Friday, July 11, 2014

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom Will Probably Roast For This One

The #1 son came home last evening to help with our internet service changeover. Ding dong, the SPRINT is dead! Which old SPRINT? The wicked SPRINT! Ding dong, the wicked SPRINT is dead!

Long live DISH. At least for 24 months, the length we are locked in for this service.

Because #1 kindly took off work, giving up valuable earnings, in order to make this ship of old fools sail smoothly off into the sea of satellite internet, we took him out to supper. Granted, it was not to some fancy tableclothed restaurant with tiny portions on huge plates, menus in other languages, and snooty waiters wearing cumberbunds. It was a Chinese buffet. Still, #1 was getting a belly full without fighting over his food with the landlord's dog.

Now is the part where Mrs. Hillbilly Mom blasts her uncouthness. Sets herself up for a citizen's arrest by the political correctness police. No, she did not holler, "Why do all Chinese people look alike?" as the #1 son himself had done at the tender age of four, as the Chinese waitress was refilling drinks. Nor did she say, "Hmpf. I haven't seen ONE Chinese person working here tonight," as Farmer H did this very evening.

No. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is a student of her surroundings. She noticed a curious demographic in that little hometown Chinese buffet. Couldn't avoid it, really. It was all around her. On three sides. After the parties involved got up and moved to a discrete distance, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom locked eyes with #1 in the seat across from her, and stated the obvious.

"Wow. Looks like the handicapped really like their Chinese."

The #1 son rolled his eyes. But I saw the corners of his lips turn up against their will. Yes. Perhaps I should have said "the differently-abled." But that's not what they call the parking spaces. And speaking of parking spaces...

"Come on. You know it's true. I'm surprised they could all find parking."

That cracked him. I heard the ol' #1 chuckle. To his credit, he shook his head and said, "You're terrible."

I was only stating the obvious. There was a lady in a regular wheelchair from the table to our right, wheeling herself to the buffet. And another lady with a walker who sat behind us. And the grande dame, the lady in the motorized wheelchair that lifted up and down so she could view and reach the buffet, who sat in front of us.

You'd think there was some kind of Thursday night special going on.

3 comments:

Sioux said...

Monday is Hairy Ears and Nostrils Day.
Tuesday is Transparent White Stretch Pants and Purple Thong Day.
Wednesday is Meth Teeth Day.
Thursday...You've encountered that already.
Friday is Show Your Tats Day.
Saturday is Fake Eyelashes Big Enough to Provide Shade Day.
Sunday is Flip Flops (Toejam Optional) Day.

Now you know...

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
Thank you for the calendar. I assume Show Your Butt-Crack Day is a floating holiday.

Sioux said...

The white stretch pants are so well-worn, they're transparent. What more do you want?