Goin' to Don Paaablos to meet my hoooney...
...es mi espoooso, 'cause he's a hooottie ^_^
So I'm in Minnesota, in case anyone was unaware, visiting family, having a second graduation party, and going to the Minnesota Renaissance Festival.
...and going to the Science Museum to look at sliced up bodies. Mm, Body World.
... ... and going to Don Pablos.
... ... ... To meet my honey.
...yeah. There is a story. It isn't funny, because you weren't there. Basically our waiter, who was incredibly cute (loved the glasses) was also incredibly flustered. Gramma, Rachel, and Nicole decided that it was my fault, and proceeded to suggest I try to make it worse, because they were experiencing great pleasure at his flustered-ness. It worked. He forgot mine and Nic's spicy salsa, our chips, the refills, where he put his glasses, the cherries for our refried ice cream, our "to go" boxes, the bag for our "to go" boxes, and to pick up the check. It actually seemed like -all- of the waiters were interested in our table, because they flocked. Between my beautiful Californian cousin Nicole and my obnoxious demanding demeanor, who could resist? The waiter in the perriwinkle tried to serve us another table's food... while we were eating our dessert...
I'll admit, he was adorable. If I lived in Minnesota, I'd be sadder to know that, even though Nic left my e-mail address with the check (yeah, cute), I'll never hear from him again. But I don't live in Minnesota, and I'm completely content just having the story and singing our song...
Goin' to Don Paaablos to meet my hoooney, es mi espoooso, 'cause he's a hooottie...
(...and no, he isn't really my husband, though Nic is convinced it won't stay that way O.o I guess I'll keep everyone posted as to how -that- prediction turns out. *snort*)
~~me