I visited Teejay yesterday and my lack of dinner and Val’s interest in ice cream resulted in us at the Jenkintown Applebees.  Our female server had the glasses and face of Napoleon Dynamite and a slow wit with wonderful comments like “I know you like the menu, but other people need it” with that condescending lilt that makes me want to punch babies.

After a 1/2 dozen order mistakes and finding a lake Tinkle in the bathroom I fought back the only way I could think of, by acting like a total idiot.

  1. Teejay and I tried to figure out how much shredded lettuce we could stick to our faces using sour cream and honey mustard sauce.   The sour cream held the lettuce well but didn’t stick to the face as much as honey mustard, this may become handy some day.
  2. When she asked about our dessert orders I requested the chocolate cake, which they apparently out of, I asked for more time.  When she returned, I asked for the chocolate cake, rinse and repeat.
  3. She was a bit slow on drink re-fills, we were there for about 2 hours and I got 1 re-fill where I’d normally get 3 or 4.  I asked for two boxes, one for my quesadillas and one for my drink.  I poured the drink into the box and drove the straw through the opening next to the closing tab and the straw fit in nicely even after it was closed.  I tried to drink as much as possible as she walked by but being an oblivious bitch I got no reaction so I etched “Bitch” into the top of the Styrofoam containers with my thumbnail.

She then billed us for things she never actually served us.  Never again, Jenkintown Applebees.

Dave came over after a girlfriend-induced 2-hour delay and we planned operation “Is this beer too small” begun in a previous post.  The 23 oz glass seemed to barely accommodate much more than a single 12 oz soda and I restrained myself from speed-dialing the Department of Weights and Measures and instead chose guerrilla science.

Dave and I smuggled in measuring equipment and all went well until drink orders.  Dave was supposed to get a 23 oz drink for me to measure, but then something went horribly long…

Server:  What can I get you to drink?
Me: I’ll have a water.
Dave:  I’ll have a Sprite.
Server: Okay, I’ll….
Me: I’ll have a 23 oz black and tan.
Dave: I don’t like black and tans.
Me: I’ll have a lager.
Dave: Yuengling.
Server: Okay, do you want two glasses?
Dave: Yes.
Me: No.

I no way did we look like tards at this point.  Honest.  She returned with the drinks and I realized that we were a vessel short.  I downed my water and dumped my ice into Dave’s Sprite and hastily pored the lager into the measuring cup creating a ridiculous amount of head.  So, at this point, there was a 1/2 empty Brewtus glass, my empty water glass, Dave’s Sprite overflowing with ice, and a very frothy beer in an OXO measuring cup.  Time was ticking away for the foam to clear before the server returned and I caught some odd looks from the restaurant inhabitants as I ineffectively blew on the beer.  The head cleared, I dumped the beer into my empty vessel and filled the remaining beer into the measuring cup, 24 oz, fuck.  Everything gets consolidated back into Dave’s glass as the server returned and offered to refilled my de-beered water glass. I demanded a new glass and got the hairy eyeball, and broke down and explained the situation and she was surprisingly understanding and stated that they did have a smaller 16 oz glass but we’d clearly gotten the 23 oz one.  I asked the server if I could buy the glass for further analysis and she asked her manager.

Server: We’re not supposed to sell the glasses.
Me: What happens if someone breaks one?
Server: We sweep it up…
Me: No no, do you charge them?
Server: No, we don’t.
Me: So we can break your glasses?
Server: Well, I guess, but you might get kicked out.
Me: Hm…

Minutes later she passed by and looked at us, flashed us an open spread hand and mouthed the word “5” to us.  We added 5 to the 60% tip and Dave slipped the glass into his hoodie’s main pocket.  At home, I pulled out the two glasses.  Same damn size.  So, did space-time bend or did I get a super can of Pepsi Max that could nearly fill a 23 oz glass.  Or, option C, I’m a complete tard.

Anthony turned 21 on Friday and wanted to celebrate. We met at Applebee’s and as I arrived first I ordered a round of drinks where Tom Leitz requested that Anthony not get a girly drink so I got him a Philadelphia Black and Tan in a 23 oz. glass. Everyone arrived and I was quite relieve that when Tom said “Bill was coming” that it was Schilling and not Mischke.

Anyway, Anthony’s glass’s fluid level slowly dropped but I’m certain that this was largely due to evaporation. I accosted him about this to which he responded “I had a number of daquiri’s on my birthday and I’m still recovering”. He didn’t finish his drink so I did what any reasonable person would, I made him steal it so he could finish it at camp. He declined, so I stole it (after paying for it which I suppose makes it not stealing) and I now a curvy iced tea glass.  On the plus side, it would have been hell to try to hold his hair back as he worshiped the porcelain god.