breadsticks from hell : part i
Inspired by Rain —
There is a long and tragic series of calamitous events that led up to me being on this date. Let’s skip the sordid details and just get to the date —
I met him at the restaurant. It was a nice restaurant. Table clothes. China. Candles. The guy was there. Spruced. I had been resistant to this date. Had not wanted to go. But it looked like it might be okay —
And then the wait person set down —
The breadsticks from hell.
And it was a dead date.
Deader than dead.
It was a date gone horribly wrong.
You have not truly considered the social ramifications of breadstick until someone has chewed one directly in front of you with his mouth open. [Open is maybe not emphatic enough. Wide open. Gaping open. A freaking maw of openness.]
And then another breadstick.
And then another.
And another.
I was not across the table from a human. I was across the table from a cement mixer. And the strain of trying to keep my face frozen in an expression of bland complacency and mild interest was taking its toll. My vision was going hazy. My ears were starting to ring. I remember something about how he thought screenwriting competitions blow. And thinking vaguely above the ringing that was a weird thing to say to someone who won some awful big competitions. Food arrived. I could stare at my plate. Thank God. I did not want to see what was happening to his main course. Hearing it was enough. It went on. And on. A drone of conversation. I replied single syllables I do not remember. And the chewing. Huge. Loud. Unending mastication. Which drowned out logic. Drowned out reason. Drowned out meaning. But. Finally. The check came. And it was over —
Um. Not quite.
Cement Mixer was a planner. There was a pool place across the street. He knew I liked pool. He had picked this restaurant to be a continuing date. Weakened and confused, I half stumbled was half dragged to the pool place.
Not a bread stick in sight. Thank God. I picked a cue.
To Be Continued…. [and by the way I am putting the links in now and have no idea how that will work out, ooh la la, mystery and confabulation]
:::breadsticks from hell : part i:::
:::breadsticks from hell : part ii:::
:::breadsticks from hell : part iii:::
goaded by stilletto | inspired by rain
where the art work came from :
that is crossed by joe hendry
43 Responses to breadsticks from hell : part i
Ugh ugh ugh!
Sometimes those open mouth eaters spit on you when they chew – you are lucky a piece of chewed breadcrumb did not land on your nose. [or did it?]
Oh I am decorous I would not include a detail like that.
[That is totally gross Michele did that happen? Ahhh!]
Thanks for using my Crossed art and including a link. Best Regards
Joe
Thanks for making it, Joe. It is very beautiful to me.
I have eaten across from a spitter before. A female, but disgusting nonetheless.
Huh? You didn’t conspire with the kitchen to poison him? Something to think of for next time.
“Wide open. Gaping open. A freaking maw of openness.”
— Not even light escapes the black hole…
“Cement Mixer was a planner.”
LMFAO… Lucky you!
There needs to be a course in high school, “Classy Dates 101 – How Not To Disgust The Person You’re With”
He didn’t get spaghetti and slurp noodles, too, did he?
Oh god Max. This could work as a great campaign for Olive Garden’s competition – “The Pitfalls of the Neverending Bread Stick Concept and Why It Could Work Against You. Come to Joey’s Italian, where we’re too goddamn cheap to even throw down a basket.”
Can’t wait for Part II and III.
LOL…
Cut to, “Cement Mixer” mouth agape cramming never ending carbs into his giant maw.
Dissolve to, “Olive Garden” revelry where you too may partake of the same unsightly buffoonery… Family style!
Perhaps he was intentionaly trying to break down your will by overexposing you to disgusting habits and spitefull conversation. The old “Shock and awe…why don’t you chew with your mouth closed” approach to social domination.
This is why my first dates are usually semi-neutral wanderings where either party can escape with minimal social discomfort.
Well, I was definitely in shock.
By the way it is a good thing Joe Hendry likes that I posted and linked his art work because I have sort of a tryptic Joe Hendry thing going here to link all three parts. Whew.
It’s okay Max, he was probably a mental patient on a weekend pass or something- I’ve heard they let them out sometimes.
amm
It forged a totally new philosophy for me in life: You cannot fully trust a man until you have seen him eat.
And don’t forget…when you’re out check to see how he treats the wait-staff or clerks.
Well yeah. I have slung hashbrowns and gin. It would not go over well with me, someone getting impolite with staff.
“You cannot fully trust a man until you have seen him eat.”
Or a women until you’ve seen her shop.
Uh oh.
[I am hiding the receipts now.]
So, um, regaining my composure…
What is the shopping story?
There is just something about the act that reveals character. How they react under mild stress, the degree of avarice, decisiveness, how long they make me stand helplessly in a women clothing store while they try on various outfits.
There is something charming about a big strong man rendered helpless by a women’s clothing store. All his muscle, skill, and wit cannot save him there.
The role of a man standing in a women’s clothing store is to say “yes” when asked if the outfit looks good on you. And “no” to “do I look fat?”
I think men take me shopping because I get so happy shopping. I had a boyfriend who would wake me up birthdays with, Let’s go shoe shopping. After we can ride horses. And it was his idea.
He was a pretty great boyfriend except for that sleeping with strippers thing.
Oh well.
I could never get German to go horse riding. He has issues with horses, little brain vs body mass, or something like that anyway.
Thankfully, he has the same issue with strippers. Won’t ride them either.
I have not actually been riding in ages. I should do something about that.
Tell your current man that riding makes women horny. He might just buy you a horse!
“He was a pretty great boyfriend except for that sleeping with strippers thing.”
— Ah, the old he would have been great except for the fact that he wasn’t… Substitute a “she,” and you have the story of my life.
Oh well. I learned something. People who arbitrarily accuse you of things you would not do do that because they would.
Oh Max, that is so true [your last statement].
Ick. Horses. Here we go again.
Oops. I forgot your horse issues.
Hopefully it’s lingerie shopping, AJ.
Yes, Max, if you ever dream that you are making love to a talking horse, it’d leave sour taste in your mouth.
Sleeping with strippers thing? Is that sort of like being addicted to Vicodin or something?
Is there a support group for that? lol
At least he didn’t ask you if you liked “See-food”. The date was bad enough as is. Trust me, I know bad dates.
Okay now I am going to have bad dreams. Yipes.
I do not know if it is like a Vicodin thing. I know it is like a stupid thing.
I’m just horrified there’s a part three as well as a part two. Run away, Max, run away!
LOL — Yes that is really the scariest part.
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I laughed so hard reading this! I am sorry it happened but it was sooo funny.
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