Monday, March 14, 2005

Dinner Time

I spent a better part of this afternoon running around the north shore getting things that Jessica needs for play performance. Thursday night is opening night... and the only thing left on the shopping list was hair gel and a pair of black sneakers.

Now, without spending 120 clams on the top of the line men's Nike sneakers, you'd be hard pressed to find a pair of plain black sneakers. Like Black Keds, or something.

It's springtime.

No one is pushing black. It's all pastels, flowers, crap like that. Stuff she wouldn't wear in the first place anyway. And I'm hunting for black.

I ended up getting her a pair of black Chucks, and if they have too much white on them, we'll duct tape them (ie: the rubber tip of the shoe) to hide the whiteness. I even bought black laces, just in case.

I bet the other girls were smart enough to go buy chinese slippers, or ballet shoes. My daughter is a space banshee with black Chuck Taylors.

And I like it like that.

When I arrived home, approximately 6:30pm, my husband was at a loss as to what to make for dinner. He realized we had gift certificates to TGI Fridays. His company had their holiday party at a TGI Fridays last December and the service was so excruciatingly horrible, that they all complained and were given gift certificates by the manager as hush money.

Doug swore up and down he'd never return to TGI Fridays. And then it was THAT particular TGI Fridays. And tonight -- faced with the insurrmountable task of figuring out what to do for dinner, he suggested TGI Fridays.

Funny how a body can come to that point when hard pressed.

We figured it was a lot better than left over pork chops or suspect ground beef.

It is really sad when your dinner out choice is based on whether or not you'd rather risk food poisoning.

Actually, our experience tonight at TGI Fridays wasn't bad at all. Our waiter looked like a strange cross between Brad Sherwood and Kevin Hearn. He was exceedingly friendly and kind to the kids, which is always a thumbs up in my book.

Monday nights at TGI Fridays are Kids' Night, but we didn't see many kids there. They had a magician who was supposed to come to the kids' tables and entertain, but I noticed he really enjoyed entertaining at tables with no children.

That bastard.

We ate our fill, enjoyed dinner, pondered whether or not that was Velveeta in the mix of cheeses or if it was some other cheese we hadn't yet come across in life. And we went to Borders to shop for books.

Geoff made out well with the books, none of the rest of us found anything that really tickled our fancy. I did get a book on Simpsons pop culture blah blah blah ness, which I'll read two pages of tonight and collapse into a deep, fitful, beer-fueled sleep.

It was wondered via email by a friend how work was today, after last Friday's fireworks. Suffice to say nothing was said. No apologies offered, water under bridge.

The way these work kind of things usually go.

And on that note -- I'm off to bed, for work tomorrow will be busy and hectic and hopefully filled with good news of incoming huge contracts and tons of money and blessings from the fountain. And stuff.

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