Napkin Drama Quest

I ate at Bogey’s Eatery & Spirits today.  Nice joint, putting emphasis on East Coast dining without the ridiculous pretentiousness Colorado Springs offers, such as parsley garnish near a meatball sub.  Puh-leease!  The only garnish on a meatball sub should be the cheap no-name tinfoil holding the mess together.  Bogey’s fails at this halfway, and instead of a tinfoil garnish supplies a ceramic plate.  I’d be just as happy with a grease-and-sauce-soaked paper one that can’t hold up to its pinings, but whatever.

  Being in a low-carb diet session, I went for the Italian salad, which to my delight were the same ingredients of their very decent Italian sub with capicola and salami with premium provolone and other goodies.  My issue resides with the concern that in normal dining environs, you get a rolled knife and fork in a napkin, often fastened together by a paper ring, but no other napkin is offered.  I prefer heavy-heft flatware and Bogey’s delights to my satisfaction.  Upon dissecting the origami, I always give the flatware a place to rest: that rolled napkin seems logical and I’ve always done this; it’s proper.  Upon dining, however, eventually one must wipe one’s mug of a face and this is where the conundrum begins.  Now I have to evict the flatware from their homes like AIG and they’re forced to lie exposed on the wood (or worse still, laminated synthetica) of the table.  Food bits (if the items were used) are often dropped onto the table, making a mess.  I take pride in not being a filth pig-boy and leaving my table neat and tidy during and especially after my meal.  Parents will know that with kids this is nigh impossible as I’ve seen kids who’s heads should have been bashed-in at birth throwing everything every which way.

  Don’t take your brat-ling to a dining place except McDonald’s or Chucky Cheese if you have a vicious, mentally-ill child: it makes us uncomfortable, gives your wait-staff a nightmare cleanup afterwards and makes you look like you don’t have time to bring up your mistake-of-a-kid.  Try a condom next time.  If you need some, I’ll mail them to you Express Mail, or, if you can’t wait, turn the microwave up to 11 and stand in front of it, timer set to 99:99 and press-in the door latch button with a fork until something itches on the inside.  Train your kid!  Same goes for dog owners where the dog is insane and eats people and attacks cars and craps everywhere.  Stop.  You’re not responsible enough to have kids or dogs.

  Your kids are not cute.  No one thinks so.  Fix it.  NOW.  You’re too stupid to have guns too so send those in and lock yourself in a closet and pee yourself and dream of falling into the Arctic Ocean where King Crabs will eat your remains on the cold, cold, dark, hopeless bottom of dismal despair and crushing atmospheres of sadness.

  So I usually have to ask for another napkin at the annoyance of the busy waitstaff.  I don’t like to bother them, ever.  I was a waiter once and let me tell you it’s no picnic.  I know for sure my extra BBQ sauce is NOT the most important thing in the universe for them to fetch, and I rarely ask for it after-the-fact, nor do I fuss about ingredients accidentally added or forgotten.  I just open my horizons and try it differently.  Why not?   Yes, I’m a polite diner, quiet (yeah, I’m not the cackling drunk donkey-faced witch who drank too many Zombies with extra rum while cracking the nerves with her satanic laughter of those around her).  Normally I keep my boozing to a minimum at a dining experience.  I might have a whiskey (or a Canadian whisky) or a beer or a scotch (if they got something worthy for my liver to metabolize, which is rare).  One example of a whiskey failing was at an Irish pub who admitted they don’t have “high-end” stuff like Single Barrel Jack or Macallan anything which to me is a basic low-level requirement of any bar.  Their excuse is, “We’re more of a sports bar..” which I guess means, “We serve shit to dumb people at a 900% mark-up while they watch 32” HD TVs connected to a COAX cable into a low-def mid-90’s Dish Network 300-series box with the sound off, and oh-yeah, I can’t figure out how to put the closed-captioning on, so we serve Bud Light and also Bud.”).  Idiots.  That’s the last thing America needs anymore is another “Sports” bar (aka, cheap crap bar where losers go except for Pay Per View events).

  So I don’t like having to use my flatware’s home, and I don’t care for using my sleeve, pant-leg, or my neighbor diner’s panties if I can help it, or the restaurant’s curtains, or the owner’s fuzzy beard, though sometimes, with poor service.. I must.  Or should I bring my own?  Next time, I’ll bring my 1000 thread-count Egyptian Sateen bedsheet.. and some panties (just in case).

--Blog creating using my Magnavox Odyssey2 and 300 baud modem: