Monday, February 7, 2011
Everybody's Trying to Be My Baby
Reechie and I settled in and our server comes over to introduce himself and ask what we want to drink.
Server: How are you both today?
Us: We're great! How are you?
Server: Well, I'm not feeling too well today. I'm feeling, in fact, pretty horrible, but you know, you have to go to work.
Uh - okay.
For the record, it didn't stop him from looking down my shirt which I don't mind, but he was incredibly delighted to be looking down my shirt even though he didn't feel too well.
Reechie says to me, "I hope he's not going to take our order"? We both kinda laugh and wait for him to bring our beverages.
When he comes back with our tea, Reechie decides she would rather have coffee and says to our server, he of the hang-dog face, "I'll keep the tea, but would you bring me a cup of coffee as well and some cream"?
Reechie: Yes please.
Server: Now . . . ?
Reechie: When you can please.
Uh - okay . . .
I said, "Maybe he'd prefer it if we came back for the coffee later tonight"?
By now we're giggling away, hoping our server doesn't barf or cry or start looking up our skirts or whatever the hell crazy servers do.
We order, our breakfasts are delivered, they are delicious, we enjoy them.
Server has to stop by five times to see if we love our eggs. For real. Until I want to poke out his sick eyes with hot sticks. Hot sticks that I would set on fire with a lighter and then flick under his ass if he didn't leave us alone.
Uh - okay?
He comes back to say goodbye to my cleavage and bring our bill.
I was laughing the rest of the day.