So I was at the Friday's tonight, trying to eat some ribs. First off, these ribs were dry and tough. They were "saw off the bone" tender. Plus, they had a severe curve, so I got sauce on my cheeks. This little piggie had scoliosis.
I decided I could turn the dinner around if I had a key lime martini. (My taste in cocktails is the same as you would expect of a high-school student, since I only began drinking liquor about three years ago.)
I asked the waiter, Ricky -- I swear, as in, "My name is Ricky AND I'LL BE TAKING CARE OF YOU TONIGHT" -- I asked Ricky if I might have a Key Lime Martini.
"Certainly. And I see you are over eighteen. You don't look a day over thirty-five. But may I see some identification?"
"That is utter crap, Ricky."
"No, really."
It was difficult fishing my driver's license out of my purse with my eyes rolled back in my head as if I was having a SEIZURE but I found it, and I slapped it down in front of Ricky.
I also said if he was shilling for a tip that no forty-four year old would buy his game. I mean really, why not just say, "We are required to ask everyone for I.D." instead of such idiocy?
The other day at work someone tried to backtrack about pegging me for a 35 year old by saying that I "know my stuff so well" that they just assumed I had been working in the industry for always.
You know what that really means? I need to start fucking wearing make-up to work goddammit.
Posted by: melati | November 14, 2006 at 11:39 AM
Did you say, "Ricky, where's your FLAIR? A woman of my years likes to see a little FLAIR on her Boy Friday."
Posted by: Vaguely Urban | November 14, 2006 at 03:49 PM
DAMNIT....I had an awesome Office Space-inspired comment all thought up in my head and V.U. had to up and go there.
But I'll get over it. I always do.
Posted by: O | November 14, 2006 at 08:55 PM