I love, love, love eating out. It's such a cool thing to be served, isn't it? They do all the work and you just sit there and enjoy what they've created on your plate. I was a server for a short time. I am also without a doubt the worst server on the planet. I have zero upper body strength to carry those stupidly heavy trays. I worked in a martini/tapas bar and I can't even remember how many martinis or glasses of wine I dropped. Those fuckers are top-heavy!
|This was an awesome movie and I highly recommend it. It's called Waitress. So good!|
By the time our perky little server named, Lexi (or something else equally bubbly), comes by to take our order, I have somehow transformed into some slobbering, drooling idiot that has completely forgotten about the 3 healthy items and goes for the aforementioned entrees that have absolutely no place in a healthy diet. "I'll have the chicken. Fried. With Gravy. Green beans (yay a little triumph!) and mashed potatoes. OF COURSE I WANT GRAVY, LEXI! Duh!". What the fuck is wrong with me? What happened to ordering one of the 3 items? Am I that fucking weak? Yes. Yes I am. Sigh. I then look at my husband and say something like, "Well, I'll be good tomorrow". I know I'm not the only one that uses that line right? So, we eat our dinner and all the while I'm thinking, "No dessert. No dessert. No dessert". Most of the time I'm good and pass on the dessert that I obviously want. Last weekend? Not so much.
Lexi: "How is everything?"
Us: "Fine, thanks".
Lexi: "What can I get you for dessert?" You're a sly one, Lexi. I never had a chance against you, did I?
Husband: "Nothing for me, thanks".
Me: "Umm...dessert? Wow. Umm...that's a tough decision there, Lexi. Dessert huh? Sure! Why not? I'll have the Cherry Raspberry Almond Crisp, please. You only live once, right?" Ugh.
|Stressed out about the weekend eating much? Why yes, yes I am.|