If I were a rich man

So Mermanda said “urinal cakes” on my blog yesterday and I seriously had to LOL. Then I tried for about four minutes to imagine what one smells like. I’m not much for smelling toilet drains but I REALLY like the smell of cake. So that could be half good right?

What do you think about going to the movies alone? It’s kind of cool and okay right? I mean, while you’re at the movie, you’re not supposed to be engaging in camaraderie. Remember, because the commercial at the beginning with the talking cup tells you not to talk, text, have a baby, scream, breath or unwrap candy. I actually think the movies would appreciate it MORE if people went alone more often. I am going to start a “Going to the Movies Alone is Cool Club” except we won’t actually meet. We’ll just all go to separate movies and blog about how much fun it was. These are the movies I don't want to see with anyone (except myself) over the next few months...

The Ugly Truth

Time Travelers Wife

Julie & Julia

Tonight is restaurant week. Which means really expensive restaurants that we could never otherwise afford let us coupon clippers indulge in 3-course meals for $20.09 (2009, get it?). We can get dressed up and pretend like we’re are part of the upper class elite society while dining on fillet and washing it down with crème brulee. I’m going dressed as Posh Spice tonight and pray that the waitress doesn’t roll her eyes when she see’s my gnarled, un-manicured nails. We’ll pretend that husband is a real life doctor and balk about how we can’t possibly order a full bottle of wine and probably rather share a glass tonight because he has to get back to the hospital to save lives and cure cancer. AND, AHEM. YES, that is a Kroger Plus Card in my wallet and YES I need a box for this remaining piece of bread and lemon wedge.

There are certain things in life you just cannot enjoy

DH says that the croc blog was the worst one I have written in a while. Apparently now he is a blog critic and wants to judge the mindless writing I do when I’m supposed to be doing other things [like working]. You, internets, can attest to the fact that blogging is hard! Well, the actual act of posting a blog is not hard per say, but thinking of something to blog about [that might be worth reading] is difficult [Hence why one of Jennie's blogs was titled Worst.Post.Ever where she was forced to list the contents of her purse.] Once you think of something, then you have to put on your embellishing, creative, witty hat and make an ordinary situation [like your secretary digging out her ears with a paperclip right in front of your face] well, entertaining.

It’s been hard lately [that's what she said] because, not much is new in married life. We got all our money back [back from the bank, not back from Juan], I went back to work, and DH started his OB rotation yesterday [hoping to post a funny story or two from that in the next few weeks.] I’m not pms’ing, so my raving psychoness isn’t going to come out for another few weeks [in other words it’s hard for me to write a tidbit bashing my coworkers or mindless retail employees] So I am at a loss.

The only thing I can think of is this strange interaction we had at a restaurant last week.

Scene: Two gorgeously attractive married people are having dinner with friends at a restaurant they cannot afford. Luckily it’s Dayton Restaurant Week and they will each be ordering the fillet special for $20.08. [Much to the disappointment of the overzealous waitress. Wait, she comes now…]

Worst waitress ever: Would you like to order an appetizer?
Me: I just sat down thank you, I would like to look at the menu.
Worst waitress ever: The seafood platter appetizer is my absolute favorite, I’ll get your drink. [walks away]
Me: SHIT! No wonder it’s her favorite, its $95! [for an appetizer mind you]

(later)

Me: blah blah blah story about something interesting
Worst waitress ever: EXCUUUSE me, but are you done enjoying your bread plate?
Me: What?
Worst waitress ever: Are you done enjoying it?
Me: Take it.

(later)

DH: Blah Blah Blah boring story
Worst waitress ever: EXCUUSE me sir, but are you done enjoying?
DH: [staring at COMPLETELY EMPTY plate with knives and fork off to the side]
Worst waitress ever: Sir? Are you done enjoying?
DH: [again staring at COMPLETELY EMPTY plate, looks up] well, there's not much left to enjoy.

After she interrupted every conversation we had, tried to sell us $17 GLASS of wine [her fave!], told us she thinks teachers should make more money than doctors because they’re more important, blabbed on about her aspiring career in medical massage, and asked us if we were DONE ENJOYING everything on the table – we were finally frickin done. We left thinking about how wonderful the meal was, how we could never afford to come back, and plotting ways to kill that damn waitress. Seriously, how do you ENJOY a bread plate? And why in the hell would you use that phrase? Unfortunately for her, she is doomed. She sucks at waitressing and can you imagine this conversation:

Worst Massage Therapist Ever: My fingers are done enjoying your back.
Worst Massage Therapist Ever: Are you done enjoying your towel?
You: What did your fingers enjoy under the towel?
Worst Massage Therapist Ever: Are done enjoying?
You: Goodbye.