"Today I hit the thrift shop looking for bait. I'd recently decided to take up fly fishing and thought the thrift shop was as good as any place to start looking for a catch. So I walk in, past those hip shoulder-padded lady-suits and Acapulco shirts to the old lady at the desk. I ask her what she recommends for fly fishing and she points me to a back door with a bright glowing red exit sign. Just beyond is the a great big blue dumpster. I tell her I'll sleep on it, I've always been more of a rodeo man."
That was today, Valentine's day. I didn't think it would happen this year to be honest. Last Monday, I made reservations at a place called Avenue 805. Typically, this restaurant boast a deal they call "Cheap Date Night" on Mondays and Tuesdays. Apparently, this deal isn't available on Valentines Day. Instead, they have a different deal for $10 more.
Lately, I've made a habit of leaving restaurants before I order. I've done it a handful of times and everytime I tell the waitress I'm not interested and am leaving.
So tonight, when me and my date found out about this "Valentine's Dinner Special" I was more or less dissappointed. The last thing I was drop the big Not Interested Sign on another waitress (which I recently found out they aren't called anymore, they're referred to as "servers" like that's any different AND if your income relies on how much I tip you, I'm gonna call you what I want,) but I decided I'm not confined to socially accepted behaviors. I shouldn't have to sit here and pay $10 more for entrees, appetizers and desserts that I don't like.
Oh, and I've never wanted to burn every vineyard in the world like I did when I heard what the waitress was offering. I don't care about the crazy Italian words coming out of your mouth.
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