Thursday, July 15, 2010

Paul won't let me do Blogathon

Well, that's not technically true, but he did threaten to move out.
So seems how I can't partake in all the hi jinks, you should help out my friend Erin with her efforts!
She will have to post a new blog entry every 30 minutes for 24 hours! And it's all for charity, so you can feel good about being kind to others and stuff.
She is the funniest person I know, has an awesome son named Chooch, a totally patient BF named Henry and one of the coolest shops on etsy.
She's giving away great incentives for your donations to make it even more worth your while.
Check out all the details here for how to donate, or at least cheer her on.
Here is a link to one of my very favorite posts of hers so you can see what you're in for.
"Bullying Chooch and Mommy Style"


Monday, July 12, 2010


Well, being home is pretty awesome. Things are returning to normal as this picture of Lemon Domingo eating a barbie demonstrates.

Thanks everybody for following along on all our adventures! It really was fun for me to get to share the daily goings on of our road trip. Plus it kept Paul from being too evil too me because he knew I would blog about it.

Thanks also for forgiving my typos and spelling errors. I'm getting too old to proofread all that tiny print on my iphone.

One more day off and then I go back to work. Lots of barbie stuff to work on today if I can get the cat out of the way.

Any vacation/road trip stories that you would like to share?


Saturday, July 10, 2010

Road Trip Day Five

July 9
Woke up every half an hour starting at 7:30. Paul finally woke up at 11:00. We went outside to smoke and he immediately started whining about not having coffee.

Him: maybe you could drive to starbucks
Me: and maybe I'll die driving in LA!

It's no secret that I hate driving. I do it as little as possible and pretty much to work and back. I never drive on the freeway. I didn't even get my license until I was 23. Driving to someplace I had never even seen in an unfamiliar town? Get the eff out.

But he was unrelenting. Maybe they were going to have booze and hookers delivered in my absence.

Me: But I can't even find it on my phone!
Him: Look I found it on my starbucks app (for real) here's the address.

So I glumly looked it up on my map. It was only 2 miles. It looked like I was going to have to go.
I started memorizing the turns.
right on chandler
right on ethel
left on burbank
I could totally handle it right?

Paul gave me the keys and I pulled the seat up as far as it would go. I could literally see nothing out of the back window due to his overly dark pimp tint. My hands were super sweaty and I sat for way to long watching traffic looking for an opening that was large enough in my mind to cram the overly colossal car into (in reality, its a ford fusion, but it seems like a tank to me)

