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Friday, March 30, 2012

Out to dinner.

Why the fuck do I bother.

I am a foodie. I love FOOD and when I go to a restaurant, it better be good. I would rather pay extra for a good meal than nothing for a shit meal.

Kids can ruin the entire experience, folks! Case and point is about to be exposed.

Tonight, after a very long week, we decided to go out to dinner. I am not too big on chains, I'll tell you that right now. I want to sit down, have a glass of wine, and unwind...if we decide to go out, THAT'S what I want to do.
Tonight, we go to a new fun little swanky spot. Not too upscale to where we though- "OH SHIT, prepare to be embarrassed" but not generic enough to say "WHO the FUCK has a Xanax I can borrow, 'cause it's about to go down!" (ie: chuck E cheese, Johns incredible pizza, McDonalds, etc...).
When we walk in, we see a chick with a baby so we figure we're good....right?
WRONG-O friends!
The female spawn busts out with her drama queen personality, IMMEDIATELY. I'm talkin', she BROUGHT it.
 FUUUUUUCK me--- dammit.
She had her head on the table, crammed up my ass, not sitting in her seat, you name it, she pulled out all the stops tonight.
Of course at first, I am attempting to use discretion-
which means, I am all up in her face with my "Mom" voice
"IF you don't knock your shit off right this second, I am dragging your ass to the bathroom for some "Act right"!!! Which she of course responds with:
WHAAAAAAAAAT??? WHAAAAAAT MOMMMYYY? I just want to sit with youuuuuu?
BULL Shit .
You saw me starting to relax.
You sensed the calming demeanor when I sat down and you couldn't stand it! You SMELLED FEAR!
So at this point it becomes pouty lips and I'm not hungry, I wanna go home... she KNEW what she was doing.
" I...I....I'm not huuuuungry. I dont' want anything".
Like Hell. You don't get to use that one til you're my age and married! That's grown ass argument "prove a point" talk. SNAP.
I look across the table and merely state a fact..."I'm going to level her ass if she doesn't get her shit together. I swear..." Hubby steps in and flashes. He wants to level her too.
She calms down a little bit until the shrimp comes out.
"uuuuuuuhuh!  THIS IS GROSS! do they have RANCH???" Now, mind you, this was NOT the quiet version!
SHUT YOUR MOUTH. SERIOUSLY. MORE wine please!!! ding! ding! ding!
(No, I didn't have a bell---- in case you were wondering.)
This attitude continued through dinner. At this point, I have take my mind to a place where I have wine and popcorn every night for dinner in a cute little condo by the mall to maintain sanity.
 The bill comes- and its not cheap.
The hubby starts having a panic attack (because he's a money Nazi) WHOOPSIES. Now we're BOTH pissed.
The kids are practically biting off each others ears in the 9th round and there's not enough wine in this place to take my blood pressure to a safe level.

And to polish the night off------------ I didn't win the damn lottery. I might as well have written a check to a therapist and had grilled cheese and top ramen.

I can't imagine WHY one would question why I work a 9 to 5? Must've lost their fucking minds.

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