I was willing to let it slide when you kept asking if HA was my son. I am less than one year older than is, so you know, thanks for that. He looks young and carries a Doctor Who lunch box, so OK. I took agin' you because if it, but HA insisted that you're old and probably can't see well.
But today when you stopped me when I was trying to leave the building to tell me that I "have to go on a diet," that was a little, shall we say, rude. And standing so that if I let go of the big, heavy front door to escape, the door would smack into you and probably knock you over because I know you can't open it yourself? Well, that was just obnoxious because I'm just not the sort of person to knock over a little old lady. Too bad you felt the need to punish my basic human decency with long explanations of how everyone has to diet and how your brother overeats and other stuff about which I truly do not give a shit. You only stopped when I told you that "the size of my ass is none of your business."*
You don't know me, you don't know my family history, my medical history or, apparently, that there isn't an woman in America (underweight, average, overweight or obese) who hasn't been on a diet. You don't even know if I am on a diet, which I'm not because I've decided to stop torturing myself and put my energy into activities that are likely to get results, but if I were on a diet, your little advice would've had me soothing my hurt feelings with some potato chips, so well done, there.
Sorry for upsetting you by being fat in front of you, but I'd rather be fat, than insulting, so, there ya go.
*I asked my friend Judy for a more polite response and she came up with a shocked, "you think I'm overweight? My doctor says I'm fine." which is guaranteed to embarrass the Hell out of the Buttinski. Old Lady's English isn't good enough for that one, but I'll keep it in mind for future encounters with concern trolls.
To restaurants that offer Restaurant Week menus that don't include side dishes, so that people have to order sides for the whole table at a cost of over $10, and the $35 a person meal turns out to be $70 a head when you add in tax and tip,
We're on to you. And although I ate up every bit of that 10 oz. filet mignon, you really could've given me, say, 8 ounces of meat, or even 6, and then thrown some potatoes and spinach on the plate and included that in the prix fixe. Because, you know, a prix fixe is supposed to be a full meal and all.
This is the second restaurant in 2 weeks that has pulled that and both times, I brought home leftovers. This is a budget event kind of thing. Stick to the spirit of the thing, will ya?
(And a hearty thanks to all the restaurants who made their Restaurant Week menus available online. I had Midwestern in-laws to feed and beef carpacio would not have cut it, so thanks for the heads up there.)
To the bird that's been hanging out on my fire escape and bird-screaming at someone or something,
Chill out, there, bird. I'm just sayin'.