Pulled into traffic and stayed in the right lane (right on chandler) then turned at the light. Two more blocks and there was another light (right on ethel). One block up another light (left on burbank)
I started to breathe easier. Maybe I wasn't going to die after all. This wasn't so bad. I was feeling all proud of my bravado when I realized I didn't know what street the starbucks was on.
I had spent so much time memorizing the turns that I neglected to remember the actual address. Dumbass!
Well, how hard could it be? 2 miles right? It had to be around there somewhere. I tried bringing my map up on the phone while waiting at the light. "cannot find server". I really was going to die I was sure of it.
Waiting to turn right at the light. The name of the street sounded vaguely familiar. I think it was the name Paul told me the starbucks was on. I started scanning the street after waiting for a million teenagers to use the cross walk. I knew it was going to be on the right, but I couldn't find it anywhere. OMG I was lost in LA! I drove around the block and made right turns until I was on burbank again. Got my map up finally and saw the street and number. Waiting at the same crosswalk. I look to my right and the mothereffin starbucks is right on the corner! Goddamn. Had to wait for an old man in a golf cart(?WTF?) to cross the street. Pulled into the parking lot. I was so relieved.
Managed to get the coffee and make it back to Josh's house without incident and no accidents.
I didn't see any evidence of a hooker/booze party, but Paul had packed up all our crap. I thought we were getting ready to leave.
Then Paul mentioned that they wanted to "JAM" and Josh told me I could get in the pool if I wanted.
Hmm. I considered the options. It was a very nice pool and I couldn't remember the last time I was in one. I had bought a new swimsuit for the trip on the off chance I would find myself in a pool type situation. But there's the whole hair thing, and the tattoo thing and being the same color as paper thing. In the end I was like what the eff. I had brought a book with me that I had bought six months ago and hadn't had a chance to read. I had 50 spf. Ill just pile up the fake hair and doggy paddle around a bit.
So I changed and gathered up all my crap. The only thing I was missing was my gigantic hat that I wear anytime there's a chance of the sun touching me. The pool was cold as hell and took my breath away, but I managed to do a half ass lap to the end and back before sitting on the steps and reading my book. 10 minutes later and my pasty ass felt like it was on fire so I moved back to a lawn chair by the shade. I could hear the boys "JAMMING", but really only Josh's drums. Even then it was barely louder than someones car stereo. I drank my coffee and enjoyed feeling like I was on vacation.
Paul finally came out around three. He was ready to go. I stood up to go and change and felt a little woozy, but chalked it up to all the sun and stuff.
Said goodbye to Josh and started the long drive back home.
I started to feel really sick. I told Paul that I needed to eat something, but he "forgot". He lives on coffee and cigarettes alone so sometimes he forgets that normal humans need food in order to not die or throw up in his car.
Made him stop at a rest stop. It actually was relatively clean. Splashed cold water on my face until the urge to vomit subsided.
Back in the car, had a 7 up and choked down some crackers until we made it to a jack in the box.
I felt much better after eating and made Paul feel terrible about forgetting to feed me.
Drove for a few more hours and stopped to get gas in Coalinga. The smell of hot cow feces was overwhelming and seemed to cling to our clothes when we got back in the car after using the restroom. Paul referred to it as "Dungalinga" for the rest of the trip.
Finally felt well enough to blog for a bit. Played Tap fish, Zombie Farm, and Words with Friends.
Too dark to even stare out the window.
Half an hour from home and finally pulled off the freeway. I offered to drive the rest of the way home. Paul gave me a dirty look and threatened to punch me in my other kidney.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Road trip day four

July 8
Woke up 10:30. Check out time is 11. I hate rushing to get ready. Especially with my pain in the ass (I mean fabulous) new hair. I decided to rock Pocahontas braids and just be done with it.
