I was in the mood for Chinese food lastnight. I used to have a "regular" place I ordered from when I lived alone, then one day I found a hair in my food, and well, I decided not to eat there again. I know it's just one hair and sometimes those things happen, but the paranoia that followed with each bite just wasn't worth it.
So now we're married and we found a new "regular" place. I called to place our order and I couldn't get past how awful the woman on the phone sounded. She was obviously very sick, and all I could think about was how tiny this restaurant is, and how on earth can she avoid getting her germs all over my food (remember...I've got a serious germ-thing). After hanging up the phone I started to worry. She did sound awful. Really awful. I called back and told her to cancel my order.
Hearing me on the phone...
RD: Why'd you cancel?
Me: They can't deliver for another half hour or so, so I'm calling Webster Wok. This wasn't a lie - they couldn't deliver for a half hour or so and we really weren't in a hurry, but it worked as a great excuse. This is the "hair place," but I did love their food -AND- it was just one hair; I mean, these things happen, right?
The food comes and I quickly feed the kids so we can sit down to eat. I didn't have two bites in when RD says, "I can't eat this," and plops his plate down in front of me. Right on top of his heaping mound of Beef Lo Mein was a very long, very brown, (did I mention) looong (?) hair.
Seriously? You're telling me I stopped ordering from this place over FOUR YEARS AGO because I found a hair in my food and the first time we try it again there's a BIG FRIGGIN' HAIR?! You've got to me kidding me!
I've got to give thanks to RD. Before we married, I was the one who always found crap in my food. Either it was overcooked, undercooked, had a hair in it, maybe a bug; whatever the problem, it was ALWAYS me. Now that we're married, RD has taken over that role. If there's something to be wrong with the food, it's his.
Me: Did it touch your tongue?
RD: No, I saw it in time. It (Beef Lo Mein) was good, too. Long pause. Damn it.
Me: Let's order a pizza.
RD: Huh?
Me: Let's order a pizza.
RD: Your's is still good; eat it.
Me: No. I don't think I can. Let's order a pizza.
RD: I'm just going to eat the other half. Pointing to box. If I can.
Me: You can eat that?!
RD: I think so.
Me: Well, I guess if you can eat your's I should eat mine.
Long silence.
Me: Are you going to eat your's?
RD: I guess.
Me: Are you sure?
RD: Yes. Pouting like a child.
So we ate it, but not without close inspection. I guess it serves me right. In fear of sicko sneezing on my Hunan Vegetables, I served my husband hair. That's just great.
