If you've known me or read my blogs for any significant period of time, you are already aware that I am a truly flawed individual who could probably benefit greatly from the services of mental health professionals (or maybe its the poor individuals around me who are in need of those services...I'm going with that theory). I own my flaws and eccentricities knowing that I am who I am, and its those very qualities that make me the way I am (and the voices).
Argument with myself aside there are a couple things that all of my personalities agree on. We have a mutual hatred of mornings; a lack of tolerance for intellectually deficient individuals and argumentative, badly behaved children; a love of good food and a serious lack of patience for bad service just to name a few.
One night last week after work, I picked up my son and headed to Wally World to look at camping gear for our upcoming trip to the lake. We were checking out tents, lanterns, air mattresses, and all the other cool camping gadgets geared at making roughing it not so rough, when the Turd (my son) lets out a sound which could only be comparable to a small child on Christmas morning then yelled out, "Mom, come here!!!" I took a couple steps toward his voice and realized what he'd found. The gold mine of isles for any tween and above boy...the airsoft, pellet and paint gun aisle. I don't think so. I explain to him that we're there for camping gear and those were not camping accessories. He champions the cause in his effort to obtain what he saw as weapons of mass destruction by saying something about protection from wild animals, yada, yada, yada shut the hell up. I mean really, what's he going to defend us against with an air soft gun? Squirel? Rat? Roach maybe?
The rest of our Wally World experience was polluted with him pleading, me telling him no several different ways, him trying to convince me that an airsoft gun was something I simply could not allow him to continue living without, and finally me telling him I better NOT hear another dang blasted word about it or else, as I thought of what a great look this would be for him.
Already irritated we went to a local Mexican restaurant for dinner (and a JUMBO margarita...for me, not Turd). Man-Friend met us at the restaurant and when the waiter came to the table we ordered two jumbo margaritas and a tea for Turd as well as some pico and cheese dip. When the waiter came back with our drinks, we asked for a couple glasses of water. That's where it begins.
While normally the tequila in the margarita would begin relaxing the worries away, I was feeling a bit dehydrated and REALLY wanted a glass of water. I'm not in the service industry and don't claim to be an expert in the field of waiterology, but it seems to me that an order of two waters would be a relatively simple concept. However, after several minutes our waiter was wondering around aimlessly looking like he'd just smoked a big fat joint and we still hadn't gotten our waters or placed our food order. When the dufass waiter finally remembered where he was and came back to the table I politely reminded him that we were still waiting on our waters. We placed our orders and soon after Dufass returns...with one water which Turd wants to claim because his "tea is too sweet". Ugggg.
My patience is running seriously thin, so I take a big pull off of my jumbo margarita and say in the politest voice I could muster to please bring us two more waters. Several more minutes passed before Dufass returned and handed the one glass of water he'd returned with...to Man-Friend. Now this may seem like a small or petty problem and not worth making a big deal over, but I was REALLY thirsty and REALLY wanted a glass of water AND was already quite irritated before I arrived.
This was getting on my every last nerve. I felt my eyebrow start to twitch and my upper lip begin to spasm as I'm asking him again for a glass of water through my shriveling from dehydration lips. Man-Friend could feel the tension building and quickly offered me his water in an effort to ease the tension but NO!!!! Bring me a fucking glass of water! (though I managed to avoid the meltdown and just shoot daggers at him through my narrowing eyes.) I think he got the point and finally I got a water.
Because I'd ordered pico and cheese dip and can just about make a meal out of the chips and dips (and liquor), I decided to order a small burrito called the San Jose Burrito for a cool $5.75 verses paying $9-10 for a meal that I wouldn't eat much of. A little while later, Dufass starts bringing our food, one plate at a time. First he brings Turd's food, followed a few minutes later by Man-Friend's plate, then a few minutes later with my plate. As he begins handing me the plate he says here's your California Burrito or whatever the fuck location Burrito it was that was NOT the burrito I ordered but WAS twice as expensive. Are you fucking kidding me?
Me: That's not what I ordered.
Dufass: It's the (whatever the fuck) Burrito.
Me: I didn't order the (whatever the fuck) Burrito. I ordered the pork San Jose Burrito.
Dufass: (as he holds the plate over Man-Friend trying to hand it to me) But it's pork.
Me: But it's not what I ordered and I'm not paying twice as much for a burrito that I didn't order.
Dufass: But it IS pork (as he tries again to give me the wrong menu item yet again).
Me: I ordered the San Jose Burrito.
Dufass: But it's pork!
Me: (about to seriously lose my shit) But it is NOT the $5.75 pork San Jose Burrito and I'm NOT paying the $9.00 for the (whatever the fuck) burrito!! (It took everything in me not to say FUCK YOU AND YOUR PORK AND GET ME THE FUCKING BURRITO I ORDERED DUMBASS! as my eyes bulged and steam sprayed from my ears.)
