As Sue McGleno and I walked out of the bookstore, she asked...............
"Mexican, Pizza or go home for Soup?"
In all actuality, this might appear as an innocent question to you, but it really wasn't.
When a woman has been married to a man for 100 years, most of the times they know the answer to a question they ask their husband.....even before they ask it.
At the Klecko Castle, I am in charge of all things soup-stew and chili, but there is one small exception.
Sue McGleno makes an awesome Chicken & Rice soup that I can't touch, her secret is in her stock, and truth be told......Capitol City has been under the cover of cloud and flu for a week.....
So I wanted the soup.
She knew this.
"Mexican, Pizza or Soup?"
At this point, I locked my eyes on hers, held my tongue for 3-2-1 at which point she responded...
"Good, Pizza it is!"
I really don't want to start a gender war here, and most of you know I almost always side with women, but all I want to do is post one simple pizza observation.
When a guy goes out for pizza, typically he goes to a neighborhood place where the concept and people there are laid back.
Places that might have names likes....Lyle's, Checker Board or Slice of New York.
But whenever I go out for pizza with girls, the places they take me to, these places have restaurant name's that are hard to pronounce, and their employees all look like they went to Princeton but for one reason or another they just got tired of being studious and now they've chosen pizza as their life muse.
That's exactly the type of place Sue McGleno brought me.
So we go in, and then we are forced to "wait to be seated".
Wow.....since when does anybody have to be "seated" for pizza?
Dude was nice, and he was affable, but then he tosses another curious question.....
"Would you prefer a table or a booth?"
Really?????????????????
Has anybody ever selected the table?
There a certain-certains in the Food Show.
There are certain questions staff should never ask, because if they do....that world will call them out as posers.
EXAMPLE -
Go to any legit breakfast diner, and if Esther or Helen come to take the order of a middle aged man, they'll never pose the question..............
"Would you like bacon or sausage with that?"
Because they know 100% of guys are going to select the bacon.
Not 91%
Not 96%
But 100%
Lock-Stock-Tomahawk!
If I sound like I'm on fire, maybe it's because I kinda am..................
Indulge just a few seconds longer.
Now they sit Me and Sue McGleno in a booth.
At Lyles, or Checkerboard Pizza...that booth table would be long enough to take a nap on, but at this uppity-up pizza establishment.....the table was shoe box sized, and-and-and.....AND GET THIS,
In the middle of that table was a small jelly jar with 6 fresh flowers, and next to that was a glass receptacle like thing with a flame in it.
Some people might call that thing a candle, but in the Klecko book of love, candles are made out of wax.
They melt.
They drip wax.
They are made by some interesting person that hangs out with the Butcher and the Baker, but this was one of those little metallic bulb dealios that has some kind of lighter fluid in it.
OK, I get it, this swank pizza place that is about to charge me $14 for a 10" pizza, figures if they broaden the esthetic....well maybe that will warrant increasing the price point.......sigh.
What they are forgetting is that Sue McGleno and I want to spread out and use smart phones, read the City Pages and eat appetizers, to do this one is almost forced to conduct a Fengshui seminar.
Ultimately, we had to shove this excess baggage up against the wall, and after doing so.....Klecko placed his head on a swivel and noticed that every other eating participant did the same.
Father-Son-Holy Ghost.....I was starting to get stressed, and while that tension began to mount, I simply defused it by locking eyes once again with my wife and announcing......
"I have to pee."
So Vroom................Klecko zips out of the dining area, and circles the perimeter to find a place of sanctuary.
Like most restaurant's this size, the Men's Room came equipped with 1 urinal - 1 toilet and 1 sink.
Boom - I push the door open, and I'm kinda frustrated with myself because now I'm feeling like I was 4 because I really gotta go.
The pressure was unfathomable.
I can't remember if there was a partition, but as I unzipped-and spun around a corner......
There's some stocky soul locked down to my choice of porcelain, and since guy rules dictate it isn't cool to explore what kind of ministry another dude is working in the restroom, I wasn't sure how long this guy was gonna be.
So now I turn, and throw my scarf behind my back, but while I do this....I tune into audio mode.
From the sound of things......this guy was flowing at hydrant status, so I ended up doing the thing that most guys hate......
I had to go #1 in the #2 stall.
When I did this, of course the seat was down.
Of course the seat was covered with innumerable drops of pee.
When this happens, a guy kinda has a conundrum.
If you are not a savage, you don't want to contribute to this monstrosity, but to claim civilized status, that means you'll be required to engage in flipping up the seat.
Sweet Jesus from Warsaw City........
A guy might consider this if there's some plank like board, or extended foundry tongs, but you guessed it....
Nadda-Nadda Enchilada.
(At this point I will leave out any narration describing my P.V.E. (Personal Voiding Experience)......
However-while I was standing...looking down at the ground, there were puddles surrounding the bowl.
