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kariachi · 8 years

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@mellenabrave

Fic for that idea I tossed out

Argi is fourteen when he overhears his mother telling to woman next door that the only one of the triplets who isn’t in prison isn’t going to college. That none of her children are, they aren’t smart enough.

He’s always gotten good grades, and with so little food spread between his siblings spite is about all that fuels him, so it surprises no one when he swears to prove her wrong.

At sixteen his entire year goes to what’s essentially a college fair, where school upon school has set up booths for the sake of young high school students. Argi makes sure to get information from all of them to browse later. He also looks into every scholarship he could possibly qualify for.

He spends four months putting every spare minute into research and applications. His mother scoffs, the young twins watch with interest- he makes sure to encourage them, as much for spite and love- and the rest of his siblings roll their eyes. Nobody thinks it’ll work, but they’ll allow themselves to be amused by his failure. He doesn’t let it get to him. He’s going places, whether they want him to or not.

Dear Argiñe,

Congratulations on your acceptance into the College of Arts & Sciences at Cornell University!

He makes sure to go to the Library and make ten copies, one for each of his family members, before he rubs his success in their faces.

“And how do you plan on paying for Ivy League, Princess,” Maria asks, and Argi just grins nastily at her.

“I’m selling you all to the mafia.”

He doesn’t sell them all to the mafia, and really his scholarship money and financial aid will cover the costs, but he does hock all his mother’s jewelry to pay the admissions fee.

What’s she going to do, report her stolen goods stolen?

The first person Argi meets turns out to be his roommate. Kevin Levin, a boy a year younger than him who also doesn’t know what he’s going to major in and feels his family can go fuck themselves.

“Honestly,” he says as he mucks about with their beds that first afternoon, somehow procuring wood posts and turning them each into top bunks so they have more floor space, “I only decided to go to college out of spite.”

Within four days he is not only Argi’s first friend, but his first love.

Intro to LGBT Studies also introduces him to a redhead, who sits right beside him in the front row. By the end of class she’s started bookmarking her textbook in relation to the syllabus and Argi has borrowed and chewed half apart one of her pencils.

They are immediate nemeses.

Her name is Gwendolyn and three days later she makes a move on Kevin while they’re all eating lunch. Argi knocks her upside the head with a folder.

Kai, from Kevin’s Intro to Native American Lit course, just about doubles over laughing.

Kevin swears they’re all the worst friends he’s ever had.

The food in the cafeteria is good, but some days they can’t help but yearn for something more. Traditional dishes. Homecooked meals. Argi and the girls often curse the “one appliance per dorm” rule.

Thankfully Kevin works miracles with a rice cooker.

“What do you mean you don’t have to take language classes?!”

“Red, I’m from Spain. They’re not gonna force me to learn another language. Now just show me where you’re getting mixed up. Refuse to let you guys suck at this.”

Gwendolyn went home for Thanksgiving, but the boys and Kai agree to skip the holiday altogether. Instead, Kevin takes over the common room and commandeers everyone’s appliances to fix up a Black Friday feast to shake souls.

“Fuck ‘em all, may they be trampled in their quest for a second rate plasma screen.”

“I’m gonna call that a call to immortality.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

They skype over winter break, while the girls visit home and the boys apartment-sit for a graduate student. It’s relaxing, for the most part. Argi is forced to study by the fact that Gwendolyn is still studying, and they’re all dying of envy at all the places Kai’s grandfather is taking her, but for the most part it’s songs over the holidays (Argi teaches them Venid Pastorcitos and Kai is still humming it come February) and everybody sending each other food.

Exactly the sort’ve tradition Argi can sink his teeth into.

GwennyWeatherwax: I found this site, apparently if you send in a dna sample they’ll figure out where your ancestors were from for you

keV: yeah and then they use it to make their evil half-dinosaur clone army, i’ve seen *this* movie before

GwennyWeatherwax: Geez, you try to help your friends…

Wifwolf: We already know what Kev is, G. Half-Oneida, half purely driven snow

keV: think the only thing me and dad have in common is hoping mom got a serious hangover from that bender…

Wifwolf: Im just amazed she thawed out in time to have you

keV: oh she didn’t

GwennyWeatherwax: Okay, okay, enough about Kev’s mom’s pussy please!

