidence booster. I’m a real George Carlin around this kid. And it’s not even like he’s faking it to make friends. Shane is so genuinely amused that you’re legitimately afraid he’s going to burst blood vessels in his eye lids or puke on himself. But, in order for someone to be so easily amused there has obviously got to be something wrong him, right? Well, spend five minutes talking to Shane and you begin to understand why to him every day is like having front row seats at the Apollo.

Shane likes to smoke weed. In fact, he loves it. It’s all he talks about. He was so high yesterday, so high this morning and Lord as my witness, he’ll be high tonight. Shady characters walk in through the side door and Shane’s shaking their hands and calling them “bro” before buying a bag or two out of their oversized sweatpants pockets.  He might just be a savant because he’s the only person I know who can get blazed out of their mind before taking a three-hour anatomy exam and still walk out with the highest grade in the class. I tried to keep up with him one night and smoked an entire blunt of some type of weed he gave me. By the end of the night I could see sounds. So, credit where credit is due. He’s obviously intelligent, but he’s also really, really dumb.

Now, Shane lives a good life. His dad’s a psychiatrist and his parent’s can afford to buy him anything he wants. He lives in one of those million dollar mini-mansions and has never felt the pang of need in his life. Yet, he still works. Not only does he work, but he shows up on time, gives it his all and is always offering a helping hand. This is something I can respect, because to be honest I wouldn’t have been at that restaurant for three years if I didn’t have to be. And it’s not like he has to work just to support his drug habit. His parents smoke more weed than you do. It’s nothing he has to hide. Shane just has a good work ethic, which is probably why he’s going to be a stellar dental student and make millions of dollars himself.

Nestled high in his little kingdom our hero, Shane the pre-dental Russian Jew, can’t even hear the roar of the New Jersey Transit through his double-glass windows, let alone see anything resembling a skyscraper. The only experience he’s ever had with “rough streets” was a scraped knee after eating it on his rollerblades. But, as previously mentioned, Shane does smoke weed. Not only does he smoke weed, but he likes to have sex. He once told me this story of a time when he was taking a girl’s virginity and she had started begging him to stop because “it hurt”, and so he grabbed the headboard and pummeled the broads vagina until he was covered in her blood.  (Yeah, he might be a bit of a sociopath, but at least he can laugh about it). Not only does Shane smoke weed, have sex and make women bleed, but he also wears his baseball caps to the side. If you don’t see where this is going you’re just not using Shane’s definition of logic. Seeing as he has all these great hobbies and he knows how to speak English, Shane took the next obvious step in life and decided to become a rapper. I shit you not.

This is the story parents should tell their kids when they’re giving them the “Stay off of drugs” speech because it is more than obvious that Shane has most definitely suffered some type of brain damage. You see, as he was sitting on his patio one day, fantasizing about all the street-cred he’s about to get, Shane realized he needed a really amazing rap name. I’m talking a panty-drenching, gangster-scaring, record-deal obtaining name that screams “I’m Shane and my rhymes are going to melt your face off!” And just what name did our little hoodrat come up with? None other than Lil’ Booby. Again, I shit you not. Its decisions like this that give us the Carrot Top’s of the world. Some dumb-ass douche bag with a terrible idea that everyone just loves to hate.
My friend Dave had the best response to this terrible, awful, no good very bad name. When he heard Shane talking about his new dream of being a rapper and that he had finally decided on a name, Dave said, “Listen, before you tell me know that no matter what it is I’m going to make fun of you. So you better just hope it’s at least somewhat respectable. Now, go on.”  (EDIT: I DON’T REALLY REMEMBER WHAT DAVE SAID SO THIS NEEDS TO BE FIXED)
Shane responded, “Lil’ Booby.”
Dave responded, “ LIL’ BOOBY?! Why the hell would you call yourself Lil’ Booby? No one likes little boobies! At least call yourself big booby…”  But I digress, because now that Lil’ Booby had found his true calling, he needed to start writing something that would really get him the respect he deserved. And he did. In fact, he wrote this one rap in only a few hours and spent the rest of the day “rereading it over and over until I had it memorized.” It was thirty seconds long.

I wish I could rewrite his debut rhyme word for word but my mind was so blown that I was only able to remember a few things. For instance, his name is Lil’ Booby and he does rock, and all the ladies want to suck his cock. Also, he makes it rain. He goes to the clubs with his friends and drinks alcohol. And sometimes, he cums on girls and makes them take it. (This is debatable as many believe he’s the one getting his cavities filled… if you know what I mean). In retrospect, my mind might not have so much been blown as it was trying to turn my ears off.

There is another Jewish rapper at our store (yeah, apparently it’s a thing). The only difference is that guy is literally amazing. He’s more like the King of Words than a rapper. He’s the type of person who could even make Kanye embarrassed. Lil’ Booby swears he’s going to collaborate with the King. Yeah, King’s people will get back to you Lil’ Booby. So, if you are ever surfing around online and come across a free download for an album by someone named Lil’ Booby, keep surfing. There are far better ways to spend the minute it would take for you to download it, and other types of things you can use your hard drive’s memory for. Like porn. Or the first season of Wings. Or a three-hour lecture by John Kerry. Or anything, really.

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