OK, OK, I know. It's my fault. What was I doing at Red Lobster? I'm sorry, but the commercials really make you wanna go and I hadn't been in... in... quite a few years. So off we went, me dragging along wife and daughter, wondering how I managed to sell the idea. Red Lobster doesn't believe in taking reservations. They much prefer having dozens of people loitering haplessly in their entryway, and it gives unattended children a perfect opportunity to tap (bang, slap, lick) the glass of the big lobster tank. (If your lobster has a funny taste, it's because of the psychic trauma of unattended lobby children.) I realize that Red Lobster is not a fancy dining establishment. I don't honestly expect patrons to wear dinner jackets and elegant cocktail dresses (but would that really be so wrong?). My comments have less to do with sartorial formality and more to do with their direct impact on my appetite. Men Wear pants. I mean really. Is that so much to ask? Yes, I know this is a seafood restaurant, but that is not an invitation for you to proudly display your flabby, bone-white flesh that looks amazingly similar to the poached flounder. I'm trying to eat here and you're not helping.
And your shirt. Here's a hint: If your shirt has dinner stains and your still in the lobby waiting to be seated, you probably should have changed before going out. And I know that lots of men love their baseball caps and trucker caps and so forth. But I can't believe your mother let you leave it on at the dinner table. If she did, well shame on her. Take off your damn hat! Women Bare feet on a woman can be an incredibly sexy, seductive sight. Unless off course you have size 23 feet, with peeling green nail polish (at least I hope that's nail polish), bunions and an eau de vie that can make grown men cry. And by the way, you're out with your family. Why are you on the phone? While you are eating! Parents Just because it's called a "family restaurant" doesn't mean that I have adopted your children. I do not know them, but if I did, I would not like them. And if they knew me, they would not like me. When you are sitting at your table and the seat next to you is empty, that's because your child has wandered off to annoy the waitstaff or one of the other dinner patrons (that would be me). That doesn't seem to concern you in the slightest. Your child is talking to "a stranger" (again, me). You never know, I could be a bad man, or worse, a catholic priest. And if I have to mind your kids, then I want some babysitting money. And another thing, parents. Your table does not come with a designated "debris field." Food ought to remain "at least somewhere" on the table. Perhaps I'm being selfish, but seeing your child's food on the floor (especially when I have ordered the same item) does make my own food seem somehow less special, less appealing. Alright, I'll stop before I say something like "you damn kids get off my lawn." (Well, THAT'S a topic for another day.)
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