the only thing worse
than bad memories
is no memories at all..
[dismemberment plan]
6.09.2003
Sorry, Jordan.
During some kind of lapse in judgement, T-Bone and I decided to hit up the Monogolian Buffet place this past weekend.
I apologize to Jordan, since we originally invited him to come, but ended up not going with him. =(
Anyway.
An intelligent person would not go to buffets.
Especially not a Chinese / Mongolian / any kind of Asian buffet.
It is the lowest denomination of evil in the world.
The greater amount of food, the lower the level of quality.
The General Tso's chicken was a horrific slop, the dumplings were mushy, and everything seemed to be cold, hard, salty, or disgusting.
The sushi was warm.
Eating raw fish at room temperature is pretty nauseating.
The Mongolian Buffet's only redeeming factor was that they had a huge wok thing, and an open grill where you can order around a little wrinkly, unhappy old Chinese man.
We demanded ribs and beef ka-bobs from him, and he gave us a little nod and a tip of his paper cap and set off to work.
I felt very much like the director of some kind of immigrant meat-cooking sweat shop.
It was pretty cool.
We saw our friend Nathalie there with her mom.
They were much smarter than us, and ate comparatively little.
By the time T-Bone and I were on our 12th course, Nathalie and her mom were already having dessert and were getting ready to leave.
Even after they paid and left, we stayed for another hour, piling in the disgusting food.
The wonderful meal ended with a bang..
Or rather, with a series of splattering sounds.
A crackwhore mom and her two ADD-stricken children were making a racket at the table next to ours.
She kept scolding one of them, saying,
"Ever since I picked you up, you've been sliding on the bathroom floor (Note: Ewww.), sticking your face in the fish pond (Another note: Ewwww.), screaming, and punching your brother. I can't deal with this anymore! I've had enough of you!"
The poor kid was just sitting there looking blankly away from his plate for a while.
The stupid mom gave up and was getting ready to leave when the little boy started to hurl.
It was without much warning, since the kid didn't making any "URRRGGHHHLLLL" throwing-up noises, but when I heard the splattering of liquid hitting the green carpet for a span extending longer than 15 seconds (with two sets of splattering sounds, divided by a small lapse of silence, in which I'm inferring he was catching his breath), I knew it had to be the wonderful familiar symphony of vomiting.
I was really too afraid to get a good look, but T-Bone said,
"It's orange and chunky."
[Peek-a-Foo]