Monday, April 23, 2012

Dining For Douchebags



Many of you have heard me rant on ad nauseum about the increasing lack of social graces in this country.  Indeed it seems as though etiquette, and Jesus!  Even basic table manners have disappeared faster than a box of doughnuts after a Weight Watchers meeting.  Now, I’m not talking about some Emily-Post-white-glove-nineteen different-shrimp/salad/dinner-forks-around-your plate-like-it’s-a-fucking-cutlery-Stonehenge type of dickery; I’m talking about basic knowledge like not clipping your toenails in line at Chipotle or regaling me with the history of your last pap smear over your cell phone in Starbucks.  Most people seem to be accepting of this slow disintegration of civility while other assholes concerned citizens such as myself have simply lined their personal borders with razor wire and gun turrets as a grand “Fuck you” to the general public.

Never before was such a surreal breach of etiquette made manifest than at dinner last Saturday night.  OK, a little backstory just to get the party started. . .

All this week I have been as giddy as a Japanese teen in a Hello Kitty store because ((“SQUEE!”)) my Twitter-brutha Curtis and his friend Jamie were coming to Portland from Cali to celebrate his 30th birthday!*

*This was the first time I’d met Curtis in person and his fabulousness did not disappoint.  Nor did Jamie’s. . .within 5 minutes of knowing her she belched in my presence and let me touch her boobs.  I’m in love with them both.

So after a day of shopping, eating, and mocking the patrons of the Saturday Market we began preparing for dinner.  Now, not only was Curtis turning 30, but his cousin Vickie was as well so they had planned an entire 30’s themed dinner party, complete with full vintage costume.  I, of course, being a nonconformist way too fucking lazy to buy a costume, showed up in a sequined mini-dress and platform fuschia heels.*

*My neighbor told me I looked like J-Lo. . .or maybe she said I’m a ‘ho.  Either way, yea me!

When we arrived at the restaurant, Curtis, Jamie and I were a trifle annoyed to find that the majority of the guests showed up around 8:00pm for a 7:30pm reservation.  Now, first of all, I eat like a goddamned octogenarian so this dining after eight crap does not set well with my metabolism.  By the time each guest was seated, I was ready to go all Uruguyan soccer player on the next asshole who walked by.

Curtis and Jamie were seated to my right, and a lovely blonde couple took up residence on my left.  They introduced themselves as Sean and Amber and that is when the evening’s festivities began in earnest.  Within five minutes I had ascertained that Sean was one of those overgrown fraternity assholes who enjoys binge drinking and regaling you with tales of his days dropping Bing cherries from his ass into shot glasses at the Phi Delt house and Amber had about as much going on upstairs as a yam.*

*I hate to be judgmental, but I’m just so fucking GOOD at it!

Immediately Sean crept under my skin when he began scouring the menu as though there would be a quiz on it later and informed Amber that, “We’d better share the chicken because it’s so expensive here!”  He then proceeded to grin like Joe Isuzu on crack and blather on to me about how much money he made.  Curtis and I tried to avert our eyes and avoid engaging but it was like being trapped on a cross-country flight with a Jehovah’s Witness who sells life insurance.  There was no escape.

We had a slight reprieve while the salads were being served, but as Curtis’ was placed before him he excused himself to have a photo taken with his lovely cousin.  At that moment a hand darted in front of me and grabbed at Curtis’ salad bowl.

“What IS this?” cried Sean, passing the bowl to Amber.  She shrugged blankly as he took the bowl back and I watched in abject horror as he poked one of the beets with his index finger and loudly sniffed the bowl's contents.  “Seriously, what IS this?”

“I. . .it’s beets.” I stammered as Jamie stifled her laughter between bites of baguette.  “Umm. . .let’s put it back, OK?”  He shrugged and handed back Curtis’ salad bowl.  As Curtis came back to the table I just had time to hiss “Holy fucking shit, he just SNIFFED your salad!” before Curtis dropped his fork in horror.

Then the entrees arrived.  Sean and Amber judiciously divided their discount chicken and ((shudder)) began to feed one another.  Then Sean’s gaze drifted over to our dinners.

“Whoa!” he hooted, pointing at Curtis’ plate “that looks awesome! What did you get?”

“It’s duck.” Curtis said flatly, hoping to deflect any further interaction.

“Man, I gotta try that!” grinned Sean as he reached toward Curtis’ plate.

“Here!” cried Curtis, brandishing a piece before him on a fork, “Just take it!”

After first attempting to (I shit you not) eat from Curtis’ fork, Curtis recoiled and flung the meat onto Sean’s plate like he was slopping the hogs.  I then caught Sean eying my dish.

