Why the fuck would a corruption of a Spanish corruption of a Nahuatl word take a Latin plural?
Tell that to Webster’s.
The plural of avocado is guacamole. Or “alligator pears.”
So why are you claiming that now when less than three weeks ago, you knew the correct plural form? (See below.)
That was in a thread you started. And you replied too, so you can’t claim you didn’t read the replies.
Well, no, the singular of Jesus Christ is:
- Jesus Christo
- The plural form is Jesus Christae
You can taste the can it came in when it is generic brand.
How can you have a plural for an absolutely unique entity?
It’s like trying to pluralize “United States of Americas”…
Wait, isn’t “Christ” just a descriptor? So the plural should be “Jesuses Christ.”
Lots of possibilities: For one thing, I’ve met plenty of people claiming to be the messiah, who’s to know if any or all of them are telling the truth? For another thing, there may very well be an infinite number of alternate universes, each with their own Jesus Christ.
In that case, I prefer Jesudo Christ for the singular and Jesudae Christ for the plural.
This is not about the restaurant, rather about one of our party dining there.
Forty-odd years ago, some family members (mother, sister, grandmother and aunt) and I did a road trip around Tasmania. Staying in the capital city, Hobart, for a few nights, we decided to splurge out and have dinner in a VERY posh restaurant.
Now my family has been bog working-class for generations, although my mother had tried to break the pattern to some extent by broadening her cultural and educational horizons. My aunt on the other hand, held true to her roots in every way possible.
So we’re seated in the classy restaurant, and our orders are taken. I can’t remember what others ordered, but my aunt requested lobster mornay, one of the most expensive dishes available.
In due course, the meals are delivered to the table, my aunt takes one look at hers and loudly proclaims, “WHAT’S THIS?? I DON’T LIKE CHEESE!!!”
Last winter was a cold and snowy one in New England, and roofs (rooves?) Leaked is unusual places. I was having dinner at a Longhorn when a fiber ceiling tile finally became so saturated with water that it succumbed to the effects of gravity. These tiles are maybe a pound dry, but easily ten wet. I screamed like a little bitch at the unexpected blow to the head. The am manager offered more than suitable recompense.
Like Dire Straits put it, “Two men say they’re Jesus. One of them must be wrong.”
It’s “avocadae,” I believe.
When you have to tell the waiter that there is a roof in your soup, it’s avocat time.
Nothing like biting down on some glass while eating baked half shell oysters covered with cheesy succulence.
I wasn’t gonna drive back, but you know, someone could have dropped a pyrex baking pan and…well, that glass could have been anywhere by now…:eek:
So, I picked out a few bits of glass from an oyster to show the manager…
Apparently, they tossed in the rock salt garnish, before putting it in the oven, and it got baked in with all the soft squishy stuff…:smack:
Ha ha ha ha…:dubious: what a maroon…:mad:
When they made it again properly, this time the rock salt was obvious, and not “In” the Cheesy Oysters…Just around them. :rolleyes:
I think some peoplae here have been whooshed.
It’s more geared towards restaurant workers, but Behind Closed Ovens is an amazing place for restaurant stories.
The minimum wage in the '80s was between $3.10 and $3.35, not $1.50, as you “recalled”.
Dammit, D’Anconia! Knock it the fuck off, will you? We don’t give a shit.