nags of a similar ilk

Yeah, so, Doyle invited Kris and I out to dinner. Since we closed the office, I haven't seen him much. Which sucks, actually, as he's a really good companion, coworker and friend. He's been inviting us to events, we just haven't been going.

So, when he invited us out, even if I didn't want to go to the main event, I still wanted to go to dinner with Doyle and Shwu.

The plan was go to the Tofu House. When we arrived, Kris was immediately suspicious. We had eaten here years ago. The food was both awful and potentially very dangerous for Kris, as the soup items were made with fish broth. I vaguely recall being unable to eat my dish as the first bite burned my tongue, both with fire heat and fire hot.

After confirming the broth wasn't fish broth (plain water!), we decided to stay.

All I can say is that it was a REALLY good thing we had Shirley, Steffi, Jimmy and that Asian half of Doyle with us. Kris and I were some of the few non-Asian people in the restaurant and BY FAR the whitest. You know, the white people who can't eat spice? Yeah, that's me.

I thought about trying the "no spice" option, but I did want SOME flavor in my tofu, since I wasn't ordering a meat dish. I was entertained by the menu somewhat by still being able to sound out the Korean letters and words, even if I don't know what the hell I'm saying.

Note to self: really learn a language, okay? This half-ass knowledge of German, Korean and Spanish really sucks. Learn more than English already.

The meal ended up being just simply delicious. I'm not sure that Steffi and Jimmy knew about my current picture taking habits, but at least Doyle and Shirley were nonplussed (which, used here in the colloquial way, means "unperturbed," which is the exact opposite of the original "so surprised they don't know how to react" definition of the word - ah languages, always evolving).

I doubt Kris and I will seek the restaurant out again, but I'll definitely stop by with other friends.

Went to Costco with Andy and Doyle after heading to a movie this afternoon. Going to Costco at 5:45 is not what I would consider going at an optimal time. If i have to wait in line, I'm not there at a particularly good time.

Doyle had said he wanted to go, so I didn't feel too guilty. Okay, that's not quite true. I felt a little awkward dragging Andy to Costco, too, since he hadn't agreed to go before we all carpooled to the movies. However, carpool we did, so he was along for the ride.

By the way, lower your expectations of National Treasure: Book of Secrets. Lower. Loooowwwwerrrrr. Lllllooooooowwwwwweeeeerrrrrrr. Okay, now, remember the suspension of disbelief might be difficult with this one, and go see it. Maybe. As a matinee. At a $2 theatre.

So, yeah, Costco. Off we went. We parked near the front door, which I never do. I usually park over by the Krispy Kreme where the tasty Hot Fresh Now donuts are, then load up on carbs at said Krispy Kreme before hoofing across the parking lot to Costco.

Neither Andy nor Doyle wanted any of the delicious sugar covered fat bombs, so I parked close.

Did I mention I forgot my camera again? I really need to stop that, because you might have seen a video of Andy's spectacular shopping cart ride into the Costco if I actually had my camera. Instead, you'll have to imagine it. This is what you should imagine: some crazy woman pushing a cart at a quick speed, with some slender man hanging off the side of the cart, barely leaning to keep it from tipping over completely to the left, while another man with a booming voice calls out to the woman to push off and just let go already. Which she does. Not that the man on the cart can actually steer the cart. So, she lets go, and the cart goes rolling, and the man on the cart needs to keep it both upright, and straight, lest the looming SUV to the left become a target.

No cars were injured in the filming of this escapade.

Once in the store, I made a straight line for the books, er, the laundry detergent, passing through a big stack of doggie beds on my way. Oooooooo! My dogs love these doggie beds! I thought, as I chucked a green one into the cart.

"Do you need that?" Andy, my corporeal conscience, asked.

"The dogs love them!" I answered.

"Don't you already have two of them?"

"Well, yes."

"Are you getting a third dog?"

"Well, no. Not unless I can convince Kris to get a 9" pocket beagle."

"Oooooooh-kaaaaaaaay...."

I put the dog bed back.

At top speed, losing Doyle and Andy about three times with my mad dash through the store, I managed to fill up my cart with toliet paper, toothpaste, laundry detergent and shaving gel - all items we needed, all items on my list, no items not on my list. I was as quick as I could be and as efficient, too, leaving Andy to wait for a few minutes in line as I retrieved the last item on my list. He was remarkably patient, given I think (I project) he dislikes being around crowds of people as much as I do.

Yeah, early morning probably would have been better, but not nearly as much fun.

Or as inexpensive. I saved $20 by not buying that bed.

And spent it on the $41 roll of stamps. Can't even buy stamps in low numbers these days at Costco.

Doyle and I went out for our last company meal together. CodingClan has been buying company lunches for a year or so now, which is nice because not only do we save money individually, but we also have that extra hour to talk about work. It's a good check-in time with a casual atmosphere.

Since we realized it would be the last meal of the year, and of the company, instead of heading off to our usual haunts, we decided to go out in style and went to the really expensive Italian that we've been to only twice before, and the first time was by mistake. We knew what we were getting in for, so we decided to go early and enjoy the meal.