A light finally seems to come on behind his glazed over eyes and he apologizes to which I tell him how completely frustrated I am by the whole experience and send him off to get my order while I take another BIG pull off my quickly disappearing jumbo margarita.
My blood pressure was so high I could feel my pulse at my temples. I'm forcing myself to take slow deep breaths to try and calm myself when Turd says, "Mom, you know those airsoft guns?"
Me:"Are you freaking kidding me? I'M ABOUT TO SERIOUSLY LOSE MY SHIT and you're gonna bring up something I told you to drop already?!"
Turd: "Mom!! But it's pork!"
What can you do right there? I went between wanting to strangle him and wanting to laugh right then. I finally got my food, and managed to get out of there without strangling Turd of Dufass, but barely. Between Turd acting like a turd and the completely shitty service at the restaurant,that was an accomplishment I was quite proud of. Hopefully Dufass will leave the dope at home on my next trip.
The rest of our Wally World experience was polluted with him pleading, me telling him no several different ways, him trying to convince me that an airsoft gun was something I simply could not allow him to continue living without, and finally me telling him I better NOT hear another dang blasted word about it or else, as I thought of what a great look this would be for him.
While normally the tequila in the margarita would begin relaxing the worries away, I was feeling a bit dehydrated and REALLY wanted a glass of water. I'm not in the service industry and don't claim to be an expert in the field of waiterology, but it seems to me that an order of two waters would be a relatively simple concept. However, after several minutes our waiter was wondering around aimlessly looking like he'd just smoked a big fat joint and we still hadn't gotten our waters or placed our food order. When the dufass waiter finally remembered where he was and came back to the table I politely reminded him that we were still waiting on our waters. We placed our orders and soon after Dufass returns...with one water which Turd wants to claim because his "tea is too sweet". Ugggg.
My patience is running seriously thin, so I take a big pull off of my jumbo margarita and say in the politest voice I could muster to please bring us two more waters. Several more minutes passed before Dufass returned and handed the one glass of water he'd returned with...to Man-Friend. Now this may seem like a small or petty problem and not worth making a big deal over, but I was REALLY thirsty and REALLY wanted a glass of water AND was already quite irritated before I arrived.
This was getting on my every last nerve. I felt my eyebrow start to twitch and my upper lip begin to spasm as I'm asking him again for a glass of water through my shriveling from dehydration lips. Man-Friend could feel the tension building and quickly offered me his water in an effort to ease the tension but NO!!!! Bring me a fucking glass of water! (though I managed to avoid the meltdown and just shoot daggers at him through my narrowing eyes.) I think he got the point and finally I got a water.
Because I'd ordered pico and cheese dip and can just about make a meal out of the chips and dips (and liquor), I decided to order a small burrito called the San Jose Burrito for a cool $5.75 verses paying $9-10 for a meal that I wouldn't eat much of. A little while later, Dufass starts bringing our food, one plate at a time. First he brings Turd's food, followed a few minutes later by Man-Friend's plate, then a few minutes later with my plate. As he begins handing me the plate he says here's your California Burrito or whatever the fuck location Burrito it was that was NOT the burrito I ordered but WAS twice as expensive. Are you fucking kidding me?
Me: That's not what I ordered.
Dufass: It's the (whatever the fuck) Burrito.
Me: I didn't order the (whatever the fuck) Burrito. I ordered the pork San Jose Burrito.
Dufass: (as he holds the plate over Man-Friend trying to hand it to me) But it's pork.
Me: But it's not what I ordered and I'm not paying twice as much for a burrito that I didn't order.
Dufass: But it IS pork (as he tries again to give me the wrong menu item yet again).
Me: I ordered the San Jose Burrito.
Dufass: But it's pork!
Me: (about to seriously lose my shit) But it is NOT the $5.75 pork San Jose Burrito and I'm NOT paying the $9.00 for the (whatever the fuck) burrito!! (It took everything in me not to say FUCK YOU AND YOUR PORK AND GET ME THE FUCKING BURRITO I ORDERED DUMBASS! as my eyes bulged and steam sprayed from my ears.)
A light finally seems to come on behind his glazed over eyes and he apologizes to which I tell him how completely frustrated I am by the whole experience and send him off to get my order while I take another BIG pull off my quickly disappearing jumbo margarita.
My blood pressure was so high I could feel my pulse at my temples. I'm forcing myself to take slow deep breaths to try and calm myself when Turd says, "Mom, you know those airsoft guns?"
Me:"Are you freaking kidding me? I'M ABOUT TO SERIOUSLY LOSE MY SHIT and you're gonna bring up something I told you to drop already?!"
Turd: "Mom!! But it's pork!"
What can you do right there? I went between wanting to strangle him and wanting to laugh right then. I finally got my food, and managed to get out of there without strangling Turd of Dufass, but barely. Between Turd acting like a turd and the completely shitty service at the restaurant,that was an accomplishment I was quite proud of. Hopefully Dufass will leave the dope at home on my next trip.
