Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

Just Fifty Years Until the Old Folks Home, Better Practice

The husband and I sat down to dinner last night. At Applebee's. At four thirty. For christ's sake. I honestly was worried that the waitress was going to offer us an "Early Bird Special." I had the urge to call and nag my grandchildren but we don't even have kids so.

It was a nice dinner. We had a good time. We really don't go out very often and never have. Whether it's because we were broke, or busy or just would rather hang out I don't know.

I loathed our waitress though. She was ditzy. She winked at my husband. Which please, go ahead and flirt with him. I am right here so don't think you are being sneaky. Christ. I am not going to get in a cat fight with you over it. Then she lost our order. And apparently her wink worked because J was still going to give her full tip. But see, she should have just flirted. I made sure she got a shitty tip. Because she was a bad waitress. And annoying.

Don't worry all your waitstaff personel and former waitstaff personel. I was nice to her.

I try to never be rude to those in the service industry. I understand that they are difficult jobs and that it is almost impossible to give perfect service to every customer. However, anyone who gives shitty service doesn't get a good tip. If I do a shitty job at my job I don't get a bonus.

That sounds meaner than I am.

It really was a nice dinner.

And then we came home. Poor guy has to go to work today (and tomorrow and the day after that and the day after THAT until the end of GODDAMN TIME) so we went to bed early. Ridiculously early honestly.

I woke up with him at four this morning. I read Glamour magazine. I watched "The Gun in Betty Lou's Handbag." I ate Honeycombs cereal from a large mixing bowl.

Admit it. Ya'll want to be me.

Am taking my mother to the Half Yearly sale at our store today. Well I am in the weather is nice enough that my dad wants to do his yardwork. It's sunny here so I am expecting her to call me any minute. We are looking for a jacket for her that we will not find. I can already tell you that. But we will look all day and she will complain about anything that we find because it won't be the "one."

You know I got my pickiness from somewhere.

It's my fault. She has this tweed blazer. When she tried it on with this big sweater this summer it looked like it fit her. It wasn't all that cute--she bought it in the eighties and it's long with padded shoulders--but it did seem to fit. But she started wearing it all the time and I realized the thing was huge on her. My dad mentioned it. Do you know what it takes to get a man to tell you that something looks bad on you?

At any rate she wants to replace it. While tweed may be in style this season not like that. We'll see. I am sure we will find something that she will love but will not buy because it will not be on sale.

We also have to go buy Western shirts for my grandpa. He wears the impossible to find size of 16 1/2 neck 36 sleeve. The store I went to had a few that were still on the truck but the nice gentleman who owns the store said, "Little lady, you come back tomorrow and I will have those unpacked and will measure 'em right up for ya."

Well that is an offer you just cannot refuse.

And we have to find something for my grandmother's birthday. What do you buy for a woman who weighs four hundred pounds. Leaves her house maybe once a week (and not at all in winter). Who's main hobby is complaining about how no one appreciates her. And still loathes her daughter-in-law even though she and her son have been happily married for 35 years.

Yeah I don't know either. But I am quite sure we will find it at the Bon-Macy's.

Wish me luck.

8:23 a.m. :: comment ::
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