Erizo: if i hear one more joke about kevs moms pussy-

Erizo: would be nice to be something other than ‘brown’ tho

keV: how much?

GwennyWeatherwax: $100

GwennyWeatherwax: Each

Erizo: on the other hand brown is an awesome color

keV: yep

Wifwolf: We’ll put it on the ‘once we have cash to blow’ pile

They all sign up for physical education courses in their second semester, just to get them over with. Everyone is surprised when Gwendolyn ‘Beanpole’ Tennyson signs up for one of the martial arts courses and is immediately put into an advanced class. Kevin goes for what is apparently military bootcamp in an academic setting, because he isn’t already 6’2 and 200 lbs. of pure muscle.

Argi and Kai take Trap & Skeet together. At least this way if the others start shit they’ll have weapon proficiency on their side.

“Kevin, we are not taking cooking classes.”

“I cannot be the only person here who cooks!”

“Yes, yes you can. Forever.”

“Seriously, get a room or get boyfriends, because if you keep fighting like this people are going to get ideas.”

…

“Ewww!!”

“Kai no!!”

Finals week is hell, no matter what, but they all pass their courses. They all survive their courses, and each other, despite the odds against them. Yes, Argi and Gwendolyn aren’t allowed back in the Library until they’re 80, but overall their first year has been a success.

They’re all sitting in a booth at a pizza place in town, one Kevin has been raving about since the start of the year and none of them have had the chance to go to, celebrating their collective victory, when Argi motions them all together for a selfie. Everyone seems to understand what’s happening, crowding around him, arms over his shoulders. Kevin even pulls him into his lap, smirking as Argi goes red and the photo is taken. They all grin at him as he gives the image a once over before saving it.

He makes sure his baby sisters still have him friended before he puts it out on Facebook.

“Twenty bucks says I’m not the last Bustillo to go to school.”

“None of us are stupid enough to take that.”

“Damn.”

#fanfic

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kevwas-blog-blog · 7 years

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The Sommelier’s Tale. By Kevin Wash (F.O.S.)

I saw a great quote recently from Sir Richard Branson along the lines of, “ if you get offered a job and don’t know how to do it, take it and learn”.

Well, that’s kind of how my life was especially in my younger years, this story goes way back when.

I was living on a small Island which was famous for its food and wines, where I was working as a bartender in a pub mainly frequented by locals, one day one of them asked me if I was interested in a job, I didn’t know him but had seen him in there on a few Sunday evenings where he always seemed to be alone and spent his time watching the bar staff, in fact, I thought he was friend of the owner checking up on us.

It turns out he was the GM of a small local hotel that had a fabulous restaurant, his name was Alan Wynch, so along I go to meet with him to find out what his offer was going to be, possibly a cocktail barman, I had a very open mind.

“So Kevin, let me get to the point, I have been watching you for several weeks at the bar, you are very good with customers and very good with your Portuguese colleagues, I think I may have an extremely attractive proposition for you”.

I was keen to hear so let him continue, “ You know the Moorings Hotel and the famous Lobster Restaurant”? I nodded in agreement, who didn’t know the place famous for its shellfish viveur and also its saddle of lamb dish carved at the table.

“I would like you to be my new head waiter” Alan paused to see if this had registered with me, “ how does watching me pull pints tell you I could be your head waiter”? I enquired,

“ Good question Kevin, it’s more about the way you deal with your colleagues, I have a bit of a Portuguese mafia situation that I need to break, and think you are the perfect person to do it”

“Alan, it would take them 10 minutes to figure out I’m not even a waiter never mind a head waiter” (in fact my experience had been to help out a hotel over Xmas with its banquets, I was possibly the worst silver service waiter on the planet, great at serving potatoes, but nobody got any peas on my station!!)

“I’m not sure this would be such a good idea, they wouldn’t respect me, so I don’t think I can help”?

“I’ve thought of that, I’ve seen you serving wine at the bar, you are excellent at it, so I would introduce you as our new Sommelier, which is the number 2 behind the head waiter, so we would move you in gently”

(A sommelier, or wine steward, is a trained and knowledgeable wine professional, normally working in fine restaurants, who specialises in all aspects of wine service as well as wine and food pairing)

I have to say I was impressed with the deviousness of this idea, of course, I could serve wine, I had opened plenty of bottles behind the bar, Red White and even Rose.

