Put away your hankies – we’re not going to weep on the blog today.
Well, you, Dear Reader, are not going to cry. I, however, am still crying over my shopping experience on Wednesday when I learned the awful truth that Eddie Bauer has apparently not bought into vanity sizing.
That’s the truth I choose to believe.
Since I’ve been fairly worthless this week what with the whole coughing up a lung thing, Mr. CPQ volunteered to take us out to dinner last night. His dinner offer was not completely unconditional as it was issued with a pre-emptive Mexican strike because while he has been sympathetic to my plight, he knows full well that I would shamelessly use my weakened state to my complete advantage.
My love for the taquito knows no bounds.
He looked through the coupon book we’d received in the mail, and when I saw the gleam in his eye, I knew there was only one place it could be.
His love for the strip mall Chinese buffet knows no bounds.
Nothing says “fine dining” like patrolling security guards and a gold velour track suit.
Craig thought this one was five times better than the other ones he’s tried, which on the one hand frightened me and on the other hand released a lot of self-imposed pressure on what constitutes a quality meal at dinnertime at my house.
The boys also gave it two thumbs up, but I think it had nothing to do with the food and everything to do with the quarter they filched out of the koi pond to buy a gumball.
Have a nice day.