Tag archives for restaurant

Monday, November 19, 2007

Annoying!

It drives me batty watching the staff at the restaurant next door ignore their ringing telephone.

Friday, November 9, 2007

Parmesan!

It smells like Parmesan cheese outside my office. Logically, the source of this scent must be the restaurant next door, but I don't know.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Vacanigans III, part 2

…and the bullet points just keep on rolling!

  • In addition to the ticket arcade, we found something else to spend obscene amounts of money on: dinner.

  • The resort is peppered with advertisements down every hallway. Quite a few of them were for one of the in-house restaurants, Karl's Steak House. There are only so many times I can see those ads before I start thinking that food is the most delicious looking food in the history of the world.

  • Karl's Steak House doesn't look like a terribly upscale place, but they sure as fuck are priced like one. The really cheap steaks were over $30 dollars and prices trended up over $100. For a steak. I know these prices aren't unheard of, but this is just not what we were expecting.

  • The Bunny ordered… uh, pasta I think (shut up, it's been two weeks), The Chicken ordered… uh, something else and I ordered the Giant Mashed Potatoes.

  • I highly recommend those potatoes. It's a big-ass mound of home made potatoes roughly the size of my head (literally), laced with butter and smothered in sour cream, thick cut bacon chunks and melted cheddar. Holy fuck, was it good. And filling. I ate less than half of it, then ate more for breakfast the next day and still had leftovers go to waste.

  • Another bright spot on the restaurant experience was the wine list. The crown jewel of their list was an 18 liter bottle of cabernet sauvignon. 18 liters. I wanted it so badly, but not badly enough to pay $1300 for it. That price does not include a team of Sherpas to lug it around for you.

  • At first I wanted the ginormous bottle of wine for myself, but Bunny had a much better idea — Christmas gift for my boss's wife and office manager Bird, a real wine enthusiast. Bunny's idea was to give her that bottle and a crazy straw and watch her go.

  • After squeaking out of the restaurant with our nest egg intact (current nest egg balance: $8.12, two old buttons, one dull washer that looks like a dime), we returned to our condo for one of my favorite parts of any hotel stay: real cable television.

  • After a very long drought, we now have cable TV at home again. But we have a super cheap package, which we only ordered because it was free at first. We get eight or nine channels, and none of them are terribly exciting.

  • Whenever we're at a hotel, I'd like nothing more than to kick back with my feet up and the History Channel on continuously. I loves me some History. I watched a show on chocolate production, another on the machines of execution, another on the underworld beneath Paris (huge, cavernous rooms filled with bones) and the most unexpectedly cool show ever… "Ice Road Truckers."

  • I've known for quite some time that Canada has a huge diamond mine up north somewhere. I had no idea how far north it was. The mine operates year round, and has it's own airstrip for deliveries of fresh food, medicine and emergency flights out. Very heavy equipment can't be flown in, it has to be driven in. The catch is that there's no road.

  • The "road" from Yellowknife to the mine is hundreds of kilometers long and only 20% of it is overland. The rest is over water. The ice is only thick enough for heavy trucks for about eight or ten weeks a year. That's the premise of the show: reality TV about truckers making a mad dash over sheet ice in near-arctic conditions and complete isolation to get a year's worth of heavy equipment to the mine in two months. The show is oddly captivating.

  • Later on, my brother-in-law and I decided on some hops- and barley-based lubrication to smooth over the stresses of howling children in close quarters. Which I'm totally exaggerating. There was very little howling, the quarters weren't that close, and we weren't that much in need. But, hey… it's beer!

  • The beers were mostly uneventful. The most noteworthy thing was our tentative plan to move the next night's required drinking (because the drinking is required, believe me) to… the boobie bar!

  • Tourist Trap has an abundance of gentlemen's establishments, which makes sense given the general "give me all your fucking money" motif established by the rest of the community. The only thing lacking is casinos. Oh, wait… the Trap has those too.

 
Tune in next time for even less inspiring events! (The excitement keeps building, I know!)

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

The hell's wrong with you?

At the restaurant next door a woman I don't recall ever seeing before was staring at me like she wanted to hurt me. What's up with that?

Monday, October 2, 2006

A disaster averted

So I went to a Chinese buffet to get some takeout last night. At the buffet was a guy refilling his plate who looked just like Waingro from Heat.

Waingro from Heat

I watched out of the corner of my eye so I could see if anything exciting was happening. Nothing exciting happened. He didn't beat in a hooker's head. No one donned hockey masks before shooting the place up with assault rifles. No one blew up an armored car. Neil McCauley did not show up to drag Waingro out into the parking lot by his hair.

