You Can't Eat without a Fight | Mental Poo

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

You Can't Eat without a Fight

Moving on from Date Night Rule #1 (The Subway Sucks)...

I bring you:

You Can't Eat without a Fight CAN...

...but then WHERE'S THE FUN IN THAT?!?

Rule #2: Finding a Place to Eat in Boston on game night sucks hairy donkey balls

The wife and I arrive in Boston about ½ hour late (for those on the metric system, this is equivalent to weighing 15 kilograms).

(I like converting things to metric…because it’s fun to learn other languages)

So we head to the “North End” of Boston – which is the “Italian” section of Boston.

(To my North End friends I say, "Hola!")

Here, in the Italian section of Boston...

...the streets are lined with pasta and strewn with the carcasses of dead FBI informants.

I’m just kidding.

The streets are made of just regular pavement.

Restaurants in the North End are roughly the size of a standard work cubicle and seat approximately 12 people.

(17 people if you calculate using Celsius….man, I LOVE doing that).

We walked into our favorite North End restaurant (closest to the Boston Garden) and were told that there was a half-hour wait...

...unless we wanted the ONE table that would be cleared shortly.

The table that would have been available was roughly 1 inch away from the table next to it.

Wife: “I don’t want to be having dinner with another couple, do you?”

There are two answers to this question that I could have come up with:

Correct answer: “You’re right…we should wait. It’s OUR night, and I want to have a nice dinner with you.”

Incorrect answer:
“I don’t care what we do…but I’m not going to sit there if it’s going to make you all pissy.”

Guess which answer I gave?

My wife looked at me.

Turned around.

And walked out.

The ensuing argument, performed in the snow-slush-rain-shit-mix that was coming down, was done as we walked through the streets of Boston trying to find another restaurant…

narrowly avoiding a fistfight between us.

I’m happy about this…as my broken bones would have been tough to explain to the guys at work.


The next restaurant we walked into? 45-minute wait.

The next one? One hour.

My wife’s mad. I’m mad.

We’re still walking in this pseudo-winter WHAT THE F*CK IS THIS STUFF COMING DOWN SHIT?!?!?…and time is going by…

…and we have also now walked the equivalent of Paul Revere’s ride.

This is romantic. Just like I pictured it.

Actually…it’s more like the movie “Fight Club.”

Where’d we end up?

We ended up back at the SAME F*CKING RESTAURANT we started at.

..where we waited a half-hour...

...and sat 5 inches away from the next table.


That was worth it.

I need to keep my goddamn mouth shut.


Christina_the_wench said...

Wow, isn't this every married couple's night out? It isn't?!?!The hell you say!

LBluca77 said...

Come one Mooog don't you know the wife is always right? You should have learned that on the first day of marriage class.

lacochran's evil twin said...

So you both wound up pissy. Niiiice.

fiona said...

Wife: “I don’t want to be having dinner with another couple, do you?”
Slam dunk response for your edification:-
Baby when we're together the rest of the world disappears.
Nauseating but good!

Narm said...

C'mon you are smarter than that, Moooooog! Oh wait, I was looking at the metric system calculations of your intelligence - ok now I get it - no surprises.

Rahul said...

Yet again the man was right..

Men 1,765,786,752,296
women 2

Anonymous said...

I dunno, by her walking out was a bit of an over-reaction. I mean, your blog name is mental poo. She can't expect Martha Fucking Stewart out of your head ALL the time. How cool would it be to find a couple where the woman's name is Martha and the guy is Stewart. Anyway, if my wife sees this comment, I would choose correctly sweetums.

Mike said...

Sweet Jebus you're metric calculations are all WRONG.

It's not 15 it's 15.07.

And it's not 17, it's 17.56.

Without the decimal places, it's like having a thick oriental accent. And no one can understand one of those.

Going Like Sixty said...

I like your post.
I like your humor.

I will now leave a clever comment (by my standards.)

What? You actually believe it when the 19 year old chick says "one hour"?


Moooooog35 said...

Christina: I'm not sure, but I think we were the only ones storming through Boston that night swearing at each other while she walked 20 feet in front of me.

lbluca: WE HAD A CLASS?!?

Lee Iococca: That's how we roll.

Fiona: Nice try. We've been together damn over twenty years. I pull that line and she's more likely to throw something at me.

Narm: Do they make that in "for Dummies" format?

Poetry: She didn't do that. THIS TIME.

Meleah: "..and breakfast in bed." You forgot that last part.

rs27: I make up 2 million of those.

Hockeyman: I know - what is she thinking?!


Hi hon. You think wonderful things. I love you.

Mike: Just remember, "badong" means "yes."

60: I'm usually lying to 19 year olds about "one hour."

Joe: Massimino's is SO worth it. Even if you DO have to dodge canoli bullets.

Hungry Mother said...

I love the North End. Great eating and then you can get cannolis at Mike's.

Practically Joe said...

Mooooog! Dude! I grew up on Endicott street. That's right. I have gangsta blood in my veins.
Here's something else ...
If you stopped for a bite at the Beer Works right across from Fenway Park ... I may have been the manager on duty that day.

FreeOscar said...

This is why I believe in not dating my husband. I only date hot chicks.

HeyJoe said... YOU doin?

here today, gone tomorrow said...

Oh man...I'm just jealous you ate at Massimino's. I love the North End.

Now, what were you talking about?

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