“Ok Alan” I heard myself saying, “I’m your man”, wow would that statement come back to haunt me.

So a week or so later I rocked up at the Mooring’s Hotel collected my Burgundy jacket and commenced my career as a Sommelier in a fine dining establishment, the Portuguese lads were very friendly with me and quickly showed me my area of control, the wine cellar with over 700 different wines,

7 fucking hundred!!.

So much for Red White and Rose, when I saw the prices I was horrified, some of these were more than a month's wages for me, and I was in charge of this, in charge and alone.

The first few services were fine, quite simple, mainly regular clients taking the table D’Hote menu with wine by the glass, I was starting to feel confident, the lads would always offer me help with wine and I would help them with service, what mafia I was thinking.

Sunday lunch was a big event here, and on my first Sunday we had over 200 booked for lunch, I was busy getting ready when Alan put his head into my cellar, “everything OK Kevin” “ Fine Alan the lads are great with me and I’m starting to get my head around the wine list”

“Enjoy your first Sunday, by the way, you’re taking orders today as well as wine”

Well nothing like the deep end, at least the menu was fairly straight forward, I went to see my friends the chefs, they were cool as, nothing phased them, “you’ll be fine Kev, just done overload us”

Taking orders turned out to be exactly as I thought, pretty easy, then it was onto my wine, I had regulars who again knew what they wanted, so easy, take the order, find the bottle (that was a mission at times) take it to the table open, pour smile and leave.

Confidence can sometimes take us to places where talent hasn’t quite reached.

I was starting to feel a tad cocky with this Sommelier lark, in fact when one client asked me for a full bodied red, I selected one, a beautiful Rioja from one of the finest wine regions in Spain.

So when I started to pour the posho blabbered “Taste man taste”

“Don’t mind if I do sir” I replied, I poured myself a glass, and knocked it back in one, “Yup this is good stuff” I said as I continued to fill their glasses. I didn’t know why they (4 old farts) looked so shocked, the wine was red and good and not the most expensive, “Everything Ok” I asked.

The old guy could hardly speak, “The Taste the taste” “ yes bloody marvellous,” I said, “ I was supposed to taste it, not you”

Again he was blabbering and slightly foaming at the mouth, a particularly unattractive look at the best of times.

“But sir you specifically told me to taste, so I did and don’t worry it’s a fine drop of plonk”

“ you bloody fool I’m supposed to taste it, not you, you’re the bloody waiter” “Sommelier actually” “well your a bloody lousy one, go and get me another bottle”

“planning a bit of a sessh are we sir?, no problem I’ll crack another one and keep it on ice for you”

Some people are just never satisfied.

I walked away thinking that with his red face maybe knocking back a second bottle wouldn’t be such a great idea.

I also found out that day, that as acting head waiter, I was expected to help out and carve the famous saddle of lamb at client’s tables,

How difficult can this be I thought to myself? bloody nigh impossible would have been the answer if I had bothered to wait for a response.

I think I was slightly better than Edward Scissorhands would have been, but only just, mind you I have always preferred my lamb in unstructured lumps rather than thin slices, I felt that possibly some of my clients didn’t share my views on this, oh well, they will get used to me.

The kitchen didn't seem overly impressed with me either, normally a full saddle would serve 16-20, with my “rustic” style it was maxed out at 4…… I could hear the chef screaming from the kitchen,

“ 4… what the fuck is he doing out there”?

he was obviously pissed at somebody…

One particular posho had ordered the lamb for his group of 6, he called me over to the table,

“Sommelier, (at least he got my title right) I would like you to recommend a wine to go with the lamb,” “No problem sir, in fact it’s my speciality in the FOS” “What’s the FOS” he enquired “ Federation of Sommeliers, we meet monthly to look at new ideas and wine pairings, so you are in perfect hands”

It was complete bullshit but even I was impressed with this line, so posho sat down and ensured his fellow diners they were in for a fabulous wine to go with lunch, “recommended by the FOS no less” I heard him say.

I had overheard two of the waiters raving about a wine they had been drinking the previous night in their local Portuguese Restaurant and had managed to find it in my cellar, so off I went to this expectant group to allow them to enjoy the benefits of my rapidly improving knowledge.

