Well, folks. We had the monthly "Girls night out" about two weeks ago. Honestly (or not), I've been too doggone traumatized to write about it till now. It was kinda sparse that night, as we were missing one of the dear sisters. Peg was out of the country, actually way out of the country in Tahiti. See, she always wanted to learn either to belly dance or do the hula and this opportunity just came up at the last minute so she went with a bunch of other "orthopedic shoe wearing" hula-ites. I think about 4 women and two men, although one of the men would really have to work at it much harder as he has a wooden leg and has a little trouble with balance. I hear he's also quite the womanizer and I told Peg to steer clear of him cause he's probably a heart breaker. We'll see if she listens to me. I don't know at this point. She can be quite the little hussy if she gets off away from family......
Anyhoo. We again decided on the Cracker Barrel as we found out the bouncer had quit. We hear she went back to wrestling full time. You know, in the new Geriatric Women's league of the WWE. I think she'll have a definite advantage over the other tough old broads. Now don't tell anyone this cause I heard it through the cashier and she could lose her job, AND this is illegal in WWE Geriatric League circles. Anyhoo, I hear she has a titanium hip. The way I hear it, it's kinda like a bionic hip. I'm keeping my lips sealed over it cause at 72, she's one of the younger participants and the older, wiser wrestlers usually have an advantage over the young-uns do to more experience in butt-whoopin's.
Well, back to the story. We marched in pleased as punch and holding our heads up real proud cause of our great southern Dutchman heritage. Our favorite hostess, the sweet little one with the dark uni-brow and ample facial hair bordering on a mustache, ( poor thing. I hear it's her Armenian heritage) seating us at our preferred table in the non-smoking section, of course. Our waitress was Leigh. She's been there for eons and was pretty good at her job. My schoolteacher-sisters had her many moons ago in class, and, God bless her, she's never held it against them. She even knows about Pip's fondness for "cough syrup" and turns a blind eye to it. "Service with a smile", that's what Leigh is. She's the only one that's ever volunteered to be our server. The only one not faking appendicitis or cowering in the kitchen under the canned tomatoes when we come in. The only thing is, I don't know HOW she does her job so well with working in the spiky heels she wears. Says they make her feel so feminine and makes her legs much shapelier. Trouble is, she has bilateral bunions as big as golfballs. Anyway, I digress.
Well, she took our orders and filled our glasses quite promptly. I did request that she only serve us two sweet teas apiece, then cut us off and serve only unsweetened or diet cola. She very graciously agreed. Each sister, in turn, started to fill the group in on what's been going on in our lives since the last GNO. We listened closely as Barb gave us the details of her latest colonoscopy. Pip was a little "out of it" as she'd had oral surgery that day. I don't think she realized it, but she kept leaking out the side of her mouth that had the tooth cut out. Honestly, I couldn't be sure if it was the anesthetic or the cough syrup making her drool. Maybe the combination...... Sis seemed a little irritable. OK, a LOT irritable.
I just chalked it up to irregularity and told her she should eat more fiber. She rudely shot back at me that it gives her gas and that just wouldn't do (her working with the public at the Family Express and all).
Hey, I was just giving my professional opinion.
We all talked bad about Peg. That's one of the rules of GNO--you don't show up and we can all dog you out. And we'll tell you we did.
Char was whining that she was hungry and that we didn't get our biscuits yet. Cry me a river, doggone it. My heart bleeds.
About that time, Leigh started bringing on the food. Pip always gets the lucious pinto beans. Today, though, she had to mash 'em up to be able to eat, as of course, she couldn't chew. I couldn't bring myself to tell her how they looked when she drooled them out. Sis got her usual meatloaf. Well, when Leigh set the entree down in front of her she had nothing short of a hissy fit! She got really rammy and got up in Leigh's face and said that it looked like the "dry, end nub" of the meatloaf, and she wasn't gonna have it. Leigh said she'd have the chef come out to talk to her about it. Leigh went to the kitchen and we heard a man's voice screamin' and a'beggin'. About that time, Sis got up and went into the kitchen herself. We heard shoutin' and a yellin'. Then a man's loud sobbing. I was so embarrassed. No man should sound that pitiful. Meanwhile, Leigh came out and refilled our glasses. And refilled our glasses. And refilled our glasses. I think she had forgotten the request about cuttin' off the sweet tea, or she was just being passive-aggressive. Anyway, we all were starting to feel mighty bold. Char, still ticked about the lack of biscuits, said that she was gonna go in and help Sis straighten out this mess. Well, shoot. There was NO WAY that fur was gonna fly and the rest of us not get to see it. Pip didn't make a move to get up. What with the sweet tea, anesthetic, and cough syrup, she had become one with her chair with her eyes half closed and a goofy, one sided grin on her face. Barb, still gloating in the satisfaction of a good colonoscopy report, decided to get in on it. 'Bout that time, the chef comes running out and attempts to make a getaway through the smoking section. You know. The door that says "Alarm will sound if door is opened". Well it was and it did. We were all in hot pursuit, but he was just too darn fast for us. Hopped into his '53 Buick "Woodie" station wagon ( quite the hot car. He just shouldn't have put spinners on it). He mashed the gas and was gone. Even though she couldn't catch him, Sis WAS able to spatter the passenger side wood panel with the end-nub meat loaf. That, at least, gave her a small sense of satisfaction. When we all returned to the table, Leigh was just comin' back outa the kitchen with a pitcher of tea. Unbeknownst to her, a newbie waitress had swept some spilled mac and cheese in a pile in the doorway of the kitchen and hadn't picked it up. Leigh and the pitcher went flying, spiky heels in the air. She came down on her boo-tay. She was really ticked that she had broken a heel. Last I heard, she was sueing Cracker Barrel for a new shoe wardrobe and hospital bills for "bilateral broken buttocks". I think we may start meeting at another joint next time. Just seems like the Cracker Barrel is just going downhill more and more........
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