A Celebration to Remember

<Originally posted elsewhere on September 24th, 2008>


Edward and I decided to try the Italian place near our house for lunch to celebrate our anniversary.  (Mind you, this is one of maybe two or three restaurants in a 5 mile radius that do not have "combo" or "value" anywhere on the menu.)  One of our neighbors described it as "spendy" so we thought we were in for a nice treat. 

Our first clue SHOULD have been the large banner advertising the lunch buffet for $6.99.  Buffets disturb me and I prefer not to get my dinner out of a public trough, thank you very much.  However, we were being "open-minded" and thought we'd give it a shot.  To be fair, the restaurant did offer a regular menu and neither Edward nor I could decide why our neighbor claimed it was spendy.  Compared to Mickey D's perhaps, but I don't think there was a dish on there over $9.  Now, rumor has it that this neighbor has a little problem with the drinky-drinky so perhaps he meant that it was expensive hang-over food.  And yeah, you'll probably get a better calorie to blood alcohol ratio at Carl's Jr. 

Anywho, we walked in and were greeted by the owner (or at least, he SEEMED like the owner).  He definitely pushed the buffet so we went for it.  In all honesty, it wasn't a bad deal for the price.  The food was fairly tasty which is more than I'd expect from a lunch buffet in our bumfuck neighborhood.  But, I tend to not have a very high opinion of Italian food because once you cover anything in cheese and sauce, any real culinary talent is unnecessary.  I thought I was eating eggplant parmesan but with so much sauce and cheese, it could have been a Dr. Scholl's.  The piece de resistance is that we ate our lunch feast off of picnic-ware.  Paper napkins, plastic forks, and styrofoam plates.  Classy, classy.  


After the hefty $15 lunch bill, we were feeling a little rich so we decided to try the gelato place in the same plaza.  Bastards didn't open until 1 p.m. and that was 15 minutes away, to wait in the heat with our tummies full of cheese and sauce.  Thanks, but no thanks. 

On our way to the second part of our anniversary luncheon date (which was a trip to the grocery store), we remembered a new ice cream place that opened up near the grocery store.  We decided that Lindsay's Gelato could suck it and we would get our sugar fix elsewhere. 

This "ice cream shop" (and I use that term loosely) just might be the scariest place on earth for a number of different reasons.

First, the "ice cream shop" had ONE SOFT SERVE MACHINE.  That's it.  All the toppings in the world don't make up for a lack of options.  And when you offer me "chocolate, vanilla, or twist", I'm going to tell you to go fuck yourself.  It's just that simple.  You're not an ice cream shop.  You're a fucking side item.  Who doesn't know this?

Secondly, this place had the creepiest decor I've ever seen.  They had taken notebook sized pieces of paper, cut out pictures of smiling children from magazines, and thumbtacked them to the wall.  To top it off, there was a "children's corner" which consisted of several child-size tables and chairs along with THREE posterboard-sized posters covered in cutouts of childrens heads.  JUST THE HEADS.  Not an inch of white space between them.  The father with the ambiguously gendered child poster could have come straight out of NAMBLA and really made you wonder about the sanity of the owner and any customers who might come here on a regular basis.  


Edward and I quickly decided that owner was barren, probably had a closet full of dolls at home that were forced to participate in slave labor tea parties, and was probably using this store as a front to one day nab her own ankle-biter.  (And no, our chocolate malt wasn't that good.) 

We've decided to celebrate the remainder of our anniversary at home...  away from the $6.99 buffets and the creepy kid-head ice cream stores.  And next time, when Edward says "Would you like me to make dinner?", I will say yes.