I'm kind of disappointed in the last bit. The guy at the restaurant looked like a real prick.

Monday, June 19, 2006

Mmm… yummy…

So I was just at the restaurant next door. I was just there to get chips, so I didn't pay any attention to the specials board. On my way out I noticed they're featuring something called a "Texas caviar wrap."

Why does "Texas caviar" make me think "rabbit turds?"

Monday, April 24, 2006

Huh-huh, huh-huh…

Chrissy (at the restaurant next door): Ok, so that's soup, soda and a Skor.

(pause)

Chrissy: Huh-huh, huh-huh.

Me: What was that?

Chrissy: Hmm? Nothing

(pause)

Me: Huh-huh. You said "score."

Chrissy: Haha! I loved that show!

Me: I just picked up a DVD this weekend.

Chrissy: That is so cool. I want that new set.

Me: I'm going back to my office to Skor.

Chrissy: Huh-huh. Shut up, Butt-Head!

Monday, February 13, 2006

The day's book purchases and a burgeoning tradition

You know the restaurant next to my office is also a used bookstore, right? I picked up a few books with my lunch today.

First up, Jean-Jacques Rousseau's On The Social Contract. 18th century political philosophy, it's the source of one of my favorite quotes of all time. "Man is born free yet everywhere he is in chains. One who believes himself the master of others is nonetheless a greater slave than they."

Second, Christopher Moore's Practical Demonkeeping. It's a novel about a holy man of sorts and the demon with whom he travels. I always thought Moore was an author for young adults, but this book's cover has flowery praise from USA Today, the Ft. Worth Star-Telegram, and Carl Hiaasen. I may never read it, but it was only a dollar.

And finally, the jewel of the day, The Kids' Book of Insults. This is awesome. I'm going to post an insult a day until I make it through the entire book. And by that I really mean "when I remember, when I feel like it, and until I get bored."

Kid Insult of The Day: Your armpits smell so bad your teacher gave you an A for not raising your hand.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

A sandwich-making raccoon, gin, asparagus, and the disembodied head of doom

Note: this actually happened yesterday. I only got the first few sentences written yesterday, so I'm writing the whole post as if it all happened today.

So. Like I do several times a week, I went to the restaurant next door for lunch today. A placed my order with the skinny young woman who wears too much eye makeup. I don't think I'll ever be able to understand what compels some women to wear excessive amounts of black eyeshadow. This particular woman is very friendly and is otherwise lovely. But those eyes just kill me. I can't decide if she looks more like a raccoon or a battered wife.

Anyway. I wandered through the used books while they were preparing my sandwich, a Tim's Time-Tested Favorite. Nobody remembers the Tim for whom the sandwich is named.

I nosed around in the bargain bin for a few moments. On the other side of the bin was a 50-something woman who reeked of gin. Gin. At noon. Who does that? Who gets all pissed up in the morning and then decides to go browse for used books at lunch time?

She selected a few raggedy romance novels and went on her way.

As I was browsing through the hardcovers, I stood near another 50-something woman. This woman had a pretty strong odor, too. But not gin this time. She smelled just like steamed asparagus. I briefly considered asking her what she'd eaten for breakfast. Instead I moved on to a different rack.

The book racks there are about five feet high. The paperbacks are stocked in the racks and the hardcovers are stood on top of the racks.

Ever notice that a large percentage of hardcover books feature a portrait of the author on the back of the dust jacket? This store arranges hardcovers in such a way so that when I'm looking at the front of books on one side of a rack, I'm also seeing the back of books on the other side of that rack.

So when I pulled down that copy of "Living The Dream: From Sandusky to The Keys" and saw a portrait behind it, I paid no attention at all.

Until the portrait looked at me and blinked. Then I just about shit myself. My thought was something like, "Gah! Floating ghost head of death! Run!" Of course it was nothing of the sort. It was a woman of just the right height that all I could see over the top of the rack was her head. I never looked straight at her and my mind filled in any details I didn't see.

So I started a little bit. I recoiled from the woman with the floating head. She looked at me with an expression that seemed to ask, "What the hell's the matter with you?" Not having a good answer to that question, I blocked her view by putting the book back and scurried off to the counter to get my sandwich.

The sandwich was quite tasty. I found it very pleasant, especially considering that the sandwich had little in common with raccoons, gin, asparagus or human heads.

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Bummer. Sort of.

The restaurant next door is sold out of chocolate cheese for the season.

I guess I am not meant to experience it this year.

Like I was going to buy it anyway.