Those bastards!
At Castenella's for lucasthegray's birthday, I had a ton of leftover steak (from shogunhb), most of my porkchop, and a lot of mashed potatoes. I opened the box today to enjoy my tasty, tasty lunch, and what's in there? About a tablespoon of potatoes, and a tiny wee section of steak.
Where's the rest of my food, dammit?!
So, either, they brought my plate in back and decided to give me less then half of what I had remaining, or, in time honored tradition, someone else grabbed my leftovers and have enjoyed a delicious meal at my expense.
Either way, I'm full of grumpy about it. And hating on snow, but that's a tale for another day.
Can I call a restaurant and demand the rest of my leftovers?
I'm tempted to write a response poem (a la "Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd") to
"This is Just to Say", as I now understand the full asshattery that it encompasses:
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
*grumble grumble*
Where's the rest of my food, dammit?!
So, either, they brought my plate in back and decided to give me less then half of what I had remaining, or, in time honored tradition, someone else grabbed my leftovers and have enjoyed a delicious meal at my expense.
Either way, I'm full of grumpy about it. And hating on snow, but that's a tale for another day.
Can I call a restaurant and demand the rest of my leftovers?
I'm tempted to write a response poem (a la "Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd") to
"This is Just to Say", as I now understand the full asshattery that it encompasses:
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
*grumble grumble*