I'd like a hawaiian pizza, hold the hawaiian.

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

So it starts with the glue tube of empty promises. “Dries clear!” it proclaims. “Yay!” I think, and apply it liberally to my carefully, beautifully decoupaged cigar box, so I can affix doo-dads and thingamajigs to it, and present it to my darling manager, whose birthday was two days ago.

It didn’t dry clear.

Feeling like a kindergartener bringing home a tin can pencil holder with radiatori glued to it and spray painted, I sheepishly and with many reservations and explanations handed over the goofy looking cigar box (seen here). Her eyes grew wide, and she assured me: “Your feelings are in this. Your hands were on this. You thought of me when you made this and that is important to me.” Sigh. I still wish I could have… but it’s done now and she can squirrel it away in a dark corner and I’d understand.

Our boss whisked her away for a birthday dinner, and while she was out her father called.

Her father doesn’t speak a word of English. He is Czech.

I know three Czech words. So I said them. A rough translation would be: “Hello, hello, Mirka, ladybug.” He laughed very, very hard, for a very, very long time. Or perhaps he was crying. I don’t know. Eventually, he hung up. Laughing. Or crying.

My manager was happy that I had tried. This time next year, I swear, I will know how to say “she went out for dinner and will call you back.” That or, “Sure, she’s right here!”

Sigh.

So today we were supposed to have a big birthday dinner. Present her with a very nice gift, go for sushi, have some fun. Our boss told my co-worker and I she would pick us up after work. My co-worker and I sat on the grass across the street, while she talked about pot brownies. Sigh.

An hour later, no boss.

And no manager. Who, you know, the whole night was for. My ankle was throbbing. I have it in some kind of ankle wrap. It swelled up. Co-worker’s ex walked by. She talked to him about her new man. And pot brownies. Sigh.

I hobble home after boss shows up, as it is getting dark, and they all want to go off and do whatever with no manager. I want to go home and eat. My boss gave me a hug and told me I smelled good. It’s true. I really do. I should. I used the lotions our store sells.

I get groceries tomorrow, so the cupboards are bare. My husband suggests pizza. I want something disgusting, gooey, and artery clogging. If I’m going to eat bad, I’m going to go all the way, damnit. Pizza Hut, stuffed crust… ah, hawaiian. Get some fruit on there. I’m only in it for the quepapas, anyway. I hop online and order the pizza.

Only when I finish ordering, I look at the order summary. It says:

…

Sigh.

My husband called them and corrected the order. They laughed and laughed and laughed. I’m tired. I just wanted to ramble.

Tell me a story. It doesn’t have to have a point. [Homer Simpson]I like stories.[/HS]

2

Once upon a time (two weeks ago) I stopped by Arby’s on my way home from work. Dinner wouldn’t be for several hours yet. A sandwich would hit the spot and tide me over.

I ordered a Beef 'n Cheddar, hold the sauce.

The counter boy seemed slightly confused. “If you don’t want the sauce, do you want to just order a regular roast beef?”

That would be a good point if I was talking about the cheddar sauce. I wasn’t.

“I meant the red ranch shi–uh, crap. I don’t like it.”

“Oh! Okay. Your total will be…”

I got a good laugh out of it. Though I’d still order the cheddar with no cheddar if I wanted a regular - I like the onion bun.

3

Oh, yes. And everyone lived happily ever after. The end.

4

Pizza Hut? Pizza Hut? Pagliacci’s is the only delivery pizza in Seattle!

(I thought your creation was beautiful.)
I can teach you to do stained glass, if you want. You could do a suncatcher in a couple hours.

5

Personally, I like Hooter’s. I probably eat lunch there twice a week on average. Not always the same one, there are at least a dozen in the metroplex, and since I work all over the area, if one is relatively close, that’s where I go for lunch.

About 90% of the time I order the same thing - Cheeseburger, medium, mustard and mayonnaise with squirrely fries and iced tea. I could order this in my sleep, and possibly have once or twice.

