So, Toaster Boy is back of advanced infantry and as not officially a U.S. Marine! In honor of his return, we all went to the Texas Roadhouse and had dinner on Mom and Dad. It was sweet for the honey butter on the rolls . . . it was all the sweeter for us not having to pay.
It's weird; people think to don't ask a child how they want their steak cooked. Roni may not be able to pick a dinner at most restaurants, but she loves going there as they have a child size steak plate and she LOVES steak. Like most adults, though, she had a good head for her steaks and knows exactly how she likes it - just barely medium, preferable flame broiled with a little crunchy blackness on the very edges, but still vaguely pink and juicy on the inside. i have a eight-year-old steak connoisseur. She was upset and refused to eat the medium-well they brought her. The waitress hadn't asked how to cook it and i was not paying attention when she ordered.
Toaster Boy said she was trying to tell her, but the waitress had already moved on and didn't hear. Dad traded her for some of his 'Killer Ribs' and she was happy.
Me? i just eat the 'Chicken Critters' . . . .
Anyways, nothing much else going on other than the fact that i don't think my Secret Santa at work likes me much. i have a stocking and a tiny picture frame. Oh, well, maybe they just don't know me . . . all i know is that MY person to buy for is prolly pretty glad i got them as i have gleefully gone on a spree of self amusement at their expense and they are getting all sorts of wacky shit. It's been a blast!
Nighty-night, kiddies!
confessed on Wednesday, Dec. 18, 2002