Not just a sparse few, but the ratio was akin to the Native Fighters that surrounded Custer during his exit.
LOL.....I swear to Caesar, I had passed appalled and now I was entering onto Fear Avenue, so being the self-surviving Pollack, I switched my focus, ran my eyes up the flagpole to eye level and placed my glance to a tiled wall behind the commode and yes.......
You might want to turn away yourself.
It gets worse from here...........
Right in front of me, about 4 feet away,
A carefully placed booger smear.
Right when my gag reflex began to kick in, the hydrant guy next to me completed his chore, and to his credit.....
He restored sanity to this situation by using the sink.
While the water splashed his hands, I wasn't sure if he was protesting the bathroom's condition to me....or to some invisible bathroom deity.
But when he was finished, and had left the bathroom, I followed suit by washing my hands.
When it was time to dry my hands, I scanned the premises to weigh my hand drying options.
There was only one.
Paper towels.
Now typically I am a fan of the paper towel over the blowing machine, but today something occurred that could possibly persuade me to flip my opinion.
This paper towel dispenser was that paper towel dispenser that comes equipped with the "red laser / motion detector thing."
So now I wave my hand in front of the glowing light.
It wouldn't engage at first.
So now I'm getting more than annoyed and begin waving my arm sarcastically like a convulsive Pentecostal.
ZOOM........................praise be the Saints, several sheets of single ply paper come whooshing out of the unit, but the catch was.......
The restaurant had the garbage container under it.
Directly underneath, and the excess refuse had piled so high, that the clean paper towels fell onto the top of the soiled / disguarded ones.
You just can't make this up.
Now I am the first to cut a place slack, but it was obvious that - that garbage can hadn't been emptied all weekend.
And I know that some people are slovenly.
Some people don't practice hygiene.
But I'm just not gonna believe that one or two people ripped this room into that condition, it had to be the aftermath of some kind of swine orgy.
Is it just me?
Have you guys ever entered a situation similar to this, and if so......was your next thought the same as mine?
If the bathroom is allowed to look like this, what takes place in the kitchen?
Alright..........I feel better now.
But in closing, I'd like to remind you of a saying Pastor Aaron's used to say to me......
"You can tell a lot about a person by inspecting how they maintain their car and their shoes."
I'll respectfully add "Bathrooms" onto his mantra.
Stay clean L.A.B. Rats
"Mexican, Pizza or go home for Soup?"
In all actuality, this might appear as an innocent question to you, but it really wasn't.
When a woman has been married to a man for 100 years, most of the times they know the answer to a question they ask their husband.....even before they ask it.
At the Klecko Castle, I am in charge of all things soup-stew and chili, but there is one small exception.
Sue McGleno makes an awesome Chicken & Rice soup that I can't touch, her secret is in her stock, and truth be told......Capitol City has been under the cover of cloud and flu for a week.....
So I wanted the soup.
She knew this.
"Mexican, Pizza or Soup?"
At this point, I locked my eyes on hers, held my tongue for 3-2-1 at which point she responded...
"Good, Pizza it is!"
I really don't want to start a gender war here, and most of you know I almost always side with women, but all I want to do is post one simple pizza observation.
When a guy goes out for pizza, typically he goes to a neighborhood place where the concept and people there are laid back.
Places that might have names likes....Lyle's, Checker Board or Slice of New York.
But whenever I go out for pizza with girls, the places they take me to, these places have restaurant name's that are hard to pronounce, and their employees all look like they went to Princeton but for one reason or another they just got tired of being studious and now they've chosen pizza as their life muse.
That's exactly the type of place Sue McGleno brought me.
So we go in, and then we are forced to "wait to be seated".
Wow.....since when does anybody have to be "seated" for pizza?
Dude was nice, and he was affable, but then he tosses another curious question.....
"Would you prefer a table or a booth?"
Really?????????????????
Has anybody ever selected the table?
There a certain-certains in the Food Show.
There are certain questions staff should never ask, because if they do....that world will call them out as posers.
EXAMPLE -
Go to any legit breakfast diner, and if Esther or Helen come to take the order of a middle aged man, they'll never pose the question..............
"Would you like bacon or sausage with that?"
Because they know 100% of guys are going to select the bacon.
Not 91%
Not 96%
But 100%
Lock-Stock-Tomahawk!
If I sound like I'm on fire, maybe it's because I kinda am..................
Indulge just a few seconds longer.
Now they sit Me and Sue McGleno in a booth.
At Lyles, or Checkerboard Pizza...that booth table would be long enough to take a nap on, but at this uppity-up pizza establishment.....the table was shoe box sized, and-and-and.....AND GET THIS,
In the middle of that table was a small jelly jar with 6 fresh flowers, and next to that was a glass receptacle like thing with a flame in it.
Some people might call that thing a candle, but in the Klecko book of love, candles are made out of wax.
They melt.
They drip wax.
