So the girl who works the counter at The Battered Fish knows me...by name. Its a mall food court and she knows me by name. Now granted a while ago, I went all the time, hence the reason I now weigh what I weigh. So I haven't been going there very much...at least I haven't been there in like 3 + weeks. So I go today, cause I'm craving f'ing poutine (more on that later)...and I tell my friend Angela, who I'm there with...if she knows my name I'm never eating here again...so I go up order and usually she asks for your name to write on the receipt, and when your order is ready they call you by name. Well this time, she doesn't ask...VICTORY!!! She has forgotten me, see I say to myself, I don't eat here alot...its just an occassional thing.
So I go eat my very unhealthy lunch, which I know I will regret in about an hour...and I talk with my friends...then its time to go back to work...as I'm walking to the garbage can to throw out my stuff...I look at the receipt...right there in blue, scrolly lettering is my F'ING NAME!! Sure she mispelled it, but most people do...she was off by one letter...the point is she didn't even have to ASK me my name, she already knew it. I was astounded...and then ashamed!! OMG...how many times do I eat at this place...no wonder I weigh what I weigh. Un-f'ing-acceptable. So as I had told my friend Angela...I'm never eating there again. I can't. She knows me by name.
It's just that their fries are so good...lightly salted, home made fries...with gravy and cheese curds...ummm poutine. But so very bad for me, so I'm saying goodbye to poutine, we've been very close...like you're still hanging around my arse and thighs...and I can't get you OFF!!! So goodby dear friend...may you find peace with someone else...preferably some mean thin girls thighs and arse. :)
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