Sunday, May 4, 2008

Mama Hawthorne Disses Rosie's Wardrobe.

This was the T-shirt I was wearing yesterday. When Mr. Hawthorne came to pick me up, Mama Hawthorne told him to please buy me some new shirts without any writing on the back. Sometimes I get the feeling she just doesn't approve of my attire. We hit the road Sunday morning and decided to stop at a MacDonald's in Yanceyville for breakfast. I ordered orange juice. They were out of orange juice. I ordered tea, but they had no lemons and I must have lemons with my tea. Then I ordered what I thought was egg and bacon on toast. It was horrid. It wasn't toast. It was more of a sweet pancake with grill marks on it. And that egg has never been anywhere near a chicken's ass, I'm sure. It was square and disgusting and chemical. I couldn't eat any of it. So I drank coffee and tea and for the next 2 1/2 hours, I was hungry and my bladder was uncomfortably full. We decided to stop in Rocky Mount for lunch. I wanted Chinese and there was the Hunan Restaurant in sight, which is where I really wanted to go, but Mr. Hawthorne didn't want Chinese since he'd just had it two days ago. He suggested Mexican, and I said fine. However, where we went to was NOT Mexican in any way, shape, or form even though there was a huge red chili pepper on the front of the building. I despise "chain" restaurants, and though I'd never heard of this restaurant (I live a very sheltered life.) it absolutely screamed "CHAIN." When we got to the entrance we were assaulted by blaring "music." At that point, I said, "Hell, no, I ain't eatin' at this stinkin' place." and turned around to leave. Mr. Hawthorne said he was tired of driving around and we were eating here. Period. So we went on in where I proceeded to sulk and pout and not find anything on the colorful, shiny menu with all the photographs which really didn't look anything like the actual food being served. Throughout the entire time, the music blared from speakers directly in front of me. I was not having fun. And if I'm not having fun, I can assure you Mr. Hawthorne ain't having the best of times either. After perusing the menu 4-5 times and sending the waitress away 3 times while I was still undecided, I finally settled on a salad and the Southwestern Eggrolls. The salad was nothing but iceberg lettuce, with pale tasteless tomatoes and carrot strips on it with stale croutons. My bleu cheese dressing had nary a chunk of cheese in it. I would give it a "blah" rating. In the restaurant's defense, I will say the service was good. No doubt the wait staff was hurrying from table back to kitchen to get away from the blaring music. Now, one way I judge a restaurant is my self- imposed Lemon Test. As I said before, I like lemons with my tea. Or as Mr. Hawthorne says, I like a little tea with my lemon. So, whenever we go out to a restaurant, I always ask for extra lemons. Now, 3 things might occur when I ask for extra lemons:
1) I get tea, with no lemons at all. (Worst case scenario.) 2) I get tea, with one flimsy, anemic, sad little lemon slice which issues no juice when you squeeze it. (Usual scenario.) And, 3) I get tea, with two pitiful slices of lemon. (Less usual scenario.)
So, after 30-plus years of dining out, and having to ask the wait persons numerous times to bring me extra lemon, I finally figured out how to get my extra lemon. I know, I'm slow. Wait person: "What can I get you to drink?" Me: "I'd like unsweetened ice tea with 5 PIECES OF LEMON, please." The wait person invariably looks up from their pad, with inquiring eyes, and repeats, "5 pieces of lemon?" "Yes," I say. "5 pieces of lemon." And you know what? I get FIVE PIECES OF LEMON. Works like a charm. Now, enough about the lemon. Let's get back to the "cuisine." I was served the Southwest Eggrolls, and I immediately felt my stomach do a little flip flop. I actually took one bite, just for the hell of it, then returned the eggroll to my plate and remained hungry. Mr. Hawthorne actually asked for a container to take the eggrolls home with. I don't know why, but I went along with it since I'm looking ahead for blog fodder (blodder? flogger?)
So here's my Southwestern Eggroll. It was vomitous in a craptastic sort of way. Do compare it with the photograph on their web site. Now, I'm ready to get back on the road and away from anything resembling a restaurant. What gets me, is that this place was freakin' packed. Is this the palate of America, I ask you? If so, this is sad. Very sad.
So, we get back into the car and head east. 4 1/2 hours driving and now I'm getting bored. Mr. Hawthorne and I have run out of things to talk about so we're rehashing the same stories but putting a new spin on them.
With time on my hands, I turn to photographing bug splats on the windshield.
What did one bug say to the other bug upon seeing his buddy hit the windshield?
"I bet he doesn't have the guts to do that again!"
Hahahahaha. Sometimes I just crack myself up.
This is fascinating photography and I'm sure you all are grateful for my posting it. You're entirely welcome.

3 comments:

lee said...

....well, hell, Rosie, Big Mama Rosie didn't like your pierced ears 36 years ago, so why do you think she'd like your T-shirts now?

Rosie Hawthorne said...

Ah, Marion. That was a rather "unfortunate" dinner, wasn't it.

Lane said...

ahahahahahahahahaahhaahahahahahhahahahahahaahahahaaaaaaaa