Saturday, May 13, 2006

Insanity and the Restaurant Rant

So, Friday was not a good day for me. I came home early from work and went to sleep on the couch until it was time to get the kidlet from school and head to the big city (snort) to get hubby's comix and some things from the grocery store. His cheese, to be specific. Hubby has this strange addiction to cheese that cannot be explained by normal piggishness.

Anyway, I didn't wake up well at all. I was disoriented, angry and plain mean with it. Like a bear right out of hibernation, if you must know. I wanted to bite and rend and tear people to shreds, starting with my poor innocent hubby. He just looked bewildered, hell, I felt bewildered.

I'm going to be optimistic and blame it on the change that is surely looming on the horizon. Dammit, it's been more than 20 years, I want a gold watch! I want to retire from bein a 'girl' as my coworker puts it. Hell with that, I want it to all just go away. Like the bills to music and book clubs you regret joining and can't get out of, like a freakin cult. Hotel California, in the form of literary and musical entrapment. 1cent for five hundred CD's.. you can check out any time you like, but you can nevah leaaave!!

*blinks* Where was I? Oh, yes. Anyways, I open my eyes and yell that he must see his family visiting from out of state. I am most insistent about it, to the point where he begins to back away. I fix my coffee and get in the back seat.. so daughter can drive. *gack* I rant the whole entire way to town.. during town.. in town.. in Hellmouth (that is nothing new, but a diff rant entirely) and out.

He goes to that terribly nasty chicken finger place that just opened, and I rant about that too. Them chicken strips taste like crap. No seasoning (in comparison to the Popeye's *drool*) and the sides are limited to greazy crinkle cut french fries *ew* cole slaw *double ew* and some rank nasty sauce. These last two things are mayo based. I despise mayo unless I am the one applying it to some sort of salad aka tater, chicken, tuna etc. Then and ONLY then will I deal with it. Otherwise, it's the devil's own tool to give you salmonella. Anyways, so, he goes there, which pisses me off. I go to places that we both like, and he LOVES this place, so he goes, it's fine. It's also new and it will wear off eventually, I know this as well. I'm ok with it.

He's getting me a hair cut for Mother's Day.. sweeet.. then he gets all huffy cause he has to wait.. pfth. I get the cut (love it!!) and want to go to a sandwich place to get somethin to eat. He has said, he's buying me this then, balks at it.. one more pissed off nail in the nookie coffin for you bud.

I go into this place, hubby is right behind me, amazon daughter looms over my shoulder. She won't miss an opportunity to get some out of the house food, no matter than she's already eaten. Well, hubby goes to the car, still angry that I've got NO hair.. *snickers*

Which brings me to my problem... yes FINALLY!! Hush..

I get to the counter. "Hi, can I get you something?" First off, I'm in here, I'm looking at the menu, duh, dumbass.. yes, I'm just here to soak up the atmosphere and sniff the food. *rolls eyes* However, he keeps talking, and I mean, he never shuts up. I don't understand one word in three what he says.. He asks if it's to go. I let my daughter order first and just watch him. He's scaring the crap out of me. He's strange, I mean smokin crack on the break strange.

He asks, is this together? Yes.. Is yours (daughter's) to go? yes.. Is yours (me) to go? Well no shit Sherlock! They're together, and if one is to go, both are! *takes a realllly deep breath* He still keeps talkin.. I wonder if he has Tourette's which makes me feel bad for getting pissed off. Then I realize, he don't have it, he's just et up w/the dumbass as my mama would say.

I tell him my order, (steak sannie w/the addition of avacado) he blinks at me. We don't have avacado... I point and inform him he does.. he laughs at me and informs me that guacamole is NOT avacado. I say, then what is it? I realize that there are recipes that make guacamole from English peas (ew) and/or asparagus, so I ask, as thats some good shit and if so, I'm having it from those things. He informs me its made of guacamole.

Dear God in heaven, he's out his damned mind. I tell him that yes, guacamole is made from avacados. He doesn't believe me. And then, he gets all freaked that I want it on my sandwich. I mean totally freaked. I say, hey, if it's extra, I'm happy to pay, no prob. He goes no no it's just weird. You're weird. I let that slide.. and say, this, Is the soup.. he interrupts me NO! rudely.. LOL.

Exsqueeze me? Look, asshole, you put that freakin sannie through this glorified pizza oven and when it gets to the other side, you slather it up w/the avacado stuff and then you put it in the bag, got it? And, give me a cup of broc/cheese soup, pronto! He still talks not quite under his breath the WHOLE TIME! Momo has backed away, sensing the imminent eruption of Mamalava that is bout to happen.

He's still talkin, putting the sannies together, but still just continuously talking. Hubby's in the car, too far for me to call in for the purposes of intimidation. I am aware that I don't look scary. I'm short, plump and for some reason, people think me cute and sweet til they get to know me *weg*

Finally, they get my stuff in the bag. He laughs and slides the cup of soup in there too. The cashier gives him a strange look and I pity her for having to deal with him all freakin day. HA! We are going down the road.. I leave my soup in the bag, as that's shit's hot... usually.. when I've eaten half my sannie and felt I've given it long enough to cool, I take it out.. it is ICE COLD!

We are too far away to go back. Rest assured, WE would have. I would have stormed the gates of that place, pulled that crack addict out from behind that counter and beat the dog sh*t out of him for daring to mess with me and more importanly, my food. However, do not think, I won't stop back in there this coming Friday and lodge a complaint. He was rude, stoned, and just plain aggravating. Screwing with a redneck girl's food is one of the seven deadly sins... deadly to HIM that is.

Killer of Crackheads

P.S. I won't name the damn restaurant, but those dead gerbils would have been less of an aggravation than this twinkie.


Karen said...

I want to know which restaurant this is! As in White Chicks, like Oh MY GOD, you had a BF and now you must write a letter!!! Why must these places hire Jeff Spicolli assholes to man the counters? I am still laughing, though, at the vision of you trying to leap over the counter and throttle the poor boy.

yola said...

and a happy momma's day to you, too, lol. I hear ya wit da clubs, sisterfriend. like i didn't just buy $80 worth of cd's from bmg. it's the only place I can find music from my good old days. D says I work just to pay for my books & cd's. as it should be. let him pay all the boring stuff*smirk*, after all he's the man (yeah, right)