In our hunt for a new roommate we've been cruising through a list of possible candidates that have proven time and time again to be less than optimal. So far the best candidate we've had was a girl who seemed like she had her affairs in order: she had a job, could afford rent and bills, had a sense of humor that was compatible with that of the casa; and she was pretty mellow. There was only one catch...she has a 1 year old daughter. Now, I have nothing against children as I am fairly certain that at one point during my illustrious time on the planet, I was a child myself, but bringing a child in the house may be the least appropriate thing we could do for ourselves...and a child. So Dave blew her off after learning of the offspring and chalked her up to memory. Until tonight. We couldn't decide where to go to dinner so we jumped into the car and drove until something shined. We ended up at a place called Q's Bar-B-Que for some pull pork and chicken wings. No more than 6 minutes after sitting down does this girl walk in with her family and her (adorable I might add) daughter. The goddamn waiter puts them right across from our booth so we HAVE to see each other less we all develop astigmatisms in our necks from facing a wall. We eat our entire meal while choking back laughter and embarrassment while her little girl stares at us and waves while spitting food down her shirt. Now I am charged with the excruciating decision of either contacting this girl and talking the whole situation out, or letting it go and remaining douche bag numero uno for the rest of my life.
And you may be asking yourself how on earth she recognized us right? Let's just say it's me; and I never miss and opportunity to plaster a picture of myself on everything digital and/or adhesive.
So that's how dinner goes for people in a small town.
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