Got all our crap packed up and dragged out to the car. I was longing wistfully for the buffet which was a vice I picked up in Nashville. Paul was still full from his chili cheese omlette from the night before. Starbucks again. There was one in the hotel. Paul went on a rant about how non freestanding starbucks employees are the biggest dicks on the planet. He's always like that before coffee.
Went and sat outside in the boiling heat to drink our coffee and smoke. Found a modestly shady patch in the direct path of the bellboys and killed about 30 minutes.
Our plan was to see the bodies exhibit and then head back to LA to stay another night at Josh's.
I still had a $20 voucher from the night before that I wanted to lose in a $1 slot machine. Took about 35 seconds.
Went upstairs to see the bodies. No photography, of course, but they did take your picture in front of a green screen before you went in. In my mind I was imagining all the fabulous scenes that they could put behind us. Buildings on fire getting chased by people with no skin...I was totally excited about it.
Got into the exhibit. Met by a lady in a lab coat who explained that all the exhibits were REAL! Paul (who is a total teachers pet know it all in these situations) asked her why the sign said there were APPROXIMATELY 206 bones in the human body. The lady got all flustered and started saying something about infants and their unfused skulls. Then admitted that she didn't know and would go ask someone. He totally loves doing things like this to people and was smiling all gleefully. I totally forgot about it until she chased us down in the next room and explained that some people have more bones in their tailbones than others. Then Paul started in with his "oh that's when people are born with tails" story. He's insisted for years that he himself was born with one and that his mom had it cut off and I should just ask her.
I just rolled my eyes and stopped listening.
I've always been a huge fan of plastination. Or taxidermy or embalming or any kind of dead thing preservation. I thought it would be great to be plastinized after I die, but Paul put his foot down and said it was too gross and he didn't want to have to go visit me in a museum somewhere.
So I was expecting to be totally fascinated and stoked on the exhibit. I was a little disappointed. I thought it was a little over produced and sterile. All the informational cards with the displays were basically 5th grade level health class info. Not sure what I was expecting. Maybe more information on the process or how it was developed and perfected. Not just a dumbed down description of the circulatory system. All but two of the full bodies were male and posed in weird sporting positions. Baseball, football, basketball, and darts were all represented. I just couldn't get into it.
Of course I forgot all about our souvenir photo in my cloud of dismay. It could have been fantastic and I'll never know.
Before leaving town, we stopped at the worlds largest gift shop to buy some crap for those people we work with. It was huge and full of fat pasty tourists furiously pawing through Vegas crap. There was tons of swag with pot leaves on it which I thought was weird until Paul pointed out the gigantic "call Dr. Reefer" billboard on the way out of town.
Got on the road to LA. Took an hour detour to get Paul more starbucks. I blogged most of the way. Paul insisted on taking me to the hustler store when we hot to LA. Mostly because I had been bitching and complaint for the better part of 2 days about my lack of a hustler hoodie, hustler juice and photographic evidence of both.
Plus I think I told him my life had no meaning without it.
So being the good husband that he is and not wanting me to die from longing, he took me there.
I figured the best I was going to get was some horrible sequined hoodie thing that I was going to shut up and buy anyway because if all the haranguing. But the only hoodie they had ended up being super cool with horseshoes and swallows. I bought the sweatpants too. So then I had to get a juice. Paul was unenthusiastic about the coffee because it wasn't starbucks, but I told him it might be made by a hot chick with her ass hanging out and that perked him up considerably.
Bur it was a scenester dude. Paul glared at me all resentful. Oh well. All the juice drinks had suggestive names and I think the one I got was called something like "there she blows" or some variation there off. Paul can't remember either. Should have written it down dammit!
Posed for my sassy picture and everything was right with the world!

