Going out to dinner is a crapshoot at best.
If you have a favorite restaurant, you tend to stick with it.
Otherwise, you risk a nasty case of Ptomaine poisoning.
Which, if you have never had it, trust me, you are missing out.
I have never wanted to die in my lifetime, other than a two day bout of Ptomaine in my mid twenties.
Not that you should never try a new eatery past the age of 30.
You just seem to make better, more informed, food choices when you are out of your twenties.
But during your twenties? All bets are off.
In your twenties, you will eat and drink anything, without exception.
The big dating move in my twenties was Sizzler.
But, what you eat and drank depended on who you were with.
A date would be a steak, or chicken cordon bleu.
And perhaps drinks at a club later.
Jack and coke being popular.
Sizzler with your friends was an all you can eat ribs or shrimp.
And Sizzler shrimp is of a quality that was always dubious at best.
Like the head cheese of seafood.
And had the same chance of coming back on you as head cheese.
Beyond your twenties, you are almost more willing to try a new place.
But the cost had gone up as your tastes improved.
Quality wines begin to make their way onto the table as well.
Twenties? Spanish beer is the dinner beverage of choice.
Spanish beer can help wash down even the most rancid of food.
Were as a fine wine can help accent a meal.
I guess its a question of perspective.
I have a friend that once took me to a dive, hole in the wall, falling down building, resteraunt.
In a nasty ghetto section of Portland.
They served cheap beer, and you sat on long picnic benches.
But served some of the finest Cajun food I have ever had the privilege of eating in my adult life.
But I was pretty iffy until I tasted it.
That first spoonful had severe memories of Ptomaine dancing in my head.
But, don’t judge a book by its cover and all that.
The tip off should have been when the chef came out to make the rounds of the room.
Shitty restaurants have cooks, not chefs and they do not tour the dining room as a general rule.
They are illegal and afraid of being snatched by Immigration.
That sounds racist, but it is still pretty probable.
I often wonder where do Immigration guys eat lunch.
They go to a restaurant, sit down and order.
And half the staff is now missing.
I thought about not including that last line.
Screw it, it made me laugh, so it stays.
I don’t think I am shocking anyone with a little borderline talk.
Unless you are new to the blog.
In that case, welcome!
Sit down, shut up, take notes.
It should be mostly entertaining, except for one or two items.
But, if they piss you off, avoid emailing me, just comment below the blog.
I am a rude little bully when it comes to private emails.
I tend to call names and be insulting.
The phrase bite me shows up a lot.
Its good reading for everyone but you.
And God forbit you piss off the cheerleaders.
They can be vicious.
Beachmom will hold you by the arms while TrannyHooker beats you with both fists in print.
And LaVicki waterboards you.
All of this is in print, suposedly.
But they are capable of anything, really.
I try not to piss them off.
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