Damn! That looks awesome!” he shouted with glee, fork at the ready, “are those scallops?” OK, first of all, I don’t share food.  I just. . .no.  Secondly, it was now about 9:00pm and you don’t fuck with a psychotically aggressive woman with the blood sugar of Lot’s wife.  “Yes they are,” I replied “I’d offer you some but I’m not sure if my latest herpes outbreak is in full remission”.  He retreated reluctantly with one last longing gaze at my shellfish.

Jamie looked up from her dinner thoughtfully.  “I’m picturing a scenario involving a remote cabin…and wolves.  It’s not fully fleshed out though.”  As I was stifling my laughter yet again I heard my phone chirp.  I extracted it from my bag and read the text while Curtis gazed innocently around the table.



After that we kept our phones ensconced in our laps so as to better share the snark in peace as we watched our fellow guests dodging Sean’s fork like it was a fight scene from “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon”.


It was at that point that his sweet yet dim-witted girlfriend Amber leaned over with a smile.

“Vickie and are such good friends.  I’m sooooo glad I could be here for her 30th birthday.  Are you her mom?”

Wait. . .Back.  The fuck.  Up.  Now I’ll be honest, I don’t mind surrounding myself with stupid people.  The clever ones just get bored and aren’t as easy to manipulate but did she?  I. . .wait, wha-WHAT!?!?

“No”, I smiled through clenched teeth. “You see,  that would make me ten when she was born”.  Amber pondered this thoughtfully while I blackened Curtis’ shins under the table to keep him from laughing himself into an asthma attack.

“Oh,” Amber slowly drawled, “yeah. . .that probably wouldn’t work.”

“I don’t know,” Curtis replied, “have you seen most of those ten year old girls today?  Whores.  All of them, whores.”



Amber nodded solemnly and began attempting to eat her vegetables.  Unfortunately, as she was in full vintage gear, she was struggling and loudly bemoaned the fact that she wasn’t sure how to eat her carrots without getting her gloves dirty.

“Well,” Jamie offered helpfully, “you could always take OFF your gloves.  And of course, there are forks.  Forks are good.”*
*I pride myself in my ability to mask my blatant sarcasm but Jamie was a thing of wonder.  That bitch could fake it like a whore being paid by the moan.  Much love, Jamie. ((s-l-o-w c-l-a-p))

Thrilled with her newfound ability to use cutlery, Amber dove into her vegetables with glee while Vickie’s boyfriend led everyone in a round of Happy Birthday.  As for the performance of said song, let me simply note that each time the words “you” were uttered, Sean made ‘shooting guns’ fingers at both Vickie and Curtis and finished the final crescendo by standing and making. . .wait for it. . .jazz hands.  I will now give you a moment to absorb the true douchebaggery of it all.

((moment of silence))



As the party was winding down, Sean noticed that the party in the next room was exiting as well.  Without a word, he rose and made his way to the adjoining room.  He returned shortly after with a plate laden with food.

“Wait,” I sputtered “did. . .did you just take food from someone else’s party?”

“Damn, this is AMAZING!” he mumbled while cramming food into his greasy maw. “What IS this shit?”  Moments later the restaurant manager arrived at his side and he quickly grabbed her arm.  “Hey, what were they eating in there?  This is great!”

Looking stunned, but God bless her professional to the core she politely informed him as to the contents of his pilfered food.

“Since they’re all done, can you box this shit up for me?” he grinned; mouth smeared with mustard sauce.  Visibly recoiling, the manager stepped slowly away from the table and retreated to the kitchen.  It was at this point that Curtis, Jamie and I bid our adieus and wandered back to the hotel room in stunned silence.

“If I hadn’t witnessed it I would totally call bullshit if you described that dinner.” I whispered quietly.

“It. . .I. . .there are no words.”  Curtis agreed, shaking his head slowly.

Jamie looked up in fear, “Oh Jesus, you don’t think they’ll breed, do you?”

The three of us shuddered in silence and stared straight ahead, trying desperately to process the evening.

I know we should be a world of ‘live and let live’ and that far too often we get caught up in the Orwellian mentality of shoving our noses into other people’s lifestyles, but for the love of God, Mother Mary, and the Sweet Baby Jeebus we are not a soluistic society, so unless you want me to punch you so hard that you scream like a Backstreet Boy taking a polo mallet to the nuts then take one for the team and at least ATTEMPT to behave like a fully evolved homo sapien in public.  And to Sean and the rest of his ilk out there dwelling on the ‘crassy knoll’, if you don’t wish to join the rest of us in this noble pursuit of civility then the rest of us would like to cordially invite you to please go fuck yourself.

Happy birthday, Curtis!

Xoxo,
Jen

PS: Come check out my podcast with Noa and Alicia from OhNoa.  We discuss everything from giraffes with pipe bombs to Nathan Fillion's testicles.  Good times, my friends: http://ohnoa.com/podcast-2-2/

42 comments:

Sheila said...

