So the old lady's friend M came over tonight to watch "The Office," 'cuz her hubby, R, is on the road. Since we still have no fucking kitchen, we decided to order some food from this bbq place in town that actually has a surprisingly edible bbq chicken sammitch. While the old lady was picking up said sammitches, I had the aneurysm-producing task of a-wranglin' both kids up and getting them to bed. Fucking nightmare. I've said it before, but I'd pay top-dollar to get a some sort of nanny in here whose sole job would be to put the kids to bed. I don't know why but it's the most painful goddamn time of the day and I have zero tolerance for their pre-bed bullshizzle. I'd rather have my nipples sliced off with piano wire. I'm accepting applications now... for the nanny position, not for the slicing off of the nipples.
Okay, back to the sammitches. So I finally come downstairs and the old lady and her pal are stuffing their face-holes with bbq, while my order sits in its silvery heat-preserving paper sheath, a-beckoning. I grab the steaming tube, unsheath it and get ready to annihilate it when I notice that the meat, rather than being whitish and chicken-y, looks strangely brown and beefy. Motherfucker. The morons at "Backyard BBQ: Where the 'Q' Stands for 'Moron'," gave us two chickens and a beef instead of three chickens. Sure, it's an easy mistake to make -- "I'll have three bbq chicken sandwiches please!" sounds almost exactly like "I'll have two bbq chicken sandwiches and one COW sandwich, you fucking imbeciles!"
Of course I couldn't eat it because, as Mr. Z likes to tell all waitstaff, "We don't eat mammals!" So I dumped it in the trash and ate a bowl of goddamn Honey Nut Cheerios. I'm telling you, this town is going to kill me one of these days. Their motto should be "Our food sucks, and there's nothing to do here, but at least the service is fucking horrendous." How can people settle for this level of mediocrity? It's hopeless. I'm just gonna drive on over to the Cracker Barrel, walk in, lie naked on a table and have a wait-person pour melted Velveeta and popcorn shrimp down my gullet until my ass explodes.
I give up.