--My parents returned home yesterday, and there’s reason to
believe the Season of Way Too Much might be winding down.
Yeah, there’s talk of a visit from Sunshine in October, but I
don’t think it’ll happen.She’s
the proverbial boy who cried bitch; she’s planned numerous visits
this summer and backed out of every one of ‘em -- always finding
someone to blame along the way.What’s
to make us believe this one will be any different?
I think we’re going to West Virginia for Thanksgiving, and God knows who will be piled up here for
Christmas.But all that
stuff is a long time from now.At
the very least, the month of September should be normal.
And I’m craving normal.Oh,
I’m craving it real good.
--It feels weird to have
had visitors, and not be sitting on a notebook full of horror stories.But that’s the situation.My parents are pretty agreeable, and go out of their way not to
be a pain in the ass.
Sometimes, in fact, they take it too far.For instance, if you’re looking for an opinion on what to do
for dinner, you may as well forget it. ‘Cause they ain’t sayin’
nothin’.
“Whatever’s fine with us,” is the standard non-helpful reply.
But that’s nit-picking.The
weekend was almost completely painless, especially compared to some of
the other adventures we encountered this summer.I apologize in advance.
--On Friday night my Mom
and Dad had pizza with the Secrets, and Toney and I went out for a
rare dinner alone.
We opted for an “Irish pub,” a place called Kildare’s.I think it’s part of a small local chain, and is good stuff.We’d been there a couple of times with the younglings, and
the food was always better than anticipated.A little too pricey for regular visits, though…
This time I listened to the waiter mumble and drone his way through an
extensive list of draft beers available, only understanding about 40%
of what he said.I’m
almost certain he said something about Hnnnn pale ale, but I could be
wrong.
I went with Boddingtons to start.Big mistake.The
shit was flat, and tasted like motor oil – or what I imagine motor
oil tastes like.I
considered sending it back, but it wasn’t quite terrible enough to
make an issue of.So I
just choked it down.
For dinner I ordered shepherds
pie, and it was very good indeed.I’d never had it before, but was always intrigued.As mentioned, I’m a big fan of lots of foods mixed together,
and shepherds pie certainly fits the bill.I scarfed that baby down like a professional Japanese hotdog
eater.
The waiter, who made me seem
animated, snatched my plate away and asked if we wanted dessert.We said no, but we wouldn’t mind another beer each; Harp
Lager this time ‘round, if you wouldn’t mind...
But apparently he DID mind.The dude clearly didn’t approve, and brought the check with
our second beers.Translation:finish up and get out.
The hell, man?!I’d been
planning on three or four pints.I
wondered if he was some kind of religious fanatic, and Toney said,
“Well, if he has a problem with people drinking, I don’t think
he’d be working at an Irish pub.”She guessed he more likely had some kind of problem with
“us.”And in this case
us meant you, and you means me. Or whatever.
Who the crap knows?The
guy sucked as a waiter and was tipped accordingly.To quote my mother, circa 1964 through 1972, “I’ll give you
something to cry about.”
While we sipped our Harps reeeeal
slow, so as to piss off the Beer Abbreviator, Toney became fixated on
a kid who was either “retarded or poorly-behaved.”And that’s how our romantic dinner alone ended, with us
observing and offering opinions on this pressing matter.
Consensus:poorly-behaved.Closing quote from Toney:“The
little shit needs his ass kicked.”
I’m sorry, I’m getting a little emotional here…
--Hopefully it’s not
too noticeable, but I’m having real trouble with this update.Sweet sainted mother of Suzy Chapstick... I’ll
leave you now with a freakin’ motherlode of Smoking Fish sightings,
right here, and
here, and
here.
Thanks to everyone who sent them in!Very cool.And if I
missed any, please let me know.My
email is all jacked-up, and I’m fairly confident stuff is getting
lost.Drop me a note to
thewvsr (at) gmail dotcom, if something got past me.
Finally, a half-assed Question of the Day:what’s your worst waiter/waitress experience?Have you ever tipped a nickel, or anything like that?Use the comments link below to tell us about it, won’t you?
And I’ll try to get back on my game tomorrow.
See ya then, boys and girls.
Big deal. So I beat the crap
out of a mime? Who hasn't?
--