JERK OF THE WEEK: The Seven Deadly Jerks at Bravo!
My sister's birthday is on Oct. 2. The night before, my mom called me to discuss preliminary dinner plans.
"We want to go out at 8," she said, "We're not sure where yet because Jackie's not sure what she's in the mood for."
Uh oh. I could already sense trouble. She didn't know where she wanted to go to dinner, which meant she was probably considering some sort of new restaurant. I hate new restaurants. There's nothing better than going to a place you're familiar with and ordering the same food every time. I don't get why people try new things. New means uncertainty. Sure, perhaps this new restaurant will be great. But there's a better chance your dinner will be ruined. Who knows, maybe this new restaurant is run by an evil mastermind who plans to poison all of his customers. Call me crazy, but I do not want to get poisoned.
My mom then called me again the following afternoon...
Mom: OK, we're going to a restaurant called Bravo!
(Note: I'm not putting an exclamation point there because my mom shouted this. The restaurant has one by default, much like Yahoo! Pretty pretentious if you ask me. Perhaps I should change my name to "Walter!")
Me: Ugh. I don't know what that is.
Mom: It's in Willow Grove Mall. It's supposed to be good!
Me: Why can't we just go to one of the usual places?
Mom: It's Jackie's birthday, and that's where she wants to go.
Me: Ugh. I don't think that's very fair.
Mom: OK, we're going at 7 instead of 8. Just go to Willow Grove Mall. You'll see it on the left-hand side near Macy's.
Me: Where the hell is Willow Grove Mall?
Mom: Walt... we've been there 5,000 times. Just go down Philmont, which turns into Old Welsh, and then cross... what's that road called... Route 611... Then the mall will be on the first right.
I could already tell this was an ominous sign that this birthday dinner would be a disaster. And it indeed was. I encountered seven jerks on my way to or at Bravo! - seven deadly jerks, if you will - but I didn't have a choice in the matter, so I got dressed at 6:45 and ventured off to this new restaurant.
1. Deer Sign
Old Welsh Road sucks. It's a two-lane road that suddenly transforms into one lane without any sort of warning until the last second. I nearly hit someone while switching lanes.
This particular road always goes through a heavily wooded area. I saw a deer sign. If you live in an area without these abominations, here's what it looked like:
Great, so someone took the effort to put a sign on the road to inform us that there are deer, yet they couldn't do that to warn us that the right lane was abruptly ending? That makes so much sense.
What's the point of a deer sign anyway? If any of those Bambi a**holes runs into the road right in front of your car, you're f***ed. You almost likely won't have enough time to swerve out of the way, regardless of whether you're watching out for deer.
Oh, and what's with the "1 mile" thing? How does this douche who put in the sign know that deer live exactly one mile beyond the sign? What if the deer have migrated and now live 1.2 miles beyond the sign? Is there some loser driver looking at his mile counter and going, "Hurrr durrr, I just went exactly one mile, so I don't have to look out for deer anymore!" What if a deer runs in front of his car at that very moment? If he survives, can he sue the POS who posted that dumb sign?
2. Route 611
I managed to avoid all of the deer in the one-mile stretch on Old Welsh Road, and I finally saw signs for Route 611, which happened to be Old York Road. OK, so the next light was Willow Grove Mall, right?
Well, I turned onto this road and continued down it. I drove for about three minutes, but saw nothing. My phone then rang. It was my mom, who asked where I was.
Me: I turned on the first right after Old York Road, just like you said.
Mom: Old York Road? You're supposed to turn after Easton Road!
Me: But Old York Road is Route 611.
Mom: So is Easton Road. There are two Route 611s.
Me: Ugh, why didn't you tell me that? And why are there two Route 611s!?
Mom: Hold on, one second. Uhh, yeah, I'd like to order for my son who's not here. He'd like the chicken parm with spaghetti and a garden salad.
Me: You're ordering already?
Mom: And I'd like to have the Penne Mediterranean...
Me: Mom, where do I go?
Mom: Now, does that come with...
Mom: Oh, OK, it does? Oh, what would he like to drink? Sprite's fine, thank you.