I don't even have any words to describe the horror I am experiencing right now. When I started reading this I just thought you were going to talk about saying "thank you" and "pardon me" or holding the door open for someone, etc. There is seriously something wrong with people that act like that. Alls I'm sayin......

Mrs Social Assassin said...

I can only applaud your self restraint and decorum - I have no idea how you managed it! I'd have probably stabbed the pair of them at salad..... Take satisfaction in your moral high ground, and hope you never have to see either of them again lol! x

Sheila said...

I bet you looked great in your minidress and stilletos though, hehe.

Alanapaints said...

There is SO much to love about this post. And SO much to hate about Curtis and Amber. Bravo.

But now I'm beginning to wonder what everyone else is texting about at dinner parties - hope to hell it's not me. :-D

Jen said...

SHEILA - Like I said, I NEVER would have believed that shit if I hadn't witnessed it first hand. And yeah, my dress was rad! ;)

EMILY - It took every last shred of willpower to not gouge their eyes out with my shrimp fork.

Jen said...

ALANA - Oh my God, it was ACTUALLY funny until Amber implied that I looked old enough to have a 30 year old. Then it got ugly.

Brett Minor said...

I would have loved to be at that dinner. The most entertaining part of moments like that is the inner turmoil I feel in trying to decide which comments to keep to myself and which ones to let fly.

So jealous.

Jen said...

BRETT - It was majestic. The next morning over chicken and waffles at Screen Door, Curtis and I kept asking each other "Did that really happen? No, REALLY!?!? I mean it. . .did we dream that?"

Ally Gregory-Moore said...

Those ass hats represent everything I hate about my generation.

Gia said...

UGHHHHH EWWWWWWW. How can he eat RANDOM STRANGER'S FOOD?!?!? I can't. I can't.

sars said...

1. ho. lee. shit.
2. why oh why was there not a fucking conveniently timed video chat with me during this glorious madness?!?!?!?
3. I miss all the good stuff.
4. Isn't he the bomb shit diggity??? And I think you may be ripping him from my grasp. bitch.

Love you and soooooo wish I'd have been there. I would have bitch slapped that mother fucker like nobody's business and bowed as people clapped.

Leauxra said...

Wait, you were TEXTING at the TABLE?!?!?

I jest. Sort of. Because I would not have been able to keep from telling them to fuck off. I don't like to hold that sort of thing in. It isn't healthy.

mistyslaws said...

I applaud your obvious restraint. If it was me and that motherfucker went for one of my scallops, my fork would be so far buried in his meaty frat boy paw that he would lose all feeling in it for the rest of his sad loser existence.

And Amber must not be that close to her, if she doesn't even know who her mother is! Fraud.

Kelly said...

I can't decide if this is the most horrible or awesome dinner EVAH.

Andrea said...

Truth is stranger, and much funnier apparently, than fiction!

Jen said...

ALLY- it's just the few bad apples that screw it for us all.

Jen said...

GIA- I know, right? (gag!)

Jen said...

SARS- he is the best! I so wish you could have been there. :(

LEAUXRA- Texting was necessary so I didn't tell him to go fuck himself out loud.

MISTY- Shit...maybe I aM growing up! Damn...

Janene said...

Holy fucking shit. That.. that... that just amazes me. Although I shouldn't be surprized - I had lunch with a classmate who, upon realizing that my then-bf and I were finished our food, decided to finish our pancakes, toast and anything else we didn't want to eat. Although, to give him credit, he did wait until we were finished instead of sniffing and picking away at our food while we ate.

mistyslaws said...

Well . . . let's not get ahead of ourselves now! ;)

Jenna said...

I get really strident about manners in some places, especially when my friends are too polite to snap about it. For example, had I been sitting near you and the food-snatchers, I'd have stopped his forays with a rather firm, "Hey hey hey, that's not your plate! You ASK before taking from someone else." I also probably would have taken his ill-gotten meal and handed it off to the hostess, while informing him that such things ARE NOT DONE. My goodness. do you suppose Emily Post would advocate the use of forks as defensive weaponry in such cases? I JUST CANNOT EVEN.

lazysubculturalgirl said...

I DO NOT SHARE FOOD. Everyone who eats with me knows this; if you so much as make a move in the direction of my plate, I will stab you with my fork. I paid for it, I'ma gonna eat it.

On the other hand, I'm kind of sorry I missed this level of majestic fuckery. You'll dine out on this story for years.

Tainted Fibers said...

Sometimes you gotta wonder where the fuck that hidden camera is. I have no words.

Jennifer Clark said...

OK, that was bad. I'm the mom who dogs my kids over elbows on the tables. Bless your restraint! I think I would have excused them from the table.

And what the fuck does "soluistic" mean? I tried to look it up, but found bugger all.

Jen said...

JANENE - I'm actually more disturbed by the jazz hands, I shit you not.

