6.06.2005

And the "sharpest tool in the shed" award narrowly misses...

Ok. Sunday night. Hanging out with AM and the crew and we were tired of the loud bar scene, so we leave Kelly's behind for the Saucer. As we suspected, no one in the joint and we had all the comfortable couches to ourselves. All rather sick of drinking but toting a serious case of the munchies, we snag a menu and peruse the usual fare. Our naughty school girl for the night introduces herself as Erica and we're off and running. Or so we thought. The kitchen was closed due to some kind of cleaning overhaul, however no one nursed their disappointment very long. Erica, as it turns out, was all the entertainment a group of our character needed. The first hint? AM and I are sick of alcohol...way too much over the course of the weekend...and so order a coke and diet coke respectively. The lovely Erica brings them to our table and stops, looking horribly confused. She finally looks at us, almost in tears, and says "I'm so sorry. I just don't know which one is diet!" Right. AM and I each grab one and disaster is averted on first taste. Then, as we try to order she continues her apology, saying "Oh! The kitchen is closed...they brought in some really loud machinery, I think some pressure wash thingys to clean up or something." Right. Pressure wash thingys. That is the technical term.

So, after the laughter had died away, we decide to let her talk as much as possible. AM, bereft of her dinner, calls for a shot and the normal indecisiveness ensues. Finally we decide on a lemon drop with strawberry vodka...except that Saucer doesn't carry this. Of course. Being evil as I am however, I decide to ask for it anyway. Erica returns and upon my inquiry after strawberry vodka responds "Yes...no....wait, um...maybe...I think we...oh...hang on." And runs away. To make a long, enjoyable evening short, the girl brought us a plate of sweet and low rather than sugar to coat our shot lemons and thoroughly entertained us for the rest of the night with phrases like "I just broke up with my boyfriend. He used to hold guns to my head. (Not funny, but we were rather thrown by that one)" and "I was going to USC, but I failed three out of my last four classes, so I don't know if I'm cut out to be a physical therapist." Please God let her be licensed before my next wreck. I can only imagine the hilarity that she would bring to a PT session!

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