I was treated to dinner tonight by the love of my life, Jules. I'm from the old school and was never even capable of letting a woman buy my meal until Julie..
Julie brought me into the 21st century with things like HD TV and iPods and some radio station that plays hip hop, whatever that is? I'm progressing nicely and will soon stop opening the car door for Jules, maybe tomorrow, we're suppose to go shopping.
(Shopping didn't happen. I called Mel at 1 PM ready to take on Costco, but he whined about the freeway being closed or some such thing. So when he laments later on about plans falling through, we all know who is to blame.)
Evidently Julie has edited my story, is nothing sacred? This should be a lesson to you people, NEVER SHARE A PASSWORD!
So I take off for the West side of town about 45 minutes early in hopes of getting there in time to harass Julie while she's getting dressed, but to my surprise, my old friend the 101 is CLOSED for repairs! After 40 minutes of driving, I found myself at 56th Street and Bell where I live and calling Julie to pull my remaining hair out. She's VERY sympathetic and yells into the phone, "Good, I'm not ready" and then something about her hair and hangs up on me. That's my girl!. I take surface streets the whole way there and drive the 17.6 miles in utter disgust, being slowed down and cut off by every asshole from Rhode Island that ever vacationed in AZ!
I pull up into Julie's 3 car driveway diagonally with my Expedition, because I know that pisses her off. I opened the front door with my key, so as not to disturb her as she was pretty upset with that hair thing, but she finished by opening it from inside yelling to me, "Don't you ring the bell anymore"? She looked HOT, sizzling HOT. She was wearing her new $98 black jeans from the Black and White Store, a boutique and a low cut white cotton top and 3 inch heels, bringing her up to a tantalizing 5' 9 or 10".
While I used the restroom after complaining about the traffic, Julie called The Firebird Rocky Mountain Grill and made a reservation, particularly after last weeks fiasco with no reservations. We headed out after telling them we'd be there in 15 minutes and we were. We walked right to the front desk and were told there was about a 15 minute waiting period. We explained that we had reservations and were told the people without reservations were waiting 20 to 30 minutes! We went to the bar where we were served by a young man that opened his mouth but nothing came out. He was either mute or the background noise was so loud we couldn't hear him, I think it was the latter. After 3 attempts to get the bartender to hear us, Julie ordered a Pinot Grigio and I had club soda. Immediately, our little beeper started flashing and we went to the hostess to be seated. I abhor those things, don't you? Beepers, not hostesses.
We went to a rather large room that reminded me of a Sizzler and were seated. We then were immediately accosted my a rather youthful man looking about 15 named Adam. We HATED Adam. Don't ask why, but Adam was just one of those personalities that you want to hate. He stares a little too long, then he asks a question and laughs at the wrong time in a sentence, just a hateful little guy. Before we looked at our menus and we had been seated all of 15 seconds, Adam wanted to know if we'd decided yet? We sent him away, never really seeing him again, or so it seemed. I tackled the bus boy to get some bread and we were served a rather large hamburger bun with crack down the center resembling an ass. Although it was awful, just mushy white bread, it served as a good laugh. I offered to offer it to the people behind us they were without service too. Where the hell was Adam? Julie gave me my first shoulder punch of the evening.
We decided on the prime rib for Jules and I was going to have a rib eye, rare. It was steak night at the Sizzler! Although the menu offered fine dining pricing, the food was poor at best. When Adam finally showed up, he mentioned something about a major spill (it might have been the Valdez) and he apologized for his invisibility. WHATEVER, let's order. Naturally they were already out of Prime rib, so Julie ordered a rib eye too. When the food came and they were quick, the steaks were (raw) rare, but that was a good thing. Mine was loaded with grizzle and fat and pretty tough. Julie, who seldom complains said the same and started to share my steak fries, as her loaded baked potato resembled a rubber ball on a 90 degree day. When Jules asked how my steak was, I told her one word that got my message across, Safeway. It was like any steak you might buy on sale at Safeway. Tough, grizzled and poorly seasoned. I ask for A-1 sauce, a real no, no with me and steak. After both of us fighting our way through the 2 steaks, we surrendered to a higher power, Pawpaw. Julie's dog was going to reap the benefits of our dinner for sure. The only good laugh we had, other than Adam, was while we were at the height of complaining to one another about how bad everything was, a hostess came up to us and asked if everything were okay? Simultaneously we both parroted, GREAT!
I've complained about Julie's over tipping before. This time, Julie handed me the check to sign and put one of cheapass tips on. The check was $56 and I put down an $8 tip. That was plenty for Adam. For the signature, I wrote Cheapass Fisher!
We've agreed to go to Scottsdale next week and enjoy the atmosphere and higher pricing. Believe me, it's worth it. I hope Adam doesn't have a brother in Scottsdale!