My Captain made dinner tonight, and did the dishes afterwards.
We say that every time we go out for dinner. It’s cute as hell, and makes most of our friends want to vomit.
How’s your nausea level holding up? Wait, there’s more.
We went to Dogfish Head Restaurant in Gaithersburg. It rocks for My Captain, because it has most excellent off-centered hoity-toity brews, and it rocks for me because it has Cajun egg rolls, which are my life. Didn’t know that about me, did you? Most of you thought my family was my life. Turns out all my life is about is deep-fried Andouille sausage egg rolls. It explains a lot, when you think about it.
Anyways…..tonight was not a calm meal. In fact, it was fraught with anxiety. By the time we left, I was a puddle of sweat. Or should that read I wore a puddle of sweat? I was puddled in sweat? I was IN a puddle of sweat? Look, there was sweat, me, and a puddle involved. You figure the rest out.
We started the meal as we always do at Dogfish. I ordered my spicy Cajun Andouille eggroll appetizer,
which falls only slightly below my favorite Fried Green Tomatoes at Alexander’s Restaurant in Buckeyestown. My Captain got his usual cup ‘o crab soup.
He ordered some fancy schmancy beer,
and I ordered my usual White Chocolate Martini.
But hold the phone, there Vern. Our usual bartender, Julie, was not there to whip up her genius White Chocolate concoction. Tonight we had Keisha. And, apparently Keisha is either a comedian, or a frustrated artist. When my drink came, it had, shall we say, personality.
It smiled at me. So I smiled back.
But it wouldn’t stop staring at me. I became concerned.
I tried to drink it, looking it in the eye, but it just didn’t feel right. Whenever I sipped, his head became horrifically misshapen. I became alarmed.
So I looked away. That worked just fine. It worked so fine, I ordered another, and asked Keisha to make it resemble SNL’s old character, “Mr. Bill.”
She tried. Lord knows she tried. But whenever I looked at it, all I could think about was some kind of blow-up doll.
And in all honesty, I have no idea how I know that little nugget of information. Seriously.
No, really, seriously.
Let’s move on.
Neither one of us were very hungry, so we agreed to split the Hummus Plate, and call it a meal. When it came, the platter was beautiful, as always, but something was different.
Wait a doggone minute. Either the restaurant staff is messing with me, or I’m in need of a Psychiatrist specializing in Paranoia Neuroses.
Shhhh, Mama. It’s going to be alright. Just tell the voices in your head to pipe down and drink your drink like a good girl.