On Sunday the mister and I spent the day with his parents and his sister and her husband. We wandered around the Como Conservatory and Zoo. I brought my camera and spent most of the day with it stuck to my face so I didn’t have to interact much.
I know, that’s rude. But I was tired, riding a hormone wave, and just not up to talking for three freaking hours without taking a breath, particularly since the men were discussing hunting, fishing, and keeping coyotes out of the sheep pen (shit you not) and the women were discussing calories and weight loss. I, like all women, can and will discuss these things, but not for three hours. I get bored after about 10 minutes. So, camera.
Then we all decided to go to Matt’s Bar for lunch. The mister and I have been there frequently, but no one in our group had.
For those of you that have never experience the joys of Matt’s Bar, it is a dark hole in the wall place with way too many tables crammed into way too small of an area. They serve Jucy Lucy’s, a delicious, wonderful burger made out of two thin patties enclosing a layer of molten hot melted cheese. And they serve fries. And that’s about it. They don’t even have a full bar. It’s beer, Coke in a can, Jucy Lucy’s and fries.
There’s always only one waitress on duty and the best way to describe her, no matter who she is, is surly. The waitstaff there is always grouchy.
So, the six of us settle at a table. The mister orders for us. “We’ll both have a Jucy Lucy, mine with fried onions and hers with raw. We’ll split a basket of fries. I’ll have a Killian’s, she’ll have a Diet Coke.”
Sister-in-law and her husband follow suit and order without a hitch.
Then comes the mother-in-law. “How many calories are in a Jucy Lucy?”
The waitress gave her a look that would peel paint, one of those looks that clearly asks are you fucking kidding me? and responded with, “It’s filled with cheese. I have no idea, but I’m sure it’s a lot.”