Aaaanyway, on one visit to one of the area Hooter’s, I placed my customary order. Now, I don’t know if this particular waitress was new or not. I mean, how can you tell if they’re new? They’re all so darned young and perky! So our conversation went like this:

me: “I’d like a cheesebrger, medium, mustard and mayonnaise with squirrely fries and iced tea.”

her: “Okay, cheeseburger, medium, mustard and mayo, curly fries and iced tea. Would you like cheese on that?”

me: “On my cheeseburger?”

her: “Yes, do you want cheese?”

me: “Yes, please put cheese on my cheeseburger.”

her: “OH! Ha-ha, yeah, I guess cheese WOULD go on a CHEESEburger. Oops, sorry about that! (laughs some more) Now, would you like some curly fries with your CHEESE-burger?”

me: “Sure. That’d be swell.”

Amazingly. I did get what I ordered, and not a plate of hot wings and a diet Coke, so she got her tip. Still, it was a surreal conversation.

BTW, this was an isolated incident. The service at Hooter’s has always been excellent.

6

I had a hamburger one time where they held the burger.

I was running late one Sunday afternoon and starving so I stopped at the Carl’s Jr. about a mile from my house and ordered their Western Cheeseburger at the drive-thru, collected it then went on home. I opened up the newspaper I’d neglected before leaving and started reading it while munching on the burger. I was paying more attention to the paper than to the burger so I was several bites into it when a thought floats through my head, “Damn, they put a lot of barbeque sauce on this one.”

Another bite or two and a more insistant thought pops up, “I’m not getting any beef taste here at all. Or texture.” I put down the paper and pry the burger open for inspection. Bun: Check. BBQ sauce: Check. Cheese, two slices: Check. Onion ring: Check. Beef patty: Sorry pal.

It’s a two mile round trip to the store and back and besides, I could see them laughing. “You got a third of the way through before you noticed? Moron.” So I finished my cheese no-burger then supplemented it with a can of tuna. After that, when I’d buy anything there I’d always do an inspection, including unwrapping the main event.

7

I love Carl’s Jr, but, it is the only place I’ve ever gotten completely RAW as in cold, uncooked (not undercooked) chicken. It too, was smothered in BBQ sauce, bacon, lettuce, onions etc. It was at a drive through, on a Saturday afternoon. The person doing the ordering was polite, and it was our first time at that store. Luckily, we were going to eat in the parking lot, so I was able to cause a serious scene. We got lots of coupons for free food, and big apologies from the manager.

8

I started ordering my pizzas with no cheese on half since my SO has a mild dairy allergy but dammit I want some pizza. The first time I did this, he was so excited, I thought he was going to explode. He said he hadn’t had pizza since they found out he inherited his mom’s dairy allergy about 8 years ago.

Why he never thought of asking for a cheese-less pizza before is the mind boggling part for me!

9

Well, I was wearing an onion on my belt, which was the style in those days. It was a yellow onion. You couldn’t get white onions because of the war. Anyway…
Thank you, Grampa Simpson!

Oh- and I like the box!

10

Many, many years ago, when the dinosaurs roamed the Earth…

OK, not that long ago. Just when I was in college. Anyway, it was Spring and some of us from the dorm decided to celebrate the end of the grey days by going to lunch and a movie on a Saturday afternoon. There was a restaurant close to the movie theater where two of us had eaten before; we heartily recommended it and there we went, all 12 of us. Our friends were quite surprised by our meal choices: “salad and steamed fish? Are you two ok?” Yes, we assured them, we’re fine.

The waiter took away our plates and brought the dessert menu, which the two of us returned unopened: “A Shangai cup” “me too”. When our friends saw that scrumptious building of pleasure, they understood the salads and boring fish…

Three large balls of ice cream, natual whipped cream, nuts and honey. And it was BIG. We’d just been “saving some space”, none of the other girls were able to finish their own desserts.

