Bonnie, mom and I went out to lunch yesterday to a great little cafe in Old Town before doing our Mother's Day shopping. (Terry stayed home with a sore shoulder to rest up for the big day.) The lunch was delicious but, for reasons that will become obvious, I promised the waitress I wouldn't name the restaurant.
Our poor waitress was the only waitress there and she was waiting on us and four other tables in one dining room and a party of about forty in the other dining room. She kept apologizing to us and we kept telling her not to worry about it because we weren't in a hurry and it was a beautiful day and, in so many words, we basically didn't give a sh**.
Eventually, we were the only people in the little dining room and the waitress said, "Did you tike the lea?" instead of "Did you like the tea?" (It was raspberry and really good, as was the bread pudding, but I digress.) I said, "I've been doing that all day. I asked mom and Bonnie if they wanted to come to the Ted Romato today instead of the Red Tomato." (That's not the real name of the restaurant, by the way, but, if you know Beaumont restaurants, I probably just gave it away.)
The waitress said, "I have to tell y'all a story. I have a roommate who has small children and I'm not used to watching my language. One day, I told a friend of ours to 'kiss my ass' but realized that I couldn't say that around the kids. So, I regressed forward (brief interruption: she really said regressed forward which I thought was hilarious by itself) and tried to decide what I would tell him the next time he pissed me off. I decided I would tell him to 'kiss my tush' or 'kiss my butt.' However, the next time he made me mad, I instead said, 'Kiss my bush.'"
She didn't mention whether or not she's still allowed to speak around the kids.