The O'Griswolds and the search for pasta
And so it begins....
"Hi we are 5..." said the part stressed part angry (American) mom.
"Hi I'm 35" said the part waiter part comedian Manuel
"Do you have a table for five then?" I assumed by her pointed tone that she got my joke but just didn't care for it. Pfft....
"Ok then, sorry, I have a table for four left but you could squeeze round it easily enough." The gaggle of small children at her feet obviously were having a negative effect on her so I thought I should drop the humour. Angry mothers care not for the civility of a nice restaurant and will quite happily start a fight at the drop of a menu or bad pun.
"Pizza?"
"Nope"
"So no pasta and no pizza, huh." She said getting very snippy as if all restaurants all over the world serve pasta and pizza.
"Correct no pasta and no pizza. Maybe you could try an Italian restaurant" Isarcastically helpfully suggested.
"Could the chef maybe make us up some pasta and sauce?"
We were pretty busy and whilst the shit hadn't quite hit the fan it was very definitely heading that way. I was pretty damn sure I wasn't going to be the one who pushed said shit into the chefs fan. So the best answer I reasoned was, "No."
"Well why don't you go and ask him?"
I could think of about 20 reasons why I didn't want to go and ask him if he would cook pasta and sauce, the main one being I'm pretty attached to my face and didn't fancy having it ripped off.
"Okay then, you wait here and I'll go do that." Did I fuck. I went out the back and checked the schedule, twice, and wandered slowly back to the door again wearing a sad and disconsolate face.
"Sorry madam it's just not possible tonight as we are far too busy."
"Wow, no pasta and no pizza. It's just that Mary Bridget needs her carbohydrates for her dancing tomorrow. She is in a big competition you know."
"Ah yes I understand. Maybe I could get you a taxi somewhere else?"
"No it's fine they need to walk it's good exercise."
And off they marched in their matching tracksuits with, and I'm not making this up, "TEAM O'FLANNERY" emblazoned on the back. My those kids are gonna grow up damaged and full of hate, not just for mom but for all things Irish too. I should add little Mary Bridget was about 8 years old at the most.
Carbohydrates?
The kid needs a bag of sweets and a movie to watch not a good bloody walk!
"Great....gimme a menu first though. We need pasta, you got pasta?"
"Pasta? No pasta on this menu, sorry"
"Nope"
"So no pasta and no pizza, huh." She said getting very snippy as if all restaurants all over the world serve pasta and pizza.
"Correct no pasta and no pizza. Maybe you could try an Italian restaurant" I
"Could the chef maybe make us up some pasta and sauce?"
We were pretty busy and whilst the shit hadn't quite hit the fan it was very definitely heading that way. I was pretty damn sure I wasn't going to be the one who pushed said shit into the chefs fan. So the best answer I reasoned was, "No."
"Well why don't you go and ask him?"
I could think of about 20 reasons why I didn't want to go and ask him if he would cook pasta and sauce, the main one being I'm pretty attached to my face and didn't fancy having it ripped off.
"Okay then, you wait here and I'll go do that." Did I fuck. I went out the back and checked the schedule, twice, and wandered slowly back to the door again wearing a sad and disconsolate face.
"Sorry madam it's just not possible tonight as we are far too busy."
"Wow, no pasta and no pizza. It's just that Mary Bridget needs her carbohydrates for her dancing tomorrow. She is in a big competition you know."
"Ah yes I understand. Maybe I could get you a taxi somewhere else?"
"No it's fine they need to walk it's good exercise."
And off they marched in their matching tracksuits with, and I'm not making this up, "TEAM O'FLANNERY" emblazoned on the back. My those kids are gonna grow up damaged and full of hate, not just for mom but for all things Irish too. I should add little Mary Bridget was about 8 years old at the most.
Carbohydrates?
The kid needs a bag of sweets and a movie to watch not a good bloody walk!
20 People trying to get Manuel's attention:
I hope they at least came in without the monstrous hair and makeup, Manuel.
Track suits are scary enough.
Medbh: no but the tracksuits trumped the hair......
Manuel... "Sometimes I doubt your commitment to Sparkle Motion"
what kind of restaurant do you work at?
or would that be breaking some, don't-tell-where-they-can-find-you-in-real-life, blog rule?
ed: one quick google search later, hehehehe very good.........
warriorwoman: Somethings cannot be revealed, but we don't do pizza n pasta.....
Apparently hotels all over town are booked out (mostly by Americans). Clearly the hotel chefs didn't read the script either. Still, just thank fuck you don't work at Speranza's.
poor kids. on an international adventure, an opportunity for cultural growth and all that shit and all mom can offer is "eat your fookin' carbs"...
sorry...
that is just sad, sugar. and what's even worse, the whole ugly american shit is still out there perpetuated by the part stressed part angry (American) mom and their ilk...we are fuckin doomed by our own arrogance!
First no sweet and then no pizza or pasta, you are one sour faced cont, I'm boycotting the Pancake hoose until you get some raviolis in .
what can I say? "We" do love our carbs.
And then she'll teach them how to throw them up.
No Savannah, the rest of the world know there are plenty of good normal Americans but in every country you get people that, for the sake of international relations, should never be allowed a passport and passage out of the country. Some people were meant to just stay at home. Especially the people who never use the word please, like this snippy baggage.
You're right, Manuel, the kids need some sugar, E numbers and some Scooby Doo and the mother needs a double vodka tonic. Poor kids, sheesh Louieesh.
Now I understand why you've applied for the cleaning bitch job over on my blog.
I can take you away from all this, Manuel.
bbb: for so many reasons......
daisyfae: it's not fair eh...?
Savannah: didn't wanna say that but....
old k: bwahahahahaha
boxer: [sharp intake of breathe]
sam: let kids be kids!
mj: waht? oh no......
I marvel that you keep a civil tongue in your head what with the dipsticks and aching feet.
Off-topic but could you do an "Ask Manuel" posting soon where we have the opportunity to ask you anything we like?
what r u, some kind o f communist??? those kids need to work and achieve and be burned out and suicidal by age 20. Gees, get your priorities straight Manuel!
My daughter asked if she could learn Irish dancing a few years back. While I'm sure there are classes available that teach the moves and let the children have a bit of fun, when I were a lass, the ould cow teaching me told my mum not to take me back after about 3 classes as I was no good.
I convinced my daughter to do jujitsu instead.
I passed Waterfront Hall on Monday and saw them all bouncing round, as I was taking my kid to the Disney store then McD's.
Competitive mothers. Arghh! Poor kids. What happened to playing hide and seek and telling tales on older siblings? There was none of that treking across the world for a dance when I was a kid, our idea of a treat was a family size bag of maltesers and a Saturday matinee at the cinema.
Calisthenic competitions are big over here, theres nothing better than getting crashed by a team of 25 nine year old girls all dressed like the cast of priscilla wanting toasted sandwiches and hot chocolates NON NOW NOW cos they're on stage in 20 minutes and the mothers are vile and you only have one sandwich press in the cafe and you're there by yourself.
Sounds like a bucket of bread-rolls would've done the job nicely. Or a trough...
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