Strange things afoot at the Olive Garden

Friday night Chris picked me up from work and we took me to Olive Garden for dinner. The food (as always) was really good. Have I ever truly professed my love for Olive Garden? Seriously good shit. Good food, no doubt, everything else...not so much.

There were these two ladies having dinner together, having the loudest conversation I've ever heard. One of them was practically yelling. Not in an angry way, in an annoying I think my conversation is more important than anyone else's kinda way. It was so bad, we couldn't even hear the waitress when she came to take our order. And I almost had to go over to her table during dinner and slap her in the head when she starting laughing. It was the most annoying laugh I'd ever heard. You know those people that are all, AHAHAHAHAHA like really loud, but it doesn't sound like laughing, it kinda sounds like a truck idling? Yeah, she was doing that. I gave her my best "shut the hell up" look, but she was totally oblivious. Not surprising.

Then, the waitress decided to grate cheese all down my shirt and on my boobs. She came over with the plates, and instead of grating the cheese while the plates were still on the tray, she put the plates down in front of us and was all, would you like some grated cheese? Syeah, I would. So she starts grating it, and moving the grater all around the plate and it's flying everywhere, going down my shirt, falling in my lap. She too, like the loud lady, was totally oblivious, even though I was like, ahh, cheese in my lap. She's like, heh. All dismissive like I was kidding. I wasn't kidding, I was picking cheese out of my bra all night.

So between the cheese down my shirt and the oblivious loud lady, dinner was definitely not as good as it could've of been. I was thankful though that they weren't stingy with the breadsticks. I hate that. There are some waitresses that like only give you two breadsticks at a time, one for each of you. The second she puts the basket on the table, we're like, yeah, we're going to need some more breadsticks and then she comes back with three. Ok, 1. we're fat. Clearly we don't have a problem wasting food, you can bring out more three, we're totally going to eat them. 2., why three? Do you want us to fight for the third? You see there are two of us sitting here, right? Chris and I refer to these Olive Garden waitresses as the Breadstick Nazis. Once we had this really, really nice German waitress, she was like full on, accent and everything all, you want seafood alfredo, yah? She was really good with the breadsitcks, brought them out in even numbers and brought like six at a time. I almost said to her, we usually get a total breadsitck Nazi, I'm glad that's not you! Then thought better of it. The German waitress would probably not appreciate my Nazi humor.