Skii's Junk: Rants

5 Kinds of People at Restaurants

5 Kinds of People at Restaurants

1. That Waiter or Waitress who always asks you if you want something when mouth is full.

There's no way in all of eternity I could of gotten his/her attention when I had a mouth not stuffed with half a buttered roll. But the second you take an enormous mouthful of mashed potatoes or a Big Mac, she asks you, "Do you need anything?"

That's when you halfway choke as you try to answer and either gross out half the people in the restaurant by showing your partly chewed food or you annoy the waiter by waiting awkwardly for what feels like all of two hours until you swallow and answer with two words that you couldn't have gotten out for the life of ya two seconds ago.

"No thanks."

2. The Re-re-re-re-refiller

Omiword! Every time I take a sip...

"Would you like a refill?"

Then, after I accept 1256 times, I have to run to the bathroom all of 2 seconds later before my bladder explodes.

3. The Birthday Party demons of disaster, death, doom, and ketchup.

For some reason, it feels like every stinkin' time I go to a restaurant, some kids with demon possessed friends are having a birthday party. These kids are everywhere. You'll be sitting at a table minding your own business when a stray french fry comes flying at like 4567 mph towards your face.

It gets even worse when they break out the ice cream. That's your cue to running screaming to the doors.

4. Those people who don't figure out what they're going to order when they're in line.

So they just sit there in Mcdonalds, hmming and looking and staring at the menu for all of eternity while you wait in line, starving to death, ready to eat the sandpaper-like Mcdonalds napkins, and a little stir crazy.

5. The Moochers.

Those people who order hardly anything, then mooch off of you, stealing your fries and snitches and bits of your meal.

"I just want a taste..."

*In the news papers the next day*

Teen tragically stabbed by friend with french fry. "He deserved it," friend claimed. Blood covers the crime Scene... or is that ketchup?