Went back to Josh's house and I had a glass and a half of champagne and passed out at 12:30. Still the happiest girl in the world.

Ps. I forgot to mention that I did learn via the bodies exhibit that your kidneys are much higher up in your body than I thought they were.
Paul said "of course, that's why you can't punch people there in MMA". Then he kidney punched me.
-- Post From My iPhone

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Road trip day three

July 7
Left Josh's house around noon. Drove around til we found a starbucks and a Jack in the box. Paul liked my breakfast sandwich better than his so he ate most of mine too.
Started driving towards Vegas. Blogged for most of the way. Paul was transfixed by the scenery which was mostly dirt, rocks and mountains.
"look it's a cactus!". He was all excited.
I glanced up briefly
"it's a joshua tree"
"no it's a cactus it's a California cacturitis"
He likes to make stuff up. I was going to google it but I was too busy.
Stopped at a filthy rest stop that was hotter than the hinges of hell. Packs of crows were hopping around with their beaks open. I don't know why. Maybe birds pant like dogs?
There were two womens restrooms. One said #1 and the other said #2 over the door. They both were equally disgusting so I chose #2. None of the stalls had doors. The toilets were all clogged with wads of tp and feminine products. The handicapped stall seemed the least revolting so I tried to hurry and pee before someone came in and saw me.
Paul waited for me outside at a "not being creepy lurking outside the ladies room" distance.
Went back to the car and got my camera to take a few pictures. Will post later.
Back on the road. Finished blogging about 30 minutes outside of Vegas.
I had booked a room earlier for $40 at the Luxor. It's where we always stay. Plus I wanted to see the Bodies exhibit really badly and it was there.
We found a fairly close spot in the self park and Paul made me carry way too many of my own bags. He wanted to bring the cooler, but what the eff? You get free drinks while you're gambling. We argued about whether to take it or leave it until he tried to pick it up and decided it was too heavy. It was at least a thousand degrees in the parking garage. It was a huge relief to make it inside the casino. We were immediately accosted by a huge guy in a suit.
"checking in?"
I thought he was going to take our bags and was so relieved to give them up. Instead it turned into a 10 minute sales pitch that ended up being some time share crap. Paul basically told them they were dicks for trying to scam us or some crap. I was just tired of carrying all my stuff.
Made it to registration. Upgraded our room to a spa suite for $50.
Dragged all our crap for at least another mile to the elevator. Our room was on the 23rd floor of the pyramid. Paul kept trying to get me to look over the edge of the walkway. My hands got all sweaty and I hugged the opposite wall. I don't think he would REALLY push me over the edge, but you can't be to sure.
Finally made it to our room. It seems to be as far away from the elevator as possible. Our options for the privacy please sign were a hot chick in a bra or carrot top. Later I would count the hot chick beating carrot top 10 to 1 on other doors. Our door sign at the Madonna inn had said "NO MOLESTE!" in huge red letters. Way cooler IMO.
Paul took a shower and we went downstairs to gamble and eff off. He drank 2 scotches in 5 minutes.
The waitress was walking by with someone elses drinks when he yelled and pointed at her tray
"what's that?! I want one of those"
"strawberry daiquiri"
It was a very girly looking drink with whipped cream and everything.
"I'm not pretending that's my drink". I told him. "that's all you"
He was totally giddy when it arrived and kept trying to get me to drink it even though I hate strawberries.
Meanwhile there was a scantily clad chick dancing on a stage amidst the blackjack tables. She was throwing out Mardi Gras beads to the people hucking chips at her.
"omg. Her whole ASS is hanging out!". Paul thought he was whispering.
Gambled for a bit. Had 2 glasses if champagne. Then Paul decides he has to ride the roller coaster and New York New York.
We took the tram over to Excalibur and walked the rest of the way. We kept having to stop so he could make me watch the roller coaster and tell me how awesome it was going to be. I wanted no part of it.
The entrance to the ride was located in the arcade and we had to wade through throngs of booty short clad teens and screaming toddlers. Panic set in for me. I hate crowds. And people. And peoples children.
Paul wasn't allowed to take anything on the ride so I was designated crap holder. I stood around and waited trying to look as much like I wasn't a creepy child murderer as possible. But mostly I was bored. I went into the gift shop and bought some touristy crap. Stood around and waited. Some creepy guy holding 2 beers came up and started talking to me.
"nice tats. You must be from so cal"
"no San Francisco"
"ooh nor cal! Frisco huh"
I tried to ignore him and he finally went away. Paul came out a few minutes later and was all gleeful that he had managed to illegally video tape the ride and then wanted to make me watch it.
I was starving. He had skipped dinner in favor of drinking and it was now midnight.
On our way out I saw the glass meat cabinet in the middle of the casino. Not sure the purpose, but made Paul take a not that flattering picture of me in front of it.
Walked back to our hotel after finding out the tram stopped running at 10:30. I was pretty sweaty, hungry and grumpy at this point. Passed an obvious call girl on the street. Then a priest carrying a little suitcase and smoking a cigarette like it was a joint.
Back at the hotel. Had a quesadilla in the 24 hour cafe. Paul had a chili cheese omelette. We debating drinking some more and finally decided to go back up to our room and get in the jacuzzi. It took over an hour to fill up, but it was worth it.

-- Post From My iPhone

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Road trip day two

July 6

Woke up at 7:30. I had passed out pretty early the night before so I guess it wasn't too surprising. I let Paul sleep until 9:30 while I replied to all my happy birthday texts and facebook messages.
Thanks guys!
Paul was rocking a sweet pink madonna inn bathrobe but he refused to let me take his picture because I would " just blog about it"
We went out to our fancy rock balcony to smoke and stare at the mountains and horses and nature crap. We're interrupted by annoyingly exaggerated coughing from above us. Then the sound of a chair being shoved back and the sliding patio door slamming.
Good riddance, thumping elephant assholes, I thought. They had 3 balconies in their room, which by the way was the one I wanted because it was all pink.
They could go sit on one of the other ones.
I see myself as a considerate smoker. I never have thrown a butt out my car window. I never smoke in non smoking areas. I stay 20 feet from public entrances. I lurk by ashtrays all shameful waiting to get yelled at.
I wasn't to worried about the dicks upstairs. The hotel was very adamant about not smoking in the rooms ($100 minimum fine etc). But there were ashtrays posted every 5 feet outside. And they were giving away hotel matchbooks on every flat surface. Paul's point was that what else were you supposed to do with so many matches besides burn the place down?
I went in to take a shower. It was pretty awesome with all the rocks. Kind of like bathing in a cave. And the pink robe was super soft and stretchy. At least they had a sign warning you that stealing it would result in an extra $55 charge. I was sorely tempted. I got a starbucks doubleshot and went back out to the balcony where Paul still was
Him: I just got yelled at
Me: by who?
Him: the upstairs dicks
Me: what?!
Him: yeah, this chick came all the way down to the parking lot to look up here and yell at me for smoking
Me: what did she say?
Him: she said "don't you know this is a non smoking hotel?!". So I said " no there's just no smoking in the rooms"
Then she got all pissed and stomped off.
Me: what a picnic bitch!
Him: she's probably going down to the front desk to complain right now.
Me: see! I told you you should have let me call and complain yesterday when they were having their elephant party!
Him: I should have