Posho told me they had tried, several Burgundy's, Barolo’s Bordeaux's and even the odd Chateaux Lafitte, so they were very excited to see what I would recommend.

There is an old saying in the restaurant business “when the table is quiet the food must be good”. (I actually made that up as well)

I’m not sure the same principle applies to tasting wine, I didn’t bother with the tasting, especially after the fuss the last old boy had made, so instead just filled all of their glasses one after the other almost to the brim, I liked to serve a good portion.

There was an unusual silence from them, in fact, the roast potatoes and lamb on their plates made more noise, “what the devil is this” enquired posho “Vinho bloody Verde” ?? “ No sir this one is just Vinho Verde” excellent choice don’t you think”.

Long story short they really didn’t appreciate my visionary pairing, of a slightly sparkling very young very cold Portuguese white wine with a beautiful saddle of roast lamb.

I still don’t understand why…

Although I did hear him say rather unkindly,

“FOS, Federation of Sommeliers, Full Of Shit more like”….

The following day a very well turned out lady came in with three young men, probably around 15 years of age I would guess, she sat down and called me over, “Sommelier” these are my grandchildren and they will be taking over the family vineyard, we have been producing fine wines in our family for over 12 generations so I would like you to give them the benefit of some of your knowledge as only a Sommelier could. I’m sure you are very familiar with our wines”?

No idea, in fact absolutely not a clue who she was, I would shortly find out though.

“Of course ma’am, it will be my pleasure”

I should have run at that stage and realised this was going to be tricky and quite probably outside of my very limited skill sets, but that old devil called ego kicked in, and took me to places I really shouldn’t have gone.

My day hadn’t got off to the best of starts, One client had ordered steak tartare, when I asked him how he wanted it cooking, he seemed a tad perturbed, when he didn’t respond, he was mumbling and shaking his head about something, I said “shall we just go for medium”? seems my recommendation wasn’t what he expected and he started frothing at the mouth (a lot of unhealthy people seemed to frequent this establishment)

The chef’s (who had obviously figured me out) took great delight in this when I gave them the order.

So back to my Mystery Lady.

“Please bring us a bottle of each of your finest Pouilly Fuisse and Pouilly Fume”

So I scuttled into my cellar to try and find them, I didn’t even know what colour they were, eventually, I found out they were both White, French and quickly reading the label knew they came from the Burgundy region, and they were in my white wine fridge and should be served cold, bingo what more did I need.

“So ma’am, any preference in order”?

“Yes please Sommelier go for the classic style, however before that could you kindly explain the wines and grapes to the boys, they must learn what to expect on their tongues and noses”

Classic style, wtf was classic style?

Tongues, noses, they were about to have a drink, not a fight, I really didn't have a clue what she was talking about, however, me and my old friend self-confidence decide to go for it,

“It’s all about the soil, the Pouilly Fuisse is sometimes referred to as the water of the desert, this is because the grape is always planted on north facing slopes with a 30% Sahara sand compound in the soil, so you should taste the flavour of the Sahara in this baby, very dry and with a hint of dates and camel droppings, a perfect companion to chicken.”

“Now the Fouime (I was warming to this, as I could see I had these lads enraptured) this is a completely different ballgame, these grapes are hand turned 17 times per year by teenage virgins, always planted on a downward slope and always facing south, grapes originally imported from South Korea known as the cherry of white wines, a perfect pairing with rice pudding”

With that I poured them all a huge slosh into tall glasses, I thought topping them off with a tonic water was a classy touch, and said:

“get that down your necks lads”.

The boys seemed to be very happy and were busy chatting amongst themselves,

the lady took me to one side for a quite word (and probably a huge tip).

“Young man” she said (what happened to sommelier?) you are most definitely not a sommelier, in fact, I would dare go so far, as to say you know almost nothing about wines, however, you do tell a bloody good story, so thank you”

It was only later I found out she was, in fact, Dame Rothschild and actually one of the owners of the hotel, and co-incidentally my employer.

As sacking experiences went, this was one of my nicer ones.

The Portuguese mafia, well they certainly didn’t bother me, and they didn’t even have to get the horses head routine dusted off to see the back of me.

