Last night I had dinner with a beautiful friend of mine. The restaurant was wonderful, the food fabulous, and to say that her company was, as always, stimulating and witty is an understatement. The service was beyond excellent. So what’s my beef, I had the salmon just so you know, that I have to bitch about? Yes I have something to bitch about? The six dried up old prune faces sitting next to us.
These abominations to human society were crass, ostentatious, noisy, and uncouth. They were dress in flashy overpriced two piece woven suites and each one looked like a cookie cutter image of the other.
All this put together wouldn’t have been enough to have garnered much attention from my friend and me except a topic they got off on and stayed with it for a while. White trash. Yes you read that right, white trash and I’m not talking something you put into a compactor although from the way these characters were discussing it you got the impression that was exactly what they would love to have done. As they continued to loudly discuss this topic they only seemed to get louder while cackling throughout. Were they talking about my friend and me? Possibly, we were definitely dressed differently than they were but the impression I got was that it was basically in general. I wasn’t sitting there trying to overhear them because quite truthfully my friend was far more interesting and we don’t get a chance to sit down with one another as often as I would like and sincerely hope she feels the same way so I did my best to ignore them.
My friend and I were discussing our families, mostly nice stuff, our pursuits which again mostly pleasant things, and generally the things that interested us. Having those screeching harpies sitting so close was a distraction. Sad really, that for all their uppity personally appointed self-worth they should now be the ones being discussed in such a derogatory manner.
At this point I will have to apologize to my grandmother who did teach me that if you didn’t have something nice to say about someone then keep your mouth shut. Oh well Granny, I’ve tried to do that but sometimes my mouth, or in this case my fingers, get the upper hand and I just can’t help myself. To me there is a bit of justice in this.
I seriously doubt that any of these individuals will ever read this but in case one of them in particular does just so you’re reminded of the evening I was the one who stood up first and gave you, you old crone sitting at the end of your table close to my friend, was the one who gave you the look that I reserve for very special people and anyone who knows me know that look. I think you would remember that. The look on your face certainly registered the fact that you did notice as I looked you directly in the eyes.
I hope the six of you develop a heart and if not that you ask for a private room the next time you dine out.