MISTY - :p

JENNA - I think Emily Post would fully advocate a good knifing...as long as I used the proper utensil and kept my napkin in my lap at all times.

ANDI - I'm still in shock. I have N-E-V-E-R seen anything like this.

FIBERS - I kept waiting for John Quinones to come out and ask "What would YOU do?"

JENN C - That's because it should be "soloistic" meaning one sole entity. I don't have spellcheck on my hoopty computer.

Curtis said...

Jamie read this to me as I was driving down the 101 at 70 MPH...
Laughing, crying and stomping one's feet like a two year old on a caffeine bender does not make for good driving etiquette.
If I had not been there, I don't know that I would have believed that this level of douchebaggery existed outside of some asinine sitcom script.
I was rereading our conversations via text and Twitter, just now, and I still don't think that I believe we survived without having to call someone for bail money.

Carrie - Cannibalistic Nerd said...

I'm also of the "my food is not a shared meal for the table" school. I'm a systematic eater, any spontaneous invasive "tastes" can ruin my robotic enjoyment of my meal.

Von said...

I was snickering away until I got to pointing guns fingers and jazz hands. Then I really wanted to find an ICBM to hammer up that jerk's ass.

And anyone who even attempts to take food off my plate is going to lose his hands.

hoodyhoo said...

Sweet Baby Jeebus in a tuxedo t-shirt from Baby Gap... "ARE YOU HER MOM?" Plus, WHO TAKES FOOD FROM NOT ONLY SOMEONE ELSE'S PLATE BUT FROM SOMEONE ELSE'S PARTY??? Dear lord, thank you for not allowing me to witness this, or someone would be dead.
Also? C is only 30? Whippersnapper.

WeezaFish said...

You handled that so well, as did the other fully evolved amongst you. I'd like to say I'm sorry you had to experience this, but then we wouldn't have the pleasure of this post! Jaw droppingly funny. In a OMFG kind of way.

Jen said...

CURTIS & JAMIE - OMG I love you both so fucking hard. We all deserve a damned Purple Heart for surviving that dinner. AAACCCCKK! ((HUGS))

CARRIE - Another reason why I take issue with P-Town's mad love for communal dining. No. . .just, no.

VON - Any straight man who does jazz hands needs a swift Buffy the Vampire Slayer roundhouse kick to the carotid artery.

HOOSY - He's a bay-bay but he is fucking rad as shit. You have NO idea how much I wish you were there.

WEEZA - It was bittersweet indeed.

Sheila said...

Jen, I've missed you today. Hope you're having a wonderful day.

Jen said...

SHEILA - Good day, just super busy. I hate it when work actually wants me to freakin' work. Pfft! Whatever.

Sheila said...

The very idea. Mine's the same way after losing a sales exec recently. I'm pulling my hair out but I run to the blogs on my lunch hour and found you weren't on here today :( Have a great evening then.

mark said...

Remarkable. That is, as far as I can tell, the future. I've said it before and I'll say it again - Mike Judge's movie Idiocracy is a prophecy. "It's got electrolytes!"

Jen said...

SHEILA - I'll be back tomorrow, I promise. :)

MARK - "Ideocracy". . .brilliant. "You have a CostCo?" "Yeah, I went to law school there."

Jim said...

This seems made up. . . how . . . who would. . . wow.

I need clarification:
".within 5 minutes of knowing her she belched in my presence and let me touch her boobs. I’m in love with them both." Both boobs? Jamie and her boobs? Curtis and Jamie? Curtis and the boobs? This was ambiguous. But also funny.

I miss reading your blog. You write a great story!

Johi said...

I may have dined with those people before.... so sad.
I went out once with Brock, my best friend and my older sister, and some pimple faced moron asked if Brock and I were their parents. Brock had to physically restrain me. It didn't make matters any better that I had a bad haircut and my bestie kept dropping in "soccer mom" like a subliminal message after everything he said to me. Needless to say, he and my OLDER sister were thrilled with the idea that I looked like their mother. Aaaand, now I hate everyone.....

Jen said...

JIM - I meant Curtis and Jamie, but her rack is pretty spectacular as well. :)

JOHI - I must commend you on not gouging that asshat's eyes out with a shrimp fork. Embrace the hate, my sistah. Embrace the hate.

awesomesauciness said...

I obviously am missing some kick-ass dinner parties.

I'm jealous.

I'm also usually armed with a sweet granny smile and a sharp stilletto.

Just sayin'

Anonymous said...

Jim--It is spectacular as hell, but let's just go with D.) all of the above.

I'm alright with Jen being in love with my rack. There are people in 16 of the lower 48 who feel the same way about the ladies. Facts are facts-- They're amazing.

Jen, just reliving this night. Best. Post. Ever.

-Jamie

Jen said...

JAMIE - I have relived it so very many times. And it is majestic. Every. Damned. Time.