So Aunt Chrissy and I decided to drop off some food at the Neighbors in Need Food Drive over at the TeeVee station, and afterwards I asked her if we could grab a bite to eat. Since we were driving in that direction, we kinda' both looked at each other and said "Hey, let's go to AppleFreakinBees. We never go there, so let's give it a try."
We pulled into the parking lot with great anticipation. I mean, come on. It's AppleFreakinBees. How hard could this be?
I. Want. To. Die.
BAD table, BAD service, and even WORSE food. It was so bad that I did something I have never ever done in my whole entire life. I complained. I marched myself right over to the manager and said "Please take this check and run my credit card immediately so that I can get out of this restaurant before my head explodes."
He wanted to discuss. I did not. Suffice it to say, he handed me back my credit card, told me he was sorry for the bad experience, and sent me on my way.
Although I should have been very proud of myself for taking the flashing DOORMAT sign off of my forehead for once, I was physically shaking and didn't stop doing so until Aunt Chrissy dropped me off and I made it into the house muttering to myself that I will never ever ever never go out for dinner again. Ever.
Now, in order to fully appreciate the full magnitude of this, you should probably know that I am what can only politely be described as as IDIOT when it comes to going out to dinner and leaving a tip. I am rather famous for leaving tips in the 70-80% range, and I have even been known to leave a $10 tip for a $5 meal. I am EXTREMELY thankful for anybody who works as a waiter or waitress, since I know that I would never be able to do it, so I try to show my gratitude with my tips. I also really appreciate a good meal. The problem is, however, that I have gotten so accustomed to doing this, that I will leave a big tip even if the meal and/or service sucked. (Note: I was fully prepared to leave a 20% tip last night, even. Silly, silly me.)
You should also know that I am incapable of speaking up for myself. As a matter of fact, I was physically pushed OUT OF THE WAY of the new chart bins at my LNS once by a very tiny little woman who apparently needed to see these charts worse than I did. AND! Instead of saying "Pardon me, madam, but I will be happy to move when I'm damn good and ready", I stumbled away thinking "Wow, she sure must have had her Wheaties this morning to get ME out of the way". See? Doormat. So for me to actually speak up about something that was displeasing to me was MONUMENTAL!
I hearken back to living in Margate, New Jersey. I had just moved into my little condo and decided to walk down to the local grocery store for some provisions. I asked for a half-pound of ham at the deli but got roast beef instead. And I stood there looking at the package fretting over what to do about it when a lady started bitching at the deli guy that the sliced meat that he was pulling out of the case was too fatty and that he had better not even THINK about giving it to her, when I wondered why I couldn't be more like her. Despite living there six years and seeing that lady on a regular basis, I never caught on. Sigh.
I also hearken back to something somebody told me once about Mom. Before you jump to any conclusions, you should know that Mom was one of the loveliest people you would ever want to meet, and I don't think I heard her say a negative thing about or to anybody about anything at all. Ever. So after she passed away, one of my friends said "You know, your mom was one of those kinds of people who could tell you to go to hell and you'd look forward to the trip." He went on to explain that if she was unhappy about something, she had a way of calmly and politely telling you how you were going to fix it and make the world a better place in the process. So why didn't I get THAT gene?
Fast forward to about 8pm: Projectile up-chucking, combined with what I assumed to be an aneurysm. I spent the night on the bathroom floor wishing for a sharp object to stab into my eye repeatedly. All I can figure is that my brain decided to have a sinus migraine at the exact same moment my tummy decided to say adios to whatever the hell I made the mistake of eating the last eighteen years. Oey.
Today is hangover day. Stewey and I are in fresh jammies with some Peppermint Tummy tea and dry toast. The headache is down to a dull roar, but I'm talking nicely to it in the hopes that it will go away. Forever.
So forgive me, please. I don't have anything stitchy to report. I do, however, want to THANK YOU ALL from the bottom of my dehydrated little heart for your fabulous comments on "Strawberry Garden" and your suggestions about the Poofy Hearts.
More later.....we promise.