…and still kickin’.
Thanks to all of the folks who have expressed their support for me in this endeavor of mine to kick the habit, your wrods have been very much appreciated. And you’re right, Beth, I am a tough old S.O.B. – just don’t tell my mother I said that about her, she’ll kick my ass :)
To Tolerant, I apologise for my driving. Hopefully I’ll calm down a bit before I scare you completely out of my car.
To the dark-haired waitress at My Father’s Place this morning: that’s right, I tipped you a measly $2 this morning. When you take 30 minutes to even get us menus and take our order, and then don’t bother to deliver my coffee until the food gets there (20 minutes later) and can’t manage to find our orange juice until we are done eating… yeah. Get your ass in gear woman. I realize the Place is a dive bar, but c’mon. I’ve never had service that bad there. Honestly, the guy who came in ten minutes after us and sat down at the table next door had his food delivered before you could bother to take our order. Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot?
To the cooks: I’m guessing you were having a bad day, but here’s a critique: the Hollandaise sauce was too thick, the eggs were poached too long and the hash browns were almost burned. Since the hash browns usually come almost raw, this may actually have been an improvement. How ’bout we find a happy medium?
Okay, that’s enough bitching for now. The next post will have some more upbeat content, I promise.
Hollerings