A pity that restaurant went out of business years ago; I’d go back just for the Shangai Cup.

11

Ah, counter jockeys. Such fun I have had with them over the years. And by “fun” I mean “thoughts of smacking them upside the head, with or without a large trout.” Here’s a couple off the top of my head.

I Know Not Of Which You Speak

A couple buddies and I are cruising around the neighbourhood a number of years ago and decide to stop in to a Tim Horton’s for some coffee.

“I’d like a large double-double, please.” I ask nicely.
“Coffee?” She asks vaccuously.

*Dessert For Dinner!

It’s the weekend, about a year ago. The wife complains of hunger, and frankly I could use something myself. She wants Taco Bell. Fortuntately we live about 300 feet from a mall whose food court happens to contain one. One that we’ve patronized quite often. One where they used to know us on sight until the revolving door of their employment queue started thinking it was attached to the back of a riverboat that really needed to be somewhere. All the same I stand in line and make my order when I get to the front. Two taco supremes, one burrito supreme, one fries supreme. Supreme is good. They make the food. I take the food home. We dish out the food. We bite generously into the food, enjoying the flavour mixture of soft flour tortilla, beef, refried beans, cheese, cake icing, tomatoes, oni–

…

Hang on. Hold up.

One of these things is not like the others. One of these things isn’t even kind of the same. In fact, one of these things, in the context of a burrito, is the next best thing to an emetic.

One of these things is cake icing.

We looked at each other, our brains trying very hard to make this work, to frame it in some way that could make this acceptable if only it could be considered in the right light. But it just didn’t work. The universe simply has no use for a frosted burrito.

The food is ejected forcefully – hers in the toilet, mine in the garbage. I managed to hold down that which was not birthday burrito. My wife’s constitution wasn’t quite so hardy.

Ultimately I pack everything back up and return it whence it came. The manager was there, as he was when I ordered, though he obviously wouldn’t remember just another customer in a long day full of customers. I ask for him specifically though, and state my case uniquivocally.

“These burritos and tacos have icing on them!” I say, rather upset.
“What?” he asked. I don’t know if he didn’t hear the word or didn’t understand the concept.
“Icing,” I repeated, enunciating as clearly as possible and indicating the foodstuffs. “these were made with icing.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. He just wasn’t getting it. Under the circumstances I could sort of understand it – where the hell would Taco Bell get icing? They have no use for it. None of their menu items call for it. Icing just wasn’t a member of the Taco Bell vocabulary. I was in no mood, however.
“Icing! You know, like you put on a cake. Cake icing. In the food. There is cake icing in the food. Instead of sour cream, you have cake icing in your sour cream tubes!”
The manager, still looking puzzled, glanced over at the prep girl. She herself looked baffled, but she dutifully pulled out the sour cream caulking gun and squirted a little on her finger, which she then stuck in her mouth.

Her expression was priceless. Putting some cake icing on your finger and sticking it in your mouth would ordinarily produce a pleasant look, as of one who’s savouring a tasty sweet. It is a look that says “Mmmm.” The prep girl, however, had fully been expecting sour cream. Clearly, her brain saw sour cream in the tube. It saw sour cream on her finger. It expected sour cream flavour to hit the tongue. When it was met with sweet frosting, her face screwed up into a wide-eyed look that said, louder than words ever could, “WTF???” Honestly. With all three question marks.

The manager finally understood, though his bewilderment did not seem to abate.

“Would you like replacements?” he asked.
Because I obviously liked them so much I wanted fresh ones.
“And get more of the same?!” I said incredulously. “No thank you. I just want a refund.”

And a refund the gave. I didn’t opt for an alternate dinner. Neither of us had much of any appetite anymore.

12

Yeah, but that costs extra.