I really enjoyed the experience and even today when I listen to people pontificating about the qualities of various wines, it makes me smile when my wife points out to people that I was a Sommelier, they generally go very quite on the wine subject and just watch me.

I am now an expert at a tasting, I write reviews in my own inimitable style, but my true forte is drinking the stuff.

So Sir Richard I have to agree with you when in doubt blag it.

Bottoms up.

Kevin Wash

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freebetalerts-blog · 6 years

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Football Bet of the Day: Albacete to bring goals to Oviedo

(New post on FreeBetAlerts.com) - https://freebetalerts.com/2018/10/07/football-bet-of-the-day-albacete-to-bring-goals-to-oviedo/ #Football, #Freebets, #Tips

Football Bet of the Day: Albacete to bring goals to Oviedo Please share.

Tobias Gourlay’s signing off in Spain, where the relentless Clockwork Cheese can deliver more goals in one of this afternoon’s Segunda Division games

Oviedo v AlbaceteSunday 15:00

Empoli made it as difficult for Roma as we had hoped in Italy last night. The plucky Tuscans kept the capital giants to a single goal in each half and delivered Under 2.5 Goals at a plump price.

For the final bet of our double shift (Kev’s back tomorrow), we’re crossing the Med to Spain. In the Segunda Division, Oviedo are odds-on favourites to win at home to Albacete this afternoon, but we’re not sure they’ll have everything their own way. The hosts are winless in three attempts at Carlos Tartiere Stadium this season. They’ve conceded in all three of those matches and we fancy both teams to get on the score-sheet today.

Going back into last season, Juan Anquela’s hosts have conceded in 8/10 home games. Even when they were winning home matches last season, they were conceding: five of their last seven victories came without a clean sheet.

Albacete have scored and conceded in 3/3 away games this term, In fact, dipping back into last season, Both Teams to Score has landed in each of their last eight away matches. Over the last year or so, the Clockwork Cheese (yes, really) have delivered BTTS in 15/22. We think there’s enough here to make BTTS our bet of the day at better than even money.

2018 P/L (1pt per bet) Staked: 134ptsReturned: 146.45ptsP/L: +12.45pts

Please follow and like us:

#Football #Freebets #Tips

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griezeiro · 8 years

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French Connection

Still, the guys from Atletico Madrid could not believe that they had actually beaten one of their toughest opponents with 5-0. So they had rented a room in the hotel to celebrate the victory decently. The celebration had already started and Kevin just had to get outside, get fresh air and just get a little distance from everyone around him. The quick drinking had made him a little drowsy.

Gameiro went outside, leaned against the white facade of the house, and took a deep breath of warm air. The summer in Spain could be quite hot, sultry to unpleasantly hot, but the evenings were generally pleasant and today there was a cool breeze as well.

"Well, what are you looking for all alone?" Antoine lamented, still struggling to keep the balance on his feet.

"How many glasses of wine have you already drunk?" He pointed to the red wine glass in the hand of his French friend.

"Just a glass," he beamed.

"If that would be true, then you wouldn't be as drunk as you're right now" he took the glass carefully.

"I swear, this is the only glass", he sat down on the steps in front of the hotel "I have only repeated several times."

"How often?" He stroked him emphatically.

"Two or three times," he looked at him questioningly, but his friend just shook his head "Okay four times."

"Antoine" he exhorts him again.

He had a stern tone, but that was because he was concerned about his friend. He had never seen it as drunk as he had in the evening. Although no one was sober, even he had already had some drinks, but Antoine could barely go out, let alone say sensible sentences.

"Well, it was maybe 8 times," he sighed, but pouted and blinked at his friend "Do not be angry."

"Why should I be angry with you?" He smirked, feeling Antoine's head on his shoulder.

"No idea," he muttered, pulling at his sweater, which he had pulled over before he had followed Kevin Gameiro into the cold. "But I can say this was our game of the year" he chuckled. "Everything went smoothly, the passes, the flanks, just everything."

He was getting quieter and Kevin looked to the right, noticing his friend was just nodding.

"Maybe I should bring you to bed now."

"What?" He protested. "No, I do not want to go to bed."

Antoine stood up, made a few beats with his mouth and tried to dance, but this was resigned only with a laughing head shake.

