Ahhhhh, Harry Bissett's in Athens, Georgia. God, it's been here since like 1643, but I rarely go there to eat. Kind of expensive and I'm a cheap bastard. Anyway, I finally decided to rate this Classic City restaurant because Sandra said it had been a while since we did anything other than go to the Sea Wench Pub, and then hit The Greasy Dawg for a couple of chili dogs, dragged through the garden, and some Cokes. So I saved up for a few weeks (which means I stopped some long-term subscriptions to some damn fine web sites) and suffered a bit in order to take Sandy out to a decently nice place.
I picked Sandra up at about 6 on Saturday night, complimented her on her dress, told her how much better it would look at the foot of my bed, rubbed my sore cheek, and then drove her to Harry's. She kept trying to switch my CD that I already had playing (Blind Guardian's "A Night at the Opera"... Classic mood setting music) out for Avril Laverne or some shit, and eventually I had to slap her hand and shout, "No! Bad Sandra! No no no! Don't make me roll up a newspaper on you!" She didn't find that funny.
So we parked the car, I opened the door for her (my God am I a gentleman!), and we started the mile hike to Harry Bissett's (from the closest fucking parking space in the county.... Goddamn government bastards, spending all our money on feeding the homeless and not making new parking spaces or killing the strays and the deer that constantly run head first into my tires!). Neither of us minded the walk too much, as I then got the chance to tell Sandy about all the things in the world that make me sick... Well, not ALL the things. As I said it was only a mile walk. We got to the restaurant at about 6:30, and had to wait a while despite the fact that I actually had on a fucking tie. I mean, Christ, that was a once a year event for me, and these fups were making me feel like I was a normal townie. I only stabbed one of the hostesses in her back with about 15 toothpicks when Sandra stopped me and asked me to try and make this night more memorable than just being another night I get thrown into jail for indecency or punching a waiter in the back of the head. I assured her I would make it memorable, and then I winked and pointed to the visible ring in my chest pocket. She sighed to let me know that I "was in," and then we got seated.
We got a table on the second story (the stairs up to there really suck... I only had 6 drinks before the whole night began and I had trouble climbing them. I fell like 3 times, and Sandy and the hostess kept laughing each time.... It wasn't funny, dammit!) right by the window, so that we could look out at all the early evening drunks tripping and puking all over the sidewalk. Charming. Sandra took the time to look at the menu, but I kept trying to set mine on fire over the candle in the middle of the table. It's a habit I'm trying to break, but as long as the cops never pin anything on me, I figure I'm golden. So anyway, I started playing footsy with Sandra when the waitress came by to take our orders, but then Sandy stopped playing when she started to try and make up her mind on what to order. So then I started playing footsy with our waitress (she was really cute herself, and she didn't seem to mind so much.. She even pretended to drop a sugar packet on my lap and then took about 40 seconds to "find it"). After Kristen left (Kristen being the name I gave our cutie pie waitress with the nice, firm butt), Sandy started talking... And talking.... And taaaaaaaaaaaalking. I was able to make about 4 origami cranes and one sailor's hat from my napkin in the time it took her to get from what she did that morning to right before I picked her up. Then she even began recapping the ride over to Harry's. That's when I raised my hand and said, "Um, yeah, excuse me... I was there. I seem to remember it all pretty clearly, and you even left out the parts where you really annoyed the fuck out of me by fucking with my CD player. No offense or anything though." Despite me explaining that I meant "no offense," she still took some. Then she began pouting. Jesus... When Sandy pouts she has to let the whole fucking room know about it. I'm just... She sometimes...... *Sigh*.... Thank God she's got a gorgeous rack.
Anyway, so the meal came, Kristen dropped five more things on my lap, and then I had to meet her in... I mean I had to go to the bathroom. When I came back I actually found Sandy stealing some grub from my plate. "Just a taste" my ass! More than half of what I had left was gone! After calling her "Jabba" and "harlot" the china and silverware started flying, then the hair-grabbing began in full fury. That bitch can rake a person's face with the best of them too. During the whole "rumble," as Sandy and I backed into and then got tossed onto, the other tables around us, I did get to sample a bunch of other dishes, and I got some dessert too. Which was a good thing because I wasn't about to buy that cow anything sweet after all the punches to my face (which went against my number one rule that I state up front for any girl whom I date: Not in the face). Soon we started to wind down as we both had to catch our breath, and I started to ask if she'd still like to come back to my place for a little hanky panky... But then I felt my empty pocket and remembered that a certain something that I had to use just a little while earlier was gone, and I told her, "You know what, don't worry about it." I'm going out with Kristen next Friday, so I stopped at CVS on the way home for early preparations.
I didn't get to read what the Rossman wrote about Harry Bissett's yet, but I myself had a good meal there. There was plenty of leg room under the table for which to get intimate, and the candlelight was very romantic. I think the Rossman had a bad food allergy that he contracted that night though, as halfway through the meal he started claiming that the stars were coming to eat his spleen, and his throat started to get all red and a bit swollen. I told him to go to the bathroom to clean himself up, but when he came back he had a condom blown up like a balloon over his skull, just like Howie Mandell.... It was... odd to say the least.
After that he tried to sample a bunch of the other dinner guests' food, and it took some wrestlin' to get him back in his chair, but then he cuddled up in my lap and called me mommy as I rocked him to sleep. It was kind of cute, but also kind of disturbing. As I drove him home he just kept giggling about how he was going to take me out and show me an even better time this Friday. Honestly, I don't know how he'll top our night at Harry's.
I do wonder how he knew my middle name was Kristen though. I don't think I ever told him that.
Goddammit! How the hell did I miss this show?! My friend, Wanda, works down the street at the Mellow Mushroom and even she heard the commotion the Rossman caused on his date. Grrrrrrrrrrrr! If anyone has pictures of him making a total ass of himself (more so than normal I mean), please let me buy them off of you! I heard he even stabbed himself 7 times with a butter knife in order to "get the leaches out." Why did I have to be at the hospital watching my niece get born?!!?! Dammit!