And let me just put this out there - I love salads. That's right - my plushy and plentiful posterior is not from lack of nutrition. I LOVE SALADS - so when I saw a new one on the simplistic menu - I nearly swooned and I ordered it. Within a few minutes and a conversation revolving around all things automobile-ic - I was happily presented with a large mountain of veggies. I started picking at it. And eating the bits of beans in it. And the bits of sprouts. And the tiny grape tomatoes. But, even though the name of the salad I had ordered was called "Roma Tomatoes with Sweet Onions" I found nary a Roma nor onion.
"Excuse me, miss?" I asked our tiny blonde server. "I've nudged all the lettuce, beans and bits aside and still can't find a Roma Tomato or an Onion in it at all!"
She grabbed my plate - and ran.
I just sat there - stunned.
"Have you seen the new Coach bags?" Meme asked from the other side of the table, distracting me.
"Uh - yeah - Poppy is it?" I answered.
"Oh yes! I saw it on the computer. I think they're nice."
"And they seem to come in good sizes..." I said looking around to see if the waitress had decided to try to sneak out the door rather than admit there was a mistake with my food. I was still hungry!
"Yes. They have 12 inches and they have 10 inches too. I can't handle the 12 inches," she smiled and stroked her handbag which was on the table. "but I like the 10 inches just fine!"
I tried not to smile. I tried not to let my perverted thoughts get the best of me and I tried like hell not to make eye contact with Harry who was obliviously destroying a piece of dinner bread.
"I agree completely. Sometimes they're just too big," I said.
Which was a wrong thing to say. And I'm still giggling over it!