I don't spend too much time reading menus because if I'm eating alone it's at a place where the menu is up on the wall and If I"m with someone else I'm too busy with conversation so I make my selections rather hastily, but this by no means should suggest that I'm a complete fucking RETARD.
"One T-bone Steak for the lady, and one Stewed Tomato Salad for you sir."
"Stewed Tomato Salad? I didn't order this."
"Yes you did sir."
"No I did not. I don't even like stewed tomatoes, and what makes this a salad? It looks like you just opened a can of stewed tomatoes and dumped it in a bowl."
"And why can't that be considered a salad?" The waitress asked as she lifted her foot and placed it on my seat, digging the point of her shoe into my thigh.
"Salads have more than one ingredient and don't usually come from a can. Besides, I'm not arguing this with you, I didn't even order this anyway."
"Why? What are you afraid of? Afraid I might WIN?"
"Win? Win what? An argument about whether or not a can of stewed tomatoes dumped in a bowl constitutes a salad? It's not a fucking salad."
"Well let's just ask your date, Ma'am, do you think this is a salad?"
"Well I suppose you could call anything a salad if you wanted too but..."
"Well there you go -- I WIN" She said as she scrunched herself into my side of the booth scooting me to the side, unzipping my pants and proceeding to give me a handjob while my date ate her steak.
"Fine, you win."
Later I got into an argument with a cop who walked into a party I was attending and found 5 flakes of pot on the ground after a lengthy hands and knees search. I told him that they probably came in from someone's shoes walking around on Haight street which is basically covered in pot and besides he didn't have a search warrant and the evidence would be inadmissable anyway. Everyone agreed with me including him. I won that argument no handjob required and we all went back to cooking billions of shrimp, crabs and lobsters because they are BUGS.
They are.
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