Me: I don't want Sprite.
Mom: Thank you, yeah, he'll be here soon.
I found my way to the restaurant five minutes later. Everyone looked disappointed that I had arrived so late. I blame the idiot who thought it would be a good idea to have two Route 611s. I sat down and grumpily sipped on my unwanted Sprite.
3. Women at Bravo!
Let's take a small step back. When I walked into Bravo!, I was immediately greeted by five hostesses. They were all super hot. I don't know why this restaurant needed five hostesses, but I wasn't complaining. In fact, I could barely say anything because I was so overwhelmed.
I saw my family - plus my sister's boyfriend - so I didn't have to stutter and stammer much longer. I walked over, and as I did so, I passed by a waitress who wasn't nearly as attractive as the hostesses. That's when I noticed the attire. All of these women were dressed exactly like the men - they had button-down shirts with red ties and dress pants.
I think this is a load of crap. I don't know whose idea it was to have the women dress like the men, but it's definitely some person obsessed with equality bulls***. I personally think it's sexist, and I'm offended by it. Women should be able to show off their bodies; that way, they'll get bigger tips. Having them dress like men means they'll take in less money each night. So, it appears as though Bravo! is a sexist establishment that wants to keep its female employees down.
Oh, and what's with the ties anyway? I absolutely hate ties. I think they're the worst things ever. They're tight and make it difficult to breathe. They're impossible to put on. And they don't even look good anyway. I'm a big fan of the open-collar look. It's the way of the future. If you don't believe me, check out Person of Interest's John Reese:
Now there's a man who knows how to dress fashionably. If John Reese can pull off the open-collar look, then why can't I? I don't mean to brag, but I'd say I'm just as attractive to women as John Reese - if not more so! With that in mind, I think we can all agree that I never have to wear a tie ever again.
4. Homophobic Neighbor
As we waited for our food, my sister recounted something that happened to her earlier that day. She was walking her dog when she bumped into a neighbor off hers, a Mexican man in his 60s, who was also walking his dog.
The two dogs, who had never seen each other before, started sniffing one another. My sister and the Mexican man struck up a conversation that lasted a couple of minutes. The Mexican man constantly looked down at the two dogs warily, but my sister said that she assumed he was just worried that his dog, which happened to be smaller, would somehow suffer some sort of injury.
And then it happened. The Mexican man announced that he had to leave because:
"I don't want my dog to keep sniffing your dog. I don't want him to turn into a gay."
I nearly spat out my Sprite. I never imagined anyone would think that an animal could transform into a homosexual by sniffing another one.
Humans are animals too, so perhaps I should try this out. Hold on, I'm going to drive over to my parents' house and sniff my dog to see if I become gay.
OK I'm like back guyth and like Jeezth Chriitthh I thaw thith one guy walking down the threet and like OMG he wath like thoooo hot likeee OMMMGGG. I need to like go cloth thopping and becauth I thaw thith thexthy top that would looookk FFFFAABULLLOUUTTHHH on me like OOOMMGG!!!
All right, all right, I know I fooled you all, but I was just kidding. I didn't turn gay. At least I don't think I did...
They finally brought our salads out. They looked weird. There was the usual lettuce, tomato and onions, but there were these weird white specks on top.
Me: What the hell is this white crap?
Well excuse me for not being so sophisticated! Cheese is meant to look yellow and tasty. It's not supposed to look like bird poop.
I'm usually a big fan of salads, but mine just didn't seem right. My mom exclaimed, "This is delicious salad!" but I grimaced and disagreed.
Mom: What's wrong?
Me: It just doesn't taste right to me.
Mom: That's probably because of the salad dressing.
Me: Wait, this isn't Ranch?
Me: Why didn't you ask for Ranch?
Mom: They don't have Ranch.
Me: What!? Why don't they have Ranch!?
Mom: Because this is an Italian restaurant.
I almost lost my mind. Why does it matter if it's an Italian restaurant or not? This particular restaurant happened to have Sprite. Is Sprite Italian? Not in the slightest. Sprite is created by the Coca-Cola Company, whose headquarters happen to be in Atlanta. So, if Bravo! can have Sprite, why can't it also carry Ranch dressing? Blatant racism.
