Here Comes the Flood

There’s a restaurant on the corner near where we live, and since it’s well established that I can’t cook, we go there often, and by often, I mean at least three times a week. And while the food is fine, lovely, whatever, what draws both of us back, time and time again, is that they have the hottest waitresses I’ve ever seen. Every last one of them is smokin’ hot, and last week, one of the bartenders was wearing a corset! And hot pants! And while the corset/hot pants combo is a little much, I totally have a crush on two of them, to Adam’s endless delight. But damn, really, they are hot.

We spent the weekend with my parents in Pennsylvania, which was lovely, if uneventful, but did you know that Newark airport is really…well, terrible? You did! I know you did! And while intellectually I knew this too, it’s quite a different form of realization when you experience it first-hand. Especially when that experience includes TSA agents calling customers “fucking retarded dumbasses” and screeching to a Muslim couple – half of which was in a burqa, oh my God – that “all the Indians up in this piece are DUMBASSES, yo. Oh, I mean, no offense. If you’re Indian. You be Indian? Aw, shit, you be Indian. No offense. No offense.”

Security was also in full force when we found ourselves seated in an area where we were the only couple where the man wasn’t wearing a yarmulke, and we marveled at the circumstances, because really, what are the chances? It wasn’t until a few minutes later that we realized we’d accidentally been steered to a private super-secure area solely for passengers on an upcoming flight to Tel Aviv.

In other words, the Newark TSA employs some of America’s finest.

But! Most importantly, I saw snow! Lots and lots of snow! HAHAHAHAHA snow. I don’t be in love with the snow, but on that first day, when we got to my parents’ house, and there was nothing but gorgeous falling snow and we had nowhere to be? That was pretty cool. I miss that.

Sundry has already highlighted some of the…less than savory parts of Weight Watchers, and let it be known that those issues are fairly universal, at least in this household. But what no one really tells you about is what happens when you save up all of your Flex Points and go hog wild one weekend (with cookies!) and get so incredibly sick… and when you just can’t take it anymore, you happen to be in the bathroom of a tiny little Hungarian restaurant where your husband is trying desperately to smile his way through two giant (GIANT) deep fried Hungarian meatballs, and your plate of pork and sauerkraut is getting cold, oh so cold, but it is full! of! fiber!

Well, in my case, what happened is that I flooded – quite literally, flooded – the one-stall ladies room, which was dangerously close to the kitchen and was forced to tell the Hungarian real estate agent-cum-host (“I sell you property next door!”) that the ladies room toilet overflowed, which caused such a wild panic that he screamed in front of the whole restaurant, “THIS YOUNG LADY FLOOD BATHROOM AND BLOCK TOILET. HAND ME MOP.”

I returned to my sauerkraut and caught my parents and husband trying to hold back tears of laughter when I confessed that my overzealous toilet paper usage stopped up yet another toilet, and they interrupted with, “WE HEARD. WE ALL HEARD!” followed by braying laughter and a lecture from my dad that I’ve always used too much toilet paper ever since I was a kid. And to that I can only ask: seriously, too much toilet paper? I mean, no one wants to use an entire ROLL in one sitting, but come on.

Also, and perhaps most importantly: many people have ordered, and some have even received it in the mail already. My God.

*Peter Gabriel

17 comments March 19th, 2007