Well hello there. Melisa with one S here. I'm guest-posting for Weaselmomma, who might be in Hollywood selling her autobiographical screenplay to Quentin Tarantino in the hopes that he can get the ball rolling on her major motion picture, tentatively named "There's a Mouse In the House: Trouble in Weaselville", starring Meryl Streep as Weaselmomma. Or she may NOT be doing that. Regardless, you're stuck with me today.
I have a little story to share with you about a recent evening out that Weaselmomma and I enjoyed. Specifically, it was last Saturday night. We had a blogger event to attend in the city at 7:00 p.m., and had to leave our suburban homes really, really early because it's construction season in Chicago, and the main highway from our houses to the Loop is a complete mess. (The drive normally takes about 35 minutes from my house, but all bets are off these days.) Weaselmomma picked me up at 4:30, and we were on our way, figuring that if we arrived in the city early enough, we'd grab a bite to eat.
On the ride there, Weaselmomma talked my ear off, which is nothing new. (Seriously.) She told me how Mr. Weasel dressed her for the evening (okay, well, I don't mean LITERALLY. I mean he picked out her outfit.), and she felt like a Barbie doll. She didn't have a springtime jacket that was appropriate for a dressier evening, and because she despises shopping, Mr. Weasel went out to buy one for her. In the process, he bought her an adorable ruffled-blouse, a little light sweater to put on over that, fishnet socks (yes, really!), and even shoes. She put on all of that with her favorite pair of black pants, and looked really great. I think Mr. Weasel must have been a stylist in his other life. (I think she said he even helped her with the hair. Hmm.) Anyway, he did a great job styling her, yet she felt a wee bit uncomfortable because she was showing a tiny bit more cleavage than she would if she were hanging out in the burbs. I reassured her that she wasn't flashing anyone, and she's just used to her t-shirts and twin-sets, and to just relax.
We made excellent time, as it turned out, arriving at our destination by about 5:20. We parked across the street from the event and looked for a restaurant. There were several choices, but I suggested Ed Debevics, where the motto is "Eat and Get Out!" and the staff is really, really rude: on purpose. (I wrote about an experience my family had at Ed's when we went for my older son's birthday two years ago, on Suburban Scrawl. Click here. Then come back!)
Weaselmomma was not really crazy about the idea of going to Ed's because she believes that if she wants to be treated rudely, she can just stay home. (Ba dum bum!) But I talked her into it, and away we went. To be honest, though I love the rudeness of Ed's, I'm always a little scared when I go there because you never know what to expect.
We were seated, and our waiter showed up. I can't remember his name, but he was hilarious. He asked if we wanted to hear the specials and I told him we were probably going to stick with appetizers, and then we got yelled at. He asked if we wanted a drink, and of course Weaselmomma said yes; I was a little indecisive, which he berated me for. He asked how I was going to get drunk if I didn't have a drink, and although that wasn't my goal (hers either), I didn't spend my time telling him that, because, you know, he would have taken that and hit the ground running. I ended up ordering my favorite, a Jack and Coke, (Yummy.) and bantered with our server a little bit. He was a fun guy, especially when I turned on the charm and it became clear that I was his favorite.
We decided that we were indeed hungry enough to order "real food", and told our server. In response, he yelled, "GOOD!" He became especially snarky with Weaselmomma when she ordered American cheese for her burger, not realizing (because she never wears her glasses in public) that they didn't offer that as an option. (I, of course, ordered correctly.) He looked at me and said, "Yeah. Thanks for bringing THAT ONE here," tossing his head in her direction. I was really enjoying my place as the better of the two guests in his eyes.
Weaselmomma and I chatted about all kinds of unbloggable things, of course, and she was still a little anxious about her cleavage, adjusting her top as she spoke.
He brought us another drink, and by the time we finished, it was time to walk down the street to the event.
The server swung by the table, set the check down, and said something as he kept walking. I said to Weaselmomma, "WHAT did he say? It sounded like he said the drinks were on him!" She said, "Yep, I think that's what he said!"
I picked up the check, and indeed, we were only charged for our dinner. WOW*.
So you see, a great personality (mine) really can take you places and give you advantages in this world.
Or was it Weaselmomma's cleavage**?
You decide.
*I gave him an 80% gratuity. And yes, I know from working in a salon that sometimes people who get paid tips will sometimes not charge for certain things so you'll tip them better. But seriously. He really liked me. Or her. But I think he liked ME.
**No pictures. Sorry!
*Okay, WeaslMomma here. I wasn't going to step in today, but in my defense, the proof is in the pudding! Melisa has a stunning personality and nice cleavage to boot, but I am not lacking in the personality area and thanks to Mr. W's clothing choice is why we received free drinks, no doubt, but judge for yourself.
Photo credit to Kris, aka, Little Tech Girl
If you wonder what this has to do with Dad-Blogs Fatherhood Friday, it's just a little something to remind you of one more reason to cherish the fairer sex.
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