This made me realize how foolish I was. Bravo! sucks but I'm the one to blame. I should have brought an emergency bottle of Ranch dressing with me. I didn't trust Bravo! to begin with, so I should've known they'd screw me out of Ranch dressing. But I blame myself. Everyone should have an emergency bottle of Ranch dressing with them at all times.
6. New Car
Waiting for dinner to come was aggravating. Not only was I starving, but my parents continuously pestered me. You see, they've been on my case to buy a new car now for nearly two years. "Your car's getting old," they constantly say.
My car's not that old. It's a 2004 Honda Accord that I received on my 25th birthday six years ago. It's never had any trouble of any sort, and I'm comfortable driving it. I barely drive anyway because I work from home; it currently has 63,000 miles on it (it had 40,000 or so back in 2007).
Some people are all about buying new cars and stuff, but I don't want to. I'm fine with my car now, and I don't want to learn something new. Now, if my car were on the verge of breaking down, sure, I'd buy a new vehicle. But I just don't see the point to do that now.
My parents don't see it that way. Here's how the conversation went to give you an idea of how annoyed I was.
Dad: Walter, buy a new car.
Me: Nah, I don't want to.
Dad: Why not?
Me: Why would I?
Dad: You need a new car. Your car's old.
Me: It's not that old.
Dad: Trust me, it's old.
Me: It's not old, and I barely drive it. I like my car.
Dad: So, buy the same car.
Me: Why would I do that?
Dad: You'll be comfortable and you'll have a new car.
Me: I don't see the point. Seems like a waste of money.
Dad: You need to spend money to have fun.
Me: Fun? I wouldn't have fun with a new car. I'd be miserable!
Dad: Stop it. Just buy a new car. Girls will like your new car.
Me: What? If it's the same car, how will they know the difference?
Dad: They'll know. Trust me.
Me: I don't care. I barely drive anyway.
Dad: Hey, tell your son to buy a new car.
Mom: Buy a new car! You can even get the same type!
Mom: Or if you don't want the same car, you can buy a jeep!
Me: A jeep? What the hell would I do with a jeep?
My sister's boyfriend Rich overheard the conversation and seemed to think this was a good idea, though he was pretty much having fun with/trolling me.
Rich: Yeah, a jeep's a great idea!
Me: Ugh, not you too?
Rich: Dude, you can do so many activities in a jeep!
Dad: Listen to Rich. He knows.
Me: But I don't want to do activities.
Dad: Why not?
Me: I hate activities! I don't want to do activities! I just want to drive my regular car and not do any sort of activities, and that's that!
I still can't get over this. Do I seem like someone who wants to do any sort of activities? In fact, the fewer activities I ever have to do, the better. I can't even find a local mall, yet I'm going to drive off in a jeep and do activities?
7. Tomato Sauce
I was expected the chicken parm to be crappy, but it was actually pretty delicious - though it took me a while to start eating it.
The waiter brought us our dinner, but I noticed that my meal barely had any tomato sauce. I asked for more, and he came back with a tiny saucer.
"I don't think this is going to be enough," I said. He left and came back a minute later with another tiny saucer, which still didn't suffice. Why didn't he bring me an entire bowl of tomato sauce? Is Bravo! that stingy with it?
"I still need more tomato sauce!" I shouted in frustration. Looking completely miffed, the waiter left this time for about five minutes. He returned with another tiny saucer.
I had the urge to dump this tiny saucer on his head for being so niggardly with the tomato sauce, but I realized that wouldn't do anything because there was barely anything in these saucers.
It took this a**hole waiter a fourth try to finally get it right. He brought out a slightly larger saucer, which sufficed. I don't know why he didn't just do this in the first place.
Now that I think about it, someone in the kitchen probably splooged in my tomato sauce because I asked for so much. Perhaps that's why the chicken parm tasted so yummy.
Wait, did I just say that I enjoyed splooge? Holy crap, the Mexican neighbor was right!