My awesome bud, The Crayon Wrangler, is having a contest...write a funny story involving restaurants, and you can win a prize!!
Here's my gig:
So, the Mr. and I were on a date. A nice, romantic, pre-children era date.
(You know the ones...where you didn't have to leave a phone number or be back by a certain time? Yup...that's what I'm talkin' 'bout!)
We decide to hit the oft fave, Timberlodge (*sniff, snuffle, sob* it's no longer in business...) for a yummy steak supper.
*flashback* Ahhhh...those were the days. Late meals, leisurely time, no worries, no sharing salads or cutting up meat or breaking up fights... *end of flashback*
Our meals come...and, I'm getting ready to eat.
Grab ketchup (aside by me...I can't remember for the life of me, what on earth I would've ordered to use ketchup on at a steakhouse?! Guess my palate has matured...)...give it a hearty shake ("shake it, shake, shake it...shake it, shake, shake it...shake it like a Polaroid picha'")...wait...wait, what's that...shake...shake...hmmmm...what the heck is that wet stuff I feel...why is the table behind me screeching...
OHMIGOSH!!! The lid came off the ketchup!!!
So, apparently, whomever used the ketchup last, had neglected to fully replace the lid.
I'm sort of convinced it was a "Candid Camera" clip that never made it anywhere!
But the ketchup?
It made it everywhere...
My hair, my shirt, my plate, the floor...thankfully, it missed the table behind us.
I don't ever shake my ketchup anymore without first testing the lid.
You live and learn!