We are sorority sisters and have been close since college. We share a love of food, farts, and all things hilarious. When we get together we manage to get dumber and together we have the collective IQ of a barn mouse (or that of any Jersey Shore cast member).
Apart, we are both quite intelligent, but seeing us together laughing as milk comes out of our noses, you would never know it. We somehow manage to laugh at anything and everything and usually cause a scene, most likely because we snort from laughter or we spill something…or both.
I was excited about our get together tonight because I hadn’t seen her for a few weeks, which to us, is a lifetime. We agreed we would meet for dinner, but wanted somewhere with a good menu, as DTCB and I like to eat.
No, we love to eat. Our love of food is one of the things that makes our friendship so strong. It’s a bond based upon burritos, and to me, there is no stronger friendship.
We (shamefully) agreed to meet at Chili’s. This decision was based upon their large selection of appetizers, entrees and desserts. It was a calculated decision and one we didn’t take lightly. We were serious about dinner decisions.
DTCB arrived at the “restaurant” before I did, which is rare, as I swear that woman can’t tell time. (And can we really call a place that has plastic cups a restaurant? I think not.)
As soon as she arrived she grabbed a booth and texted me to let me know we were placed in the booth closest to the restroom.
Normally I would be offended by such placement near the lavatory, but I knew that we were going to binge on nearly everything on the menu, so placement by the bathroom was actually a smart move by the hostess.
She obviously remembered us from the “buffalo chicken dip of 2010 incident”, which DTCB and I still don’t discuss. It was a rough time, and an even rougher time for the cleaning crew of that restroom. But I digress….
After processing our coordinates, I texted to let her know I was on my way and to order an appetizer. If possible, whenever I arrive anywhere I like to be greeted with food of some kind. Whether it be a granola bar or a mint, I like to say hello with something in my mouth. DTCB obliged and immediately ordered bottomless chips and salsa…with a side of Ranch dressing.
It’s another reason I love her. I like to put Ranch dressing on most things, but never thought to put Ranch on my chips and salsa. But DTCB’s dedication to increased caloric intake for our dinner was not only ingenious, it was inspiring. I decided I would try it once I arrived.
I made it to the restaurant before the appetizer and tried to mask my disappointment by downing the iced tea waiting for me.
DTCB and I engaged in informal pleasantries, all the while eyeing another table’s queso dip. The smell of melted cheese was intoxicating as we waited for our heart attack in a festive bowl.
The chips, salsa and Ranch arrived, and I wasn’t disappointed. DTCB may not know much about reading directions, or how to properly obey a stop sign, but she knows a good appetizer.
We began inhaling chips and practically bit the waitress’s hand off when she placed them on the table. We looked like two starving orhpans who hadn’t seen food in days, instead of two women who just snacked on peanut butter prior to the dinner.
Well, maybe that was just me.
After gobbling the appetizer in 30 seconds flat, we realized the waitress was still standing there staring at us, most likely too shocked and horrified to move. We looked up to see a skinny woman named Heidi who didn’t understand the discomfort of a fat roll hanging over her jeans.
She seemed flabbergasted by our behavior, so I informed her that we used to be thin, as if that fact made our ingestion of a half pound of salsa somewhat more acceptable. She looked at us quizzically, not believing our previous single digit sizes.
However, Heidi was smart enough to know she needed to get a good tip from us, hopefully to pay for a hairdresser to address her black roots. She told us she was gaining weight and was “only 21 and already getting fat.” Seriously?!
I told her until she started purchasing pants based upon the elasticity of the waistband, I didn’t want to hear her complaints. DTCB was too busy stuffing her face with salsa and Ranch to chime in, but she nodded in agreement.
We turned to the dessert menu, complete with photos of the decadent treats that are most likely pre-baked in a factory in South Dakota approximately 3 months before they’re shipped to Chili’s.
We didn’t care, because the molten chocolate lava cake is delicious. We agreed on dessert. With that critical decision made, we turned our focus to the far less important decision: the main course.
I snacked on Ranch and salsa chips as I looked over the options, my eyes drawn to the photos of the delicious options. A menu with pictures of food is like a fat person’s version of porn, and I was in heaven.
From nachos to burgers, the photos were amazing, and I found myself drooling over the options.
Luckily, Heidi made the correct assessment that we were messy eaters and took the precautionary measure of providing us with extra napkins. I wiped the drool off my laminated menu and decided to make a healthy choice and get a salad.
Naturally, to reward myself for ordering a salad, I had it covered in buffalo chicken. Heidi read back my order as “buff chicken,” making it sounds like the chicken was in a weight lifting contest.
I could imagine my chicken oiled up in Vaseline, wearing a man-thong, posing for the judges with his veins popping out of his neck and thighs. Was it really that hard to say “buffalo?” Was cutting off the “alo” that much easier? Did it really save that much time?
DTCB followed my healthy example and ordered soup and salad. We also ordered another basket of chips, salsa and Ranch, as the only thing left of the first basket was a pile of salt and the remainder of our dignity.
DTCB and I chit chatted in between gulps of food, all the while watching out of the corner of our eyes every time someone emerged from the kitchen with food.
When the main course arrived, we jumped for joy, although with a belly full of chips, all we could muster was a solid fist pump. Heidi asked if she could take the chips out of our way. She nearly got a punch in the face from DTCB for that. Heidi made the good decision to leave the chips for further snacking.
We ate our salads, thinking about dessert. When Heidi returned to remove our plates, she didn’t even ask if we wanted dessert. Judging by the food wasteland on our table, she knew she didn’t have to sell dessert to us, so she simply asked us what we wanted for dessert.
We told her the chocolate lava cake was calling our name (although it actually could have been our subconscious calling our names, urging us not to eat another day’s worth of calories in 2 bites).
We sat back, unbuttoned our pants, and waited for the glorious dessert to arrive. We chose to ignore the judgmental stares from the woman in the booth across from ours who weighed approximately 90 pounds and was most likely preparing to purge.
The lava cake arrived and we immediately went to town, annihilating the dessert. In just a few short bites we destroyed the dessert and practically licked the plate clean (the only reason we didn’t is because we couldn’t decide who should get the privilege).
Shortly after we devoured dessert, we realized we were painfully uncomfortable and needed to get home quickly. We both left Heidi a good tip, not so much for her great service but for the hope we could buy her silence about our night of gluttony.
We waddled to our cars in silence. We set a date (and a menu) for another time, said goodbye, and plopped into our cars.
As I struggled to move the steering wheel without striking my protruding belly, I was reminded that tonight is what life is all about….friends and laughter…and a side of Ranch.