It was almost check out time anyway.
I wanted to go to the gift shop to get something for my mom. Paul was grumpy from the smoking conflict and from not having any coffee yet. I tried to hurry. The gift shop was full of old lady leisure wear. I milled about and pointed at all the creepy clown dolls and tacky souvenirs. Paul was getting annoyed. The saleswoman came over and exclaimed " oh, did you see our new t shirts? " then dragged me over to where they were. It was an Ed hardy style hoodie with Madonna inn all bedazzled on it. Maybe 20 years ago. But I just can't rock clothes with rhinestones at this point in my life. Maybe in another 40 years I'll get a sequined cat sweater.
I happened upon the bathrobes and decided to buy one seems how I couldn't steal one. Paul was still annoyed. I also got a postcard of out room that the saleslady was overly excited to tell me that we got for free for staying there. (score!)
She asked how our stay was and Paul refused to answer.
"we loved our room" I said
"oh, did you get to eat at the steak house? The food is so great!"
More silence.
Somehow she managed to drag the whole story out of him. I was just praying for it to end without bloodshed. The lady wrote down our room number and promised to let the owners know.
"maybe we"ll get a free room fir next time". I said wistfully as we peeled out of the parking lot.
" that chick isn't going to do shit". Paul was still grim.
Time for coffee!
According to the starbucks finder app, one was located inside a barnes and noble only a block away. He didn't want to deal with book store dicks. So we drove another 30 minutes to find a free standing one.
Ordered our coffee
Overly cheerful starbucks girl: how's your guys day so far?!
OCSG: oh well, it can only get better!


Started driving to LA. Our plan was to stay the night with Paul's bff Josh who he's know since they were tiny kids. Josh was working until later that night so he recommended that we check out the museum of death. I literally screamed with glee. Even though I was friends with the MoD on myspace, I had completely forgotten that it was now in LA. I had been there before in 99 when it was San Diego and it's one of my fondest memories of that year. Oh besides meeting my soul mate and stuff.

And it was my effing birthday. Which means that everyone has to cater to my every whim and do all the terrible shit that I want to do. What could be more perfect?

Spent most of the drive blogging about the previous days adventure. Occasionally Paul ( who had snapped out of his misery due to the coffee and my unending cheeriness) would say stuff like "ooh look at that rock!" or "wow it's the ocean and it's all weird"
By the time I looked up, it was gone.

Drove behind a truck emblazoned with the word BIMBO on the back. Also had a cartoon Teddy bear. I was totally enthralled by this.

Made it to the museum of death around 4 o'clock. I was hopping up and down while Paul dragged his slow ass out of the car.
Note on the door said "be back in a minute! :)"
Walked down to a tattoo shop to kill time. Nothing good. Walked back to the museum. They were back!
We paid our admission. Well Paul paid because it was my birthday.
The lady warned us about the extreme graffic nature of the exhibits. I was like a little kid pulling on Paul's sleeve and jumping up and down. I wanted to see dead shit RIGHT NOW!
No photos allowed. Super disappointed. But then the first room was all filled up with antique funeral stuff and wicked looking embalming devices. There was also a tv showing an actual embalming training video complete with a real body being worked on. I was mesmerized. Paul was getting a little woozy because he can't stand the sight of blood so I didn't get to see past breaking the rigor mortis.

