Yesterday my parents babysat the Paladin, so Holly and I went out to dinner at her favorite restaurant, P.F. Chang's (the conversation went like this: "How does Chinese sound?" "Pei-wei sucks, they have lettuce wraps, but only chicken." "So? Let's hop on a bus and go to PF Chang's").
The bus driver on the way down was named Timmy. This wouldn't have been a big deal, except that she was a girl. What on earth could Timmy possibly be short for? I'm convinced she's sleeping with another driver, and grabbed the wrong shirt (So maybe there's a guy out there wearing a shirt with the name "Mary" or something).
At the restaurant, we got a patio seat, which was really cool. We decided to get dessert. They have these cool little shot glass desserts that are nice and cheap and small enough you can actually eat the dessert without passing out from the sugar rush. The waitress brings them over, and starts displaying them against the concrete pillar thing, but the balance is wrong so one of the glasses goes flying and hits the table. The glass goes one direction, the dessert the other. The glass hits the floor and shatters, and the dessert flies and smacks Holly right in the chest.
Fortunately, they were fake, so she just picked it up and handed it back to the poor horrified server. The manager was glad, because the glass costs about fifty cents, but fake dessert costs upward of $60. Yikes!
But the manager was the same guy who took care of us during the great Valentine's Day Caper. We mentioned this to the server, who mentioned it to him, and he remembered us! So he came by and chatted for a few minutes, promised to "take care of" some of our dinner, and asked us to ask for him next time we came in.
He comped us over a third of our meal.
His name is Remington. (His younger brother's name is Jackson).