Friday, February 20, 2009
The food sucks but the entertainment rocked
We went to Olive Garden last night and the 20-30 minute wait. As we waited for our oversized hockey puck to flash and vibrate my son and I made fun of the other people waiting. Mormons are such an easy crowd to mess with. There was the "used car salesman" with the "did you pay for that haircut?" haircut. There were the very large people with flashing disc walking toward the cute 16 year-old hostess and my "sour grapes because we should be ahead of you even though we came in after you" daggers going into their backs. They looked like they could miss a week's worth of meals anyway. Granted, I could miss a day but hey, I'm the star of this blog and they are the bad guys.
So we were seated next to a table of "are these ALL your kids?" 12. Now we had the Olive Garden team serve us. One took our order and brought our drinks. Another brought our appetizers and TWO brought our entrees. All different. I went against my instincts and ordered something non-pasta. I ordered the mixed grill and it was horrible.
The highlight of the night was the "witness protection program dude". I saw a woman with large breasts and a top that shared a nice portion of them to the adoring crowd....of me anyway, walking out of one of the many nooks of this particular Olive Garden. A nanosecond after the, "now that ain't no Mormon" thought passed through my head, the mafia made his appearance. Greased hair and a black $400 wool top coat. Hands thrust firmly a la "I'm packing heat" into the pockets. And a "what-the-fuck-you-looking-at, something-I-can-do-for-you?" scowl directed at the room that was completely ignoring him while I was trying to get a shot of his date's ass.
At this point I was already disappointed with my meal and briefly thought of calling out to the guido, "let's check out the Carrabas in Provo sometime". Maybe I'll run into him there sometime if his old associates haven't caught up with his ass.
We went to Olive Garden last night and the 20-30 minute wait. As we waited for our oversized hockey puck to flash and vibrate my son and I made fun of the other people waiting. Mormons are such an easy crowd to mess with. There was the "used car salesman" with the "did you pay for that haircut?" haircut. There were the very large people with flashing disc walking toward the cute 16 year-old hostess and my "sour grapes because we should be ahead of you even though we came in after you" daggers going into their backs. They looked like they could miss a week's worth of meals anyway. Granted, I could miss a day but hey, I'm the star of this blog and they are the bad guys.
So we were seated next to a table of "are these ALL your kids?" 12. Now we had the Olive Garden team serve us. One took our order and brought our drinks. Another brought our appetizers and TWO brought our entrees. All different. I went against my instincts and ordered something non-pasta. I ordered the mixed grill and it was horrible.
The highlight of the night was the "witness protection program dude". I saw a woman with large breasts and a top that shared a nice portion of them to the adoring crowd....of me anyway, walking out of one of the many nooks of this particular Olive Garden. A nanosecond after the, "now that ain't no Mormon" thought passed through my head, the mafia made his appearance. Greased hair and a black $400 wool top coat. Hands thrust firmly a la "I'm packing heat" into the pockets. And a "what-the-fuck-you-looking-at, something-I-can-do-for-you?" scowl directed at the room that was completely ignoring him while I was trying to get a shot of his date's ass.
At this point I was already disappointed with my meal and briefly thought of calling out to the guido, "let's check out the Carrabas in Provo sometime". Maybe I'll run into him there sometime if his old associates haven't caught up with his ass.
// posted by sinner @ 8:47 AM 
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