There were so many fascinating exhibits there that I can't even remember them all. Partial list:
Severed mummified head of executed French serial killer
Heavens gate bunk bed and clothes
Black dalia crime scene photos
Artwork by John Wayne Gacy, Richard Ramirez, Henry Lee Lucas, and Charles Manson
Taxidermied animals. Including Liberace's cat, Jayne Mansfield s chihuahua, and a bunch of weird albino animals.
Paul kept asking questions and I knew most of the answers thanks to all that murder I watch on tv!
There was a creepy dark room where they were showing a movie but Paul was all deathed out by then. We each got a t shirt before we left. I wish I had bought on of the coffee mugs too :(.
On the way to the car I nagged Paul until he admitted it was the coolest museum ever. It really was freaking awesome and you should totally go.

We still had some time to kill so we found another starbucks so Paul could use the free wi fi. Then drove around some more. Paul lived in LA when we first met and he's a great tour guide:
"my friend worked at that tanning salon and Carmen Electra used to go there"
"this street used to have twin pimps on it"
"this is where all the tranny hookers hang out"
"I saw Weird Al eating a chili dog there"


I wanted to go to the Hustler store when I saw they had a juice bar inside(WTF) but Paul conveniently "forgot" to stop. I totally needed a picture of that. And a hoodie, because I was freezing my ass off because Paul "forgot" to remind me to bring a coat.

We had some awesome pizza at a by the slice place and went to the liquor store where I had a hand wringing fit of indecision over what champagne to get ( Laurent Perrier or French Mumm. Couldn't remember which one I liked better . Went with the LP. It was delightful!)
Met up with Josh at his house. Sat around and talked for awhile and I was able to get on my lap top for a bit. Drank 3 glasses of champagne and went to bed to leave the boys to talk about what ever it is that they talk about. Boobs and carburetors, I imagine. Played Words with Friends until I passed out. Pretty fabulous birthday.

Post From My iPhone

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Road trip day one

Briefly catching up before I get started.
Today is my 36 th birthday.
Lula is still alive and being evil.
Finally got a cortisone shot last Tuesday and my arm is almost normal again.
Paul and I are on vacation this week. Were taking a road trip to Las Vegas. I want to post everyday but as I'm planning on being too drunk or tired to post at night, I'll do the previous days recaps.

Paul wanted to leave our house by 9 am.
As you may know, I am not a morning person. I woke up at 8 and tried to drink some coffee while waiting for Paul to get back with the freaking donuts.
By the time I was ready to leave and Paul had the car packed up it was 10. Oops. Technically it's not my fault. For my birthday Paul paid for me to get fake hair. Well,it's real hair but not grown by me. Just sewed on to my head. Super long and evil and I love it, but an assload of maintenance and drying time. Paul likes the look of it but he's to scared to touch it. For example, here's an excerpt of a convo we had yesterday
Him: if you move your hair out of the way, I'll rub your bad shoulder.
Me: I know you don't want to touch it
Him: that's not true!
Me: then why did you scream like a girl when I made you feel it the other night?
Him: because you told me it came from a dead person

I may have said that, I can't remember. It sounds like me.