13

BrattiAtti, that’s how I order my beef and cheddars too, except I tell them no sauce, extra cheese. Don’t you love the look they give you as they try and figure it out? :smiley:

Once, I went into the McDonald’s by my work and ordered a Big Mac, no lettuce, extra everything else. What did I get? A Big Mac with no lettuce, extra cheese, ketchup, mustard, and every other condiment in the store. Including tartar sauce. :rolleyes:

Same McDonald’s - you’d think I’d learn, wouldn’t you - I was smart enough to say Big Mac with no lettuce, extra big mac sauce, extra cheese, extra onion and extra pickle this time - I got a Big Mac with nothing but a ton of lettuce on it. It was at this point that I just threw it away and bought something from my work cafeteria - the McDonald’s didn’t care and I was tired. Very, very tired.

14

My best story is here.

15

[QUOTE=Mindfield
*Dessert For Dinner!
…

“These burritos and tacos have icing on them!” I say, rather upset.
“What?” he asked. I don’t know if he didn’t hear the word or didn’t understand the concept.
“Icing,” I repeated, enunciating as clearly as possible and indicating the foodstuffs. “these were made with icing.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. He just wasn’t getting it. Under the circumstances I could sort of understand it – where the hell would Taco Bell get icing? They have no use for it. None of their menu items call for it. Icing just wasn’t a member of the Taco Bell vocabulary. I was in no mood, however.
“Icing! You know, like you put on a cake. Cake icing. In the food. There is cake icing in the food. Instead of sour cream, you have cake icing in your sour cream tubes!”
The manager, still looking puzzled, glanced over at the prep girl. She herself looked baffled, but she dutifully pulled out the sour cream caulking gun and squirted a little on her finger, which she then stuck in her mouth.

Her expression was priceless. Putting some cake icing on your finger and sticking it in your mouth would ordinarily produce a pleasant look, as of one who’s savouring a tasty sweet. It is a look that says “Mmmm.” The prep girl, however, had fully been expecting sour cream. Clearly, her brain saw sour cream in the tube. It saw sour cream on her finger. It expected sour cream flavour to hit the tongue. When it was met with sweet frosting, her face screwed up into a wide-eyed look that said, louder than words ever could, “WTF???” Honestly. With all three question marks.

[/QUOTE]

Effin brilliant story. How did they get the icing in there anyway???

16

I never quite worked that out. It was a combo Taco Bell/KFC booth, but neither have any use for icing whatsoever. The only chain under the Yum! Brands company that would have any use for icing is Pizz Hut, so I dunno … maybe they got a shipment of icing intended for Pizza Hut instead. Which means that somewhere, piles of cinnastix were being sent out with real sour cream frosting.

The really puzzling bit though was that the large tube of frosting was well past half-empty, yet I appear to have been the only one who noticed and/or bothered to complain.

It was very telling. And not in a good way.

17

Taken out to a business lunch in a fancy Florida hotel restaurant. The waitress is notable for her chest measurements and vacuous eyes. We all turn down beer because this is a business lunch and we must be back to cleverness and coherence at one. Person in charge of lunch, whose sense of humor tends to the martini level of dryness, requests water.
Busty waitress: “Would you like bottled water?”
Dry One: “No, I’ll take draft, thanks.”

She didn’t get it.

We spent most of the rest of our lunch laughing at how she didn’t get it…

Gabriela, home with the sniffles and a scratchy throat

18

Or some KFC bundt cakes.

19

I don’t think they have them in Canada. At least, I’ve never seen them.

20

Recently I ordered two double cheeseburgers at McDonald’s. One with extra pickle, one regular. One indeed did have extra pickle. The other–no pickle whatsoever.

My mother used to order cheeseburgers at McDonald’s with EXTRA PICKLE ONLY!!! With all the exclamation points. Because she’d get every permutation of cheeseburger/pickle available … no pickle, extra everything else … plain with no pickle … cheese with no pickle … regular amount of pickle. Rarely did she actually get one with only the pickle. She ever tried ordering a plain cheeseburger, with pickle. Invariable there would be no cheese. Sometimes no pickle.

McDonalds is prickly about pickle, apparently. Say that three times fast.