4:23 p.m. - 2005-11-17
File under “I hate it when this happens”
I noticed today while conducting some personal business that I have my panties on inside-out. How irritating. Had I not been wearing tights, I probably would have rectified the situation right then and there by flipping them, but who wants to go through the torturous process of removing tights, flipping underwear around, and then struggling back into said tights while navigating the confines of the Ladies’? Not me.
I guess, though, that it’s a good sign of my attitude today. No wonder I’ve felt all a-hoo. I can’t start or finish any project appropriately. I’ll be goddamned lucky if I get this webpage up today for your consideration. (And who are you? I don’t know.) So. I’m a-hoo in my head and a-hoo in my hoo-ha. My hoo-ha is a-hoo. Can you tell I’m enamoured of this phrase?
Exemplum. a.k.a. Try the Steak Tacos
Something I can’t finish writing…
Restaurant Review: El Rancho (Columbia, MO)
The other day, Joey and I had lunch at the only “Mexican” restaurant in Columbia that doesn’t think that canned Cheez® and pickled jalapeño slices equal first-rate cuisine. Creatures of habit, Joey usually orders the steak burrito with no lettuce, and I typically order chicken tacos with soft corn tortillas. This day, though, I went wild. I ordered steak tacos with the soft corn tortillas and some guacamole for good measure. Why not? I’d just gotten paid. Two drinks and $15.89 on my Visa debit card later, Joey and I were enjoying some best-we-can-get-in-this-town food. As is normal, we picked up our own food, we bussed our own table (even wiping it down), we tipped ourselves by writing in only the total spent on food in the “TOTAL” line of the receipt and a big, fat “---0---“ as a tip on the receipt.
Fast forward to today, when I’m reconciling my receipts against my purchases via Online Banking. There, from El Rancho, is a request against my paltry bank account for $19.06.
I call the restaurant. I ask for the manager. Faustino (oh god. See below) tells me that he’s really not sure why, but he gets 25-30 calls a month on this sort of thing, and that if a bank sees that I’ve not added a tip to my bill, they will add one for me: “Because, you know, if you look at it…if you really do the math and see…it’s like a 14% tip.” Why? Why would my bank do that? Are they forcing me to be a Good Samaritan? I argue with Faustino for a little bit, before I give up, disgusted: “Whatever, Dude. I’ll call my bank.” “Yes, yes you should do that. ‘Cause you know, it’s not our fault that you’ve been overcharged. We turned in…how much did you say your receipt is for? Yeah, yeah….we turned in $15.89.”
I call my bank. My bank, I am told by the operator, has Higher Standards. So I ask Emily, the operator, if these Higher Standards include adding a tip onto a bill at a restaurant: “No ma’am, they do not. Do you have a problem?” Yes, yes I do. Well, according to Emily, the restaurant (you know, the one that isn’t responsible for this misinformation?) turns in a generic amount against my account and it all settles out in the wash.
Why can’t I finish writing it? Because the next day, the correct amount posted to my bank account. Still. The manager, Faustino (and what the hell kind of name is that? I so should have known. Faustino. That’s just asking for trouble.), was totally talking out of his ass. No bank automatically puts a tip on. That’s just a bunch of crap.
Will you still need me? Will you still feed me? When I’m THIRTY-FIVE?
I have no idea what to get Joey for his birthday, and he’s not being very forthcoming about it. I guess I didn’t help him much, either, when I turned elderly a month ago. I did suggest a few books, and I made him take me to my favourite restaurant. We’ve got this big, long, Thanksgiving holiday to do something with – and I’ve no clue what to make of it. A tattoo? A trip to Chicago to enjoy the blustery weather and the public transit self-touch-a-thon (with which mimi smartypants has entirely too much experience?
Oh, who knows. Maybe I’ll just plug in his recently purchased fog machine and *fade into incoherent-yet-sexy mumble*….
I had other crap to say, but I can’t remember a dang thing about it.
Jewelry is the gift to give,
'cause it's the gift that'll live and live.
So give the gift you know can't fail
From B.C. Clark's anniversary sale.
Most sales are after Christmas
But Clark's is just before.
'Most everything is marked way down,
Savings you can't ignore
At Oklahoma's oldest jewelers,
Since 1892.
So give the gift you know can't fail
From B.C. Clark's anniversary sale.