"But you're ready for the bed. Tomorrow it will be back home, as with you "he wanted to push him only slightly, but Antoine lost the balance and fell foward. He landed with the knees on the edges of the steps, which actually hurt, but Antoine lost the ability to feel any pain when he had far too many drinks.

"Boy, you should go to bed."

"Okay Papa," he laughed, but refused to let himself be helped and brought to the room.

The route went quite well without further accidents, the other hotel guests did not see him. He wanted to save his friend from the fan community since he knew how they would gossip around that and talk about a whole new chapter about Antoine.

When he had gently laid him down and covered him, the young Frenchman shouted to his friend again.

"You're really a good buddy," he whispered, squinting a few times before sinking into a deep sleep.

"Good night," whispered Gameiro as he closed the door and even saw his friend Fernando Torres coming to himself, who was still the most sober of all.

"Is not that Griezmann's room?" He pointed to room 527.

"Yes, it is! I had to get him to bed, he had looked a little too deeply into the glass, "he forced himself to smile and was about to go to his room when the Spaniard stopped him again.

"Is everything okay?" Torres looked at him questioningly.

"All right, I just need my sleep. Last night had not been very long "he patted him on the shoulder, put the card in the slot and waited for the sound.

Then he opened the door, waved once again to Fernando, who still looked at him suspiciously, then closed the door behind him. When this was closed, he sank down, laid his head on his knees, and said, 'Sure, everything's alright' with a soft sob and two tears running down his cheeks.

~ * ~

The next morning he felt a little better, and luckily the alcohol had not left any lasting side effects. However, his friend Antoine Griezmann looked different. He sat alone in the corner in the breakfast room, headphones plugged in his ears and with a cell phone in his hand. Since he did not want to leave his friend alone, he went to the table with his tray and sat down.

"Well, are you better now?" He whispered as he could only guess what a bad headache he had now.

"Hi Kev" he croaked.

"Please take care," cried Simeone in the breakfast room, and seemed to be anything but enthusiastic. "The one who is responsible for the damage in my room, should rather stand up now or later. Otherwise, there are other ways to figure it out, and he will not just have to live with a blocking, but also with the kick out of the team. "

They all looked around, no one wanted to be the guilty one. Kevin looked around, too, but noticed that Antoine was the only one who was the busiest. It seemed to him very unpleasant at what Simeone was talking about and remained calm.

"You were that?" Kevin whispered to his friend, hoping not to know the answer yet.

"Kevin, do not take that personally, but I do not want to talk to anyone at the moment," he grumbled, took his tea and went outside.

He looked only sighing afterwards. Somehow he had no longer that there was still a connection between them two. Yesterday he was too drunk to talk to him about it and today he seemed to ignore him.

"Today, he seems to have lost his good humor", Yannick Carrasco sat down next to the French.

Even the Belgian had his problems to reach the young French, but he was less so desperate as Gameiro was.

"Yes," he sighed.

He knew when it would come out that his friend had committed the act, he would never play football again. He did not want to allow that, so he decided to take the blame. He should rather go than his gifted friend. He was conscious of the fact that Diego Simeone did not like him anyway, since he rather wanted to send him to another team. So it was the best for him to end his career this way.

~ * ~

"I do not want to disturb," cried Kevin Gameiro to Antoine Griezmann, who was sitting on a bench in front of the hotel. "But I just wanted to say goodbye."

He turned his head to him and saw how disillusioned his friend was.

"We'll see each other in two weeks, so why are you creating that scene now?" He grumbled and asked him to sit down.

"We will not meet again, anyway not on the pitch."

"Are you leaving the team? What? Why? "He seemed rather confused about the rapid change.

"So you can see that" he cleared his throat "I told Diego that I was in his room. He kicked me out, and now I'm going home, "he shrugged, but he held back more tears.

"Why did you do that? You were not and ... "

"Yes, I saved your ass. I know that you were the one who had done all of this, but I do not want you to throw away your talent through the stupid act. You deserve better. I would have gone anyway, since he does not like me. "

"I can not accept it," he stood up, but was stopped. "I can not leave it that way. Kevin you've done a lot for me and more than I can ever give you back. But I will change that. Whether you want to stop me or not, you've become like a kind of brother to me. "

"You wanted to go to Manchester United and now you can reach your dream without any trouble stopping you.”

"This is not true. I'm not going without you. We are the French connection.”

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