Din with the Fam
Thursday, June 28, 2007
"Would you like to use some reading glasses?"The manager of the restaurant was holding a silver tray, arranged with an assortment of reading glasses for my mother to inspect. My mother, who was having trouble reading the menu, was practically spilling the table candle onto her entree choices in an attempt to get more light onto the words. I couldn't decide which was more ludicrous: my mother, or the fact that this restaurant offers a platter of reading glasses to forgetful, aging patrons.
The restaurant, of course, was chosen by my wealthy, food-loving brother, who suggested we take our parents out for dinner now that they have returned from sabbatical in China. Upon sitting at the table, I immediately noticed that the menu was missing something. Some fancy restaurants have started listing prices as two digit numbers, like Truffle Capellini 28. But this place had taken it to the next level: there were no prices at all. I began to snicker a little bit, finding the complete elimination of prices to be rather humorous, and also to provide comic relief, realizing that I was about to spend an unknown amount of money on a piece of food which I could not identify.
Example menu choices:
John Dory
Smoked Rissolées, Sunchoke "Risotto", Paprika Glaze, Mizuna Salad
Chamomille Scented Hawaiian Walu
Fava Carpaccio, Frisée & Foie Gras, Salsify Ribbons, Licorice
I have never seen a menu which was more cryptic than this; I honestly couldn't differentiate a single entree from the next. Given the choice between unidentifiable food with unidentifiable price, or say, a fish taco for $1.99, I would certainly have chosen the taco. So I started laughing. My mother, unfortunately, did not see the humor in the situation.
"Laura, if everyone had an attitude like you..." She trailed off with a little snort, and an eye-roll. I immediately remembered why I do not choose to dine with my family on a regular basis.
In another classic moment during the meal, my mom asked my brother about his girlfriend's educational background. I remember when I was in college, she used to ask me what my boyfriends' SAT scores were, which would irritate me to no end. Now that I am older, she has transformed this question to one about colleges. At this particular exchange, my brother informed her that his girlfriend went to San Jose State, which was clearly not up to par with her standards. She rolled her eyes, took a deep breath, then proceeded to tell us about our cousins.
"Michelle went to Aspen again for vacation. She is doing very well. Her husband makes a lot of money." She made a face to let us know that we were failing her in our money-making endeavors. For emphasis, she repeated "A lot of money."
This, from a woman who charged me $1 to kill spiders for me when I was little. Strangely, she didn't get upset at me for letting my friends live in her house during my parents' sabbatical. In fact, she was somewhat excited to hear how much I had charged them to live there. "How much did you make?" she inquired intrusively. It did not please her to learn that I don't ask friends for money. She herself charged my brother rent money when he lived at home for a few months. Needless to say, I have never lived at home. Not for a second.
But anyway, the fun part of dinner came towards the end of the meal. My dad is usually a quiet man, but after dessert was finished, he was motivated to say something. It was brief, but it caught my attention. "I got drunk," he said, with a sly smile on his face.
I had no idea what he was talking about, but it was certainly enough information for me to get curious. After a bit of cajoling from me and my brother (and some annoyed eye rolls from my mom) we learned the following wonderful facts:
- He has never been really drunk before.
- It happened after taking shots of 142 proof Chinese liquor.
- He passed out at the restaurant table.
- Two waiters carried him out of the restaurant so he could go home.
This makes my week. I guess it is never too late to party.
Brilliant
Friday, June 22, 2007
Over time, I have collected a handful of ideas that I am very proud of. Good examples that you may have heard of include the Suprise Wedding Play, and my pride and joy, Timeshare Children.But today, I ask for an assistant in executing my most recent brilliant idea: Kick-Ass Theme Music.
This theme music will
1) By my very own personalized theme song
2) Begin to play whenever I am really kicking ass at something.
For example, the giant fart I rang out last night might have called for some musical accompaniment. Or that time I was graduating, and I did the drunken carwheel on stage that caused me to my hurt myself substantially and lose my hat multiple times in front of thousands of people. Definite call for theme music.
So anyway, if any of you would like to be my Official Theme Music Player, please let me know. Also, if you can hit the 'comment' button and let me know how many times you fart per day, on average, that would be very helpful. I have been trying to conduct a survey around the office for use in future blog entries, but so far, none of these lame-o's have been very cooperative. You wouldn't want to be a lame-o would you? Of course not. You are a sexy tiger! And you want to post you gas-passing numbers on the internet like tigers always do.
Hello Readers
Friday, June 15, 2007
Alright everyone, I have just receive my first blog-spawned email. I assume this will make "Jeff" very happy. Hi Laura,So... the options...
I know you're a nuclear whiz gal and I've been doing some simple
research on the history of "Cold Fusion" and have been perplexed as
anybody as to whether Fleischmann-Pons experiments were valid and
coveed up, or simply errors to begin with. As one who works so
closely on these projects, and because I think I can trust you
completely, I'd love to know your brief take on things. Basically,
I'm asking does Cold Fusion exist or not??? Also, what kind of work
do you do on a daily basis as a nuclear researcher? Are you in a lab
replicating experiments? Are you studying new theories?
Thanks for listening and any reply!
Regards,
Jeff from New York
-- loser guy on the east coast hitting on chicks via blogger?
-- gambler hoping to make billions on fusion-powered rocket ships?
-- crazy man searching for perpetual energy?
-- honest guy wondering about fusion.
BTW, the farting experiment pooped out. (haha, I'm funny)
I got a UTI and had to take antibiotics for a week, and right now, the farting is as stinky as ever. Darned digestion-killing pills. More on this later... in the meantime, stay away from my butt.