They are made by some interesting person that hangs out with the Butcher and the Baker, but this was one of those little metallic bulb dealios that has some kind of lighter fluid in it.
OK, I get it, this swank pizza place that is about to charge me $14 for a 10" pizza, figures if they broaden the esthetic....well maybe that will warrant increasing the price point.......sigh.
What they are forgetting is that Sue McGleno and I want to spread out and use smart phones, read the City Pages and eat appetizers, to do this one is almost forced to conduct a Fengshui seminar.
Ultimately, we had to shove this excess baggage up against the wall, and after doing so.....Klecko placed his head on a swivel and noticed that every other eating participant did the same.
Father-Son-Holy Ghost.....I was starting to get stressed, and while that tension began to mount, I simply defused it by locking eyes once again with my wife and announcing......
"I have to pee."
So Vroom................Klecko zips out of the dining area, and circles the perimeter to find a place of sanctuary.
Like most restaurant's this size, the Men's Room came equipped with 1 urinal - 1 toilet and 1 sink.
Boom - I push the door open, and I'm kinda frustrated with myself because now I'm feeling like I was 4 because I really gotta go.
The pressure was unfathomable.
I can't remember if there was a partition, but as I unzipped-and spun around a corner......
There's some stocky soul locked down to my choice of porcelain, and since guy rules dictate it isn't cool to explore what kind of ministry another dude is working in the restroom, I wasn't sure how long this guy was gonna be.
So now I turn, and throw my scarf behind my back, but while I do this....I tune into audio mode.
From the sound of things......this guy was flowing at hydrant status, so I ended up doing the thing that most guys hate......
I had to go #1 in the #2 stall.
When I did this, of course the seat was down.
Of course the seat was covered with innumerable drops of pee.
When this happens, a guy kinda has a conundrum.
If you are not a savage, you don't want to contribute to this monstrosity, but to claim civilized status, that means you'll be required to engage in flipping up the seat.
Sweet Jesus from Warsaw City........
A guy might consider this if there's some plank like board, or extended foundry tongs, but you guessed it....
Nadda-Nadda Enchilada.
(At this point I will leave out any narration describing my P.V.E. (Personal Voiding Experience)......
However-while I was standing...looking down at the ground, there were puddles surrounding the bowl.
Not just a sparse few, but the ratio was akin to the Native Fighters that surrounded Custer during his exit.
LOL.....I swear to Caesar, I had passed appalled and now I was entering onto Fear Avenue, so being the self-surviving Pollack, I switched my focus, ran my eyes up the flagpole to eye level and placed my glance to a tiled wall behind the commode and yes.......
You might want to turn away yourself.
It gets worse from here...........
Right in front of me, about 4 feet away,
A carefully placed booger smear.
Right when my gag reflex began to kick in, the hydrant guy next to me completed his chore, and to his credit.....
He restored sanity to this situation by using the sink.
While the water splashed his hands, I wasn't sure if he was protesting the bathroom's condition to me....or to some invisible bathroom deity.
But when he was finished, and had left the bathroom, I followed suit by washing my hands.
When it was time to dry my hands, I scanned the premises to weigh my hand drying options.
There was only one.
Paper towels.
Now typically I am a fan of the paper towel over the blowing machine, but today something occurred that could possibly persuade me to flip my opinion.
This paper towel dispenser was that paper towel dispenser that comes equipped with the "red laser / motion detector thing."
So now I wave my hand in front of the glowing light.
It wouldn't engage at first.
So now I'm getting more than annoyed and begin waving my arm sarcastically like a convulsive Pentecostal.
ZOOM........................praise be the Saints, several sheets of single ply paper come whooshing out of the unit, but the catch was.......
The restaurant had the garbage container under it.
Directly underneath, and the excess refuse had piled so high, that the clean paper towels fell onto the top of the soiled / disguarded ones.
You just can't make this up.
Now I am the first to cut a place slack, but it was obvious that - that garbage can hadn't been emptied all weekend.
And I know that some people are slovenly.
Some people don't practice hygiene.
But I'm just not gonna believe that one or two people ripped this room into that condition, it had to be the aftermath of some kind of swine orgy.
Is it just me?
Have you guys ever entered a situation similar to this, and if so......was your next thought the same as mine?
If the bathroom is allowed to look like this, what takes place in the kitchen?
Alright..........I feel better now.
But in closing, I'd like to remind you of a saying Pastor Aaron's used to say to me......
"You can tell a lot about a person by inspecting how they maintain their car and their shoes."
I'll respectfully add "Bathrooms" onto his mantra.
Stay clean L.A.B. Rats
This is the best of posts and the worst of posts. I laughed even as I gagged. Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteP.S. If you think it's all sunshine and roses in the ladies' room . . . you would be sorely mistaken.
I wouldn't even venture to guess what takes place in the womens restroom, it could cripple me for life (or at least an hour).
Delete