Anyway, we hit the road at 10. Nothing too eventful happened until we stopped in salinas to get coffee and a memory stick for Pauls new camcorder.
When we walked into walmart it was total mayhem. The shelves were almost completely empty and what little crap there was left was being swooped upon my hoards of crazed walmart people. amidst all of this and screaming bruised babies, employees were furiously dismantling the fixtures. I thought I was going to have a panic attack. Paul ditched me in cosmetics while he tried to find a memory card. I kind of lurked around for awhile staring at the empty racks and clutching a bottle of sun screen. Finally I decided to go searching for him and found him with a gaggle of frenzied shoppers pawing through some sporting goods. He was super excited about buying a back pack with a two liter bottle and a straw attachment for drinking out of. I'm sure it's supposed to be for water, not booze, but what do I know?
Anyway, then we got to leave. Thinking that self checkout would be faster than waiting in line behind the old hoarder ladies with their basketfuls of plastic wreaths, I picked the wrong line as usual. The girl ahead of us had never used self check out before. The baby in her cart had a black eye and she kept threatening him with alternating punishments of either tying him up or smacking him.
20 minutes later we were able to get out of there and go to office depot for the memory card and el pollo loco for some lunch.
Back on the road. Not much to look at in central california. Well, nothing but agriculture (ps why does asparagus need it's own website?) prisons and mental hospitals. Our stop for the night was the Madonna inn in San Luis Obispo. If you've never heard of it, it's super kitschy with hundreds of tackily decorated theme rooms. I've wanted to stay there forever. The mens room in the lobby has a waterfall for a urinal and I made Paul go in and take pictures. I wad super jealous until I saw the ladies room had hot pink iridescent wall paper. Omg.
Our room had a balcony that they assured us we could smoke on. It was called "the Matterhorn" and came with it's own cowbell. And a shower built out of rocks. It was just as awesome as I imagined it would be. We had a late dinner reservation at the steakhouse there so we decided to take a nap in the meantime. As soon as I fell asleep, some dicks came into the room upstairs. It sounded like there was a thousand of them and that they weighed a ton. I wanted to call and ask for a different room, but Paul wouldn't let me.
Sleeping was out so we walked around and checked our the pool. I started to get hungry so we decided to go to dinner early.
The restaurant was decorated entirely in pink, fake flowers, and huge gilded cherubs. Pink leather round booths, pink water glasses, pink and red flocked wallpaper. It was unreal.
We were served a weird relish tray upon being seated. I wished I had my camera to take a picture. It wad stacked like Lincoln logs with celery, carrots, pickled stuff, salami, and logs of monterey Jack cheese.
We both ordered the filet mignon. Paul had bought me a bottle of Dom for our anniversary so we proceeded to start drinking the hell out of it. Paul wanted to point out that he drank more of it than I did. Which never happens, but I've turned into a light weight in my old age and didn't want to spend my birthday all hung over like last year.
So our food finally arrives. We trade steaks after I cut into mine and see that it's well done. I cut into the other steak that's supposed to be medium and it's well done too.
"send it back" Paul says
I try to eat it anyway. But it sucks. I've never sent food back before, but it s all crispy and terrible. Paul is loving his and points out how it's super expensive so I should be able to get what I want. The waiter was very nice and agreed it was too done. 5 minutes later he returns with a new plate with a huge hunk of meat on it. My baked potato was lost in the process evidently.
It didn't look like a filet which is a kind of tall fat chunk. It looked like a long flat steak. I thought maybe they had butterflied it to cook it faster.
I took a bite and it was cooked correctly, but was not a filet. It was a sirloin. And I hate to sound like a meat snob, but i didn't take animal science in high school for nothing.
I ranted drunkenly to Paul about texture and fibers and got him to taste test it comparing it to his. It took him 3 tries, but finally he agreed that the assholes were trying to eff us over steak wise.
A different waitress came over
"oh that does look weird! " she exclaimed and took it away. I could see into the kitchen from where I was sitting. She was pointing at the steak and the old dick cook was shaking his head and throwing up his hands.
10 minutes later she was back saying the chef had assured her it was a filet, but if I wanted another one it would be 20 minutes.
WTF! At this point we were one of 3 tables in the whole shitty establishment.
I told her I didn't want anything. Not even a free dessert. I was over it.
We got our bill and of course we were charged for 2 filets. I didn't even get to eat. We waited for another 20 minutes for the waiter to return to dispute the bill. He never came back, that ass. So we left a $6 tip on a $100 check and bolted out of there.
Paul was all tanked on dom and came up with a bunch of great revenge plans. My favorite of which was to change the tv remote settings to French. I was convinced that the cook and the waiter would be repelling down from the roof to our balcony to kill us while we slept.
I had a cup of tea and passes out at 11:30. Getting old I guess.
-- Post From My iPhone