Fit For A King, Part I

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Now, today's story...

One of the things I love about hanging out with Liz and Cortney is their uncanny ability to turn a silly situation into an acrimonious one. If nothing else, it's the entertainment value.

The three of us decided that, since we hadn't gotten together since bowling, Friday would be a good day for lunch. At Burger King. Mind you, this is no more than a day after I watched Super Size Me for the sixth time.

Obviously that gives you a clue I didn't choose the destination, nor did I object. I was in enough trouble as it was what with my disagreeable nature and all. Ask them. So there we were. At Burger King.

They wanted to try these new chicken fries. Or something. Personally, I'm partial to the Tendercrisp when faced with a fast food decision.

I realize at this point I haven't done much to prepare you. But let me just preface the rest of this post by saying that I did nothing more than play the part of the reluctant observer. Making my view hopefully that much more objective. We'll see what happens.

I ordered first because, well, you know Liz and Cortney. And if you don't you can just pretend. Even though they knew exactly what they wanted (the aforementioned chicken fries), they still needed extra time to — I don't know. Doesn't really matter.

The girl at the counter took my order and I took my cup and poured a drink. Then back to the counter to wait on my food. It's ready and I remember I need ketchup, only it's gonna be a minute because this girl is a little tied up with Cortney and Liz's orders.

First thing, she asks them if they minded their orders on the same tray. Obviously they were together and this seems simple enough to understand since the tables in the restaurant aren't exactly large. Ironic, since you'd figure The BK wants to squeeze in as many oversized individuals as possible. (Try not to take offense to the retarded things I write.)

The point of the previous paragraph wherein I got a little off track was that neither of them spoke up. They simply nodded/did nothing in agreement with French Fry Girl's idea.

But FFG isn't exactly a regular on the figure skating circuit so, naturally, her axle needs a little work. As she turned, one of the two cups of fries tipped over on the tray spilling onto the floor. Oops. No big deal. She grabbed a new cup of fries, put it on the tray then added more fries to the tipped cup — more total fries than any two humans could safely eat.

It was at that point I noticed the grimace on Liz's face. And we're off to the races. Cortney and Liz head out to find a table while I ask FFG for some ketchup. She handed me about two dozen so left about 20 on the counter. Who needs 24 ketchup packets for a medium french fry? I'd be shocked to discover there were 24 fries in that cup. No complaints, just saying.

While I sifted through the sea of ketchup packets, FFG laughs to her friend, "It was either those or the ones on the floor," obviously having noticed Liz's less-than-pleased expression. To myself I laughed at her joke. Who wouldn't? It was funny. It sounded like something I'd say. (Not to imply that I think I'm funny or anything.)

At that point I walked back to the table to find that Liz and Cortney steaming. Apparently, French Fry Girl had really pushed some buttons. But if you want to know about that, consult tomorrow's post. I feel I've done enough typing for one night.

And you've done enough reading.

Slowly But Surely: Remember that Post Office job I'm pretty sure I've been talking about for almost three months now? Phase II finally goes forward tomorrow. The typing test. It should be a breeze, much like the written exam. And damn if it isn't right smack in the middle of the 2005 NHL Draft. More on that in the hockey blog.