My friend Vanessa recommended I go to Dick’s Last Resort. I think I’ve been there once before, but that was back when I had blonde hair (aka was a prude).
I thought I could hold my own this time, and maybe not blush down to my toes.
You see, the wait staff are jerks. People seriously pay to be made fun of. You have to wear this diaper hat that says offensive things on it too. And normally it’s a blast (if you’re with the right people)…but I was still sick. And after two days of “lame” activities,” I forced myself to keep this date.
You know when you realize half-way through a joke that you’re telling it wrong, but it’s too late to stop, so you just keep plowing ahead, knowing the punch line is going to be filled with your uncomfortable laugh, or if you’re like me, an awkward noise? Yeah, somehow accept that as an explanation to how I felt all night. Like I was telling a bad joke.
And my hearing was still all weird from “the illness,” so I couldn’t hear half of the insults. I just kept an offended frown on my face, you know, so the wait staff felt comfortable.
At Dick’s Last Resort.
A restaurant where they are paid to be ass holes.