Mr. Moon and I had lunch on Saturday as I was on the west side of the lake, and he was there working overtime. We’d recently chatted about my beef stroganoff cravings and how you just don’t see beef stroganoff in restaurants. Not being something he ever wanted, he had not realized.
Mr. Moon: Hey… do you guys have beef stroganoff?
Waiter: uhh… beef stroganoff? no, man, we don’t have that.
Jodi: It’s really not that common.
Mr. Moon: I would have thought it would be everywhere.
Jodi: Because it’s comfort food?
Waiter: Yeah… beef stroganoff is like something a mom makes. And Mac back there?*points to the kitchen* He ain’t no mom!
Our waiter was a witty, but slow, young man with an enterprising spirit. Despite the fact that it took forever to get the check, I gave him a pretty good tip because, like he told us, “Dude… this is my job, you know? And I need it. I need it to make money for drugs…. I mean SCHOOL! He-he-he-he.”
Yeah, but I bet he was a mother-f*$%er 🙂
We should all tip big for witty sarcasm.
breakfast club! yes!
Tip For Wit. Slogan of the week.
My Dad always called “Beef Stroke-me-off,” but I never understood what the joke meant.
I understood what it meant when Daddy was “guarding the easter baskets”: Daddy was drunk.