Lobsters are cute right? Well..kinda.
I guess I should start from the beginning. Greg decided to take me to a restaurant in downtown Cleveland, called Morton's. Real fancy shamancy type restaurant. We walk in, and Greg tells them reservation for Greg Stone, and immediately she says "Happy Birthday Becki". Now I should also say on the way there I asked Greg if they were going to sing or make me put on a stupid hat..because I'm so not into public embarrassment. Greg said no. So when they said Happy Birthday I thought...oh crap. We sit down, and after a bit our waiter comes, again using our names, and wishing me a happy birthday. The menu is printed with "Happy Birthday Becki" on the top. Then it happens. They roll a table over to our table, and on the table is a sample of the meat cuts, the fish cuts, the veggies, and a lobster. Then the lobster moves, and I see it foaming from the gills. Our waiter says "yep it's alive" in a really cheery voice. Like that of a serial killer who has no soul. We had to ask our waiter to move the lobster. I couldn't have his little eyes on me...screaming "save me". I, of course, couldn't order the lobster, so I ordered shrimp, Greg ordered filet. I wonder if he would have ordered the steak if a live cow was there staring at him. Eh..it's Greg. He would have. Through the entire dinner the lobster was watching me. He wanted me to take him home and let him live in our tub. I considered it. Greg said no. I did ask our waiter what the market price of saving a lobster was. I'm pretty sure he thought I was nuts. He then gave me some bs story about how lobsters do not feel pain. I had a blackberry. I googled it from our table. They do feel pain. Which made me even sadder. I wonder what PETA would say.
Having said all that, our dinner was really good. Greg actually closed his eyes when he was chewing his filet. He wanted to savor every bite. At the end, our
waiter comes over with my cheesecake, and lights a candle and sings- quietly- but still sung. Only the tables close to us heard. Our picture was taken. Greg loves the picture because his filet is in it. I should have taken a picture with the lobster- just to give him one last piece of excitement before he was thrown in boiling water. Alive. Ugh.
By the way, I turned 26. Ok. 29. Ok, Ok...33. I feel 25 though. Does that count for something?
I guess I should start from the beginning. Greg decided to take me to a restaurant in downtown Cleveland, called Morton's. Real fancy shamancy type restaurant. We walk in, and Greg tells them reservation for Greg Stone, and immediately she says "Happy Birthday Becki". Now I should also say on the way there I asked Greg if they were going to sing or make me put on a stupid hat..because I'm so not into public embarrassment. Greg said no. So when they said Happy Birthday I thought...oh crap. We sit down, and after a bit our waiter comes, again using our names, and wishing me a happy birthday. The menu is printed with "Happy Birthday Becki" on the top. Then it happens. They roll a table over to our table, and on the table is a sample of the meat cuts, the fish cuts, the veggies, and a lobster. Then the lobster moves, and I see it foaming from the gills. Our waiter says "yep it's alive" in a really cheery voice. Like that of a serial killer who has no soul. We had to ask our waiter to move the lobster. I couldn't have his little eyes on me...screaming "save me". I, of course, couldn't order the lobster, so I ordered shrimp, Greg ordered filet. I wonder if he would have ordered the steak if a live cow was there staring at him. Eh..it's Greg. He would have. Through the entire dinner the lobster was watching me. He wanted me to take him home and let him live in our tub. I considered it. Greg said no. I did ask our waiter what the market price of saving a lobster was. I'm pretty sure he thought I was nuts. He then gave me some bs story about how lobsters do not feel pain. I had a blackberry. I googled it from our table. They do feel pain. Which made me even sadder. I wonder what PETA would say.
Having said all that, our dinner was really good. Greg actually closed his eyes when he was chewing his filet. He wanted to savor every bite. At the end, our
waiter comes over with my cheesecake, and lights a candle and sings- quietly- but still sung. Only the tables close to us heard. Our picture was taken. Greg loves the picture because his filet is in it. I should have taken a picture with the lobster- just to give him one last piece of excitement before he was thrown in boiling water. Alive. Ugh.
By the way, I turned 26. Ok. 29. Ok, Ok...33. I feel 25 though. Does that count for something?
Happy birthday!
ReplyDeleteMe, I'm still 29 and have been for years, though I too feel 25, except first thing in the morning when I feel at least 80 and can barely move. LOL