We arrived at the restaurant at 11:50, figuring most people would arrive afternoon. We were wrong. The entire restaurant was full, and not just with big company groups. All of the small tables were full, the big ones full. After waiting a few minutes, our choices were outside (brrr.....) or at the bar, with a fantastic view of the inner workings of the kitchen.

Well, duuhhhh.

Just after we sat down, the waitress came up to ask us if we wanted anything to drink. I must have offended her somehow by saying I was fine with water, as that question was the last time we were helped in a timely manner.

At some point while I was waiting for my water, bread showed up. Not really wanting to spoil my appetite for the blackened salmon with a fine cheese and scallop sauce I was going to order, I avoided the break as long as I could, right up until the point where I had to turn my stomach inside out and start gnawing on my insides.

Eventually, the waitress returned and we ordered our meals. We then commenced waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

We supposedly managed to order before the big group behind us even arrived. I'm not so sure we managed that feat. I had much to ponder, as we waited. Did I mention we waited? Yeah, we waited. And waited.

We entertained ourselves during the waiting by commenting on the various aspects of the kitchen, of which we had a fantastic view. We wondered if the sandwich chef would run out of orders before he ran out of bread in the stack within easy reach. We pondered how much easier our cooking lives would be if we cooked with vegetables already cooked.

And our pasta precooked.

And our cheese presliced.

We determined we'd be much faster. So fast, in fact, that our waiting for our meal seemed out of place.

Yet, we continued to wait.

Eventually, as some point close to an hour after we had arrived, our meals arrived. Doyle's looked tasty, and he took to it with gusto.

Mine looked strange. Sure, the vegetables looked fine, and were just barely crunchy making them cooked nearly perfectly.

The risotto though? We've been here twice before and both times I ordered some risotto dish of some sort. I really really really like risotto. What was on my plate, though billed as "with a side of risotto," was not risotto.

It was a ball of rice.

A ball of no taste (well, a hint of rice taste), bland, barely stuck together rice, in a lump on the back side of my plate. I doubt I would have noticed it much if its plainness wasn't in such sharp contrast to the neon orange pile on the plate closer to me.

Why did I forget my camera today? How could I have been so dumb?

I looked closely at the salmon on the plate in front of me. Yes, yes there appeared to be some salmon under this topping. Oh, look, the topping is sorta solid. If I nudge it, hey, look, it moves a little bit, then pushes back.

Doyle and I had spent close to an hour watching these chefs in front of us. They seemed knowledgable. They knew their way around the kitchen, how back could it be? Tasty the fish.

You know that scene in Ratatouille where the first bite of that one plate, that signature plate, sends the food critic tumbling back through his life to a happy, happy moment? Yeah, well, that first bite sent me tumbling back through my life, too.

Only I landed in college dipping tortilla chips into a jalapeno nacho cheese sauce from a can.

I will swear the neon orange sauce on the incredibly well seasoned and cooked blackened salmon in front of me at that moment was indeed some Cheeze Whiz or ultra pasteurized cheese food product with some hot peppers thrown in. Could this meal get any worse?

Yes, but only because twenty minutes after I had finished the half of the meal I could stand to finish, I had to lean back in my chair with my arms crossed over the back of my head and nearly start whistling before the waitress returned to our bar area to ask if we wanted the check or dessert.

Good lord woman, it's our last meal. Bring us dessert! There had to be some redeeming quality of this restaurant to warrant the prices on these menus.

There wasn't.

I almost felt the last meal experience was a symbol for something. It was trying to tell in metaphorical terms about how it summed up the last three years working freelance and in my own company.

I couldn't hear the message, though. I was too busy leaving a crappy tip.

Oh, and in case you were wondering: that chef ended his shift with exact correct number of bread rolls in the stack within easy reach. He used the last one and, by the time we finally left, they were more-or-less done with taking orders, so he most likely made no more sandwiches. The man is skilled beyond reason in the art of bread stack counts.

I mentioned to Doyle at lunch today that I was visiting Mom next Tuesday and Wednesday. His first reaction was surprise (in the middle of the work week?); his second was curiousity. "So, do you schedule these visits months in advance and just forget to tell me, or is this a 'Hey, a trip sounds good!' and you bought tickets just now so I'm letting you know?"

No, no, nothing like that. I had booked the tickets yesterday with a Southwest credit that was, well, expiring at the end of the month. Not that I have credits to burn or something. Or something. Given my schedule for the holidays and various weekends' activities, this was the best time to go, so off I'm going. I mentioned I had to spend another $40 over my credit, but better to spend $40 not to lose $200 than to lose the $200.

Who would have thought such logic would send Doyle into a rant? I didn't, but off he went.

"Why do people think they're saving money by spending it? It's like spending A and B going to the Sports Basement at a sale and spending $400 on crap. She showed me her stuff and said, 'Look what I got! I saved 80%!' She didn't save 80%, she spent $400! 'But look at these yoga pants! They were only $20! Normally, they're $80!' But you don't even do yoga!"

He kept going all the way to the restaurant we were going to for lunch. I think that was the most words I'd ever heard from him in one string. Ever.

I need to find more of his trigger buttons. These rants are fun.