GOOD KARMA

Kelly and I ate at Reginelli's on Tuesday night in Elmwood. When we got the bill, I remembered I had been wanting to visit the location for a few weeks now. Not for dinner but to right a wrong while also helping out the restaurant. 

In my church bulletin, Reginelli's advertises on the back page, saying that the joint is located right across the street from the Cocoa-Cola plant. I told our lovely waitress Jessica about the mistake. 

Kelly told me I was crazy for even bringing it up and that they would be talking about me at the restaurant for the rest of the night. You think I cared? I'm tired of staring at the error every week. It drives me mad and makes me crazy. Wait. Switch that.  

To her credit, Jessica laughed at the notion of a Cocoa-Cola company. She then told her manager. So, any week now, this egregious snafu will be corrected. I'm giddy for Mass. 

Do good things, good things happen. I looked at my bank statement today, and the Reginelli's transaction had already gone through. Except that the amount taken out didn't include the tip I wrote in. Either they really appreciated my tidbit about their ad or Jessica had the hots for me. 

OK, so she probably just typed in the amount incorrectly. Whatever. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom and I discuss the possibility of a Waffle House in our town. "Fucking Harahan cops would be wanting their free fucking breakfast."

We go to Coldstone Creamery for mom to get some fat free ice cream. "Lady on the phone made it seem like they had this big selection. Ha. Fucking two items." 

On the way home, we pass by a house on our street with really high grass. "Cut your fucking grass, man. If I lived next to you, I'd have had the fucking county on your ass. I ain't livin' next to that shit. Have fucking City Hall on 'em." (County? What state are we in?)