Such a bad boy!

Marc's out of town, due to the death of his aunt. So I was left to my own devices for ways to maintain some semblance of a social life.

I invited a few different friends to come visit. I figured at least one would join me for dinner. If a few arrived, great. They all have met each other before, and a good time would be had by all.

Well, everyone (and you know who you are!) blew me off. It's okay, really. All three had already planned things to do, and I certainly understand that.

So I wound up having dinner with an old friend, his wife and their young son. We went to P.F. Chang's. Even though we got there at 5pm, it was already packed. The seating wench (I think that's the official title) said there would be a 20 minute wait.

Fast-forward 35 minutes, and my old friend's wife is getting mighty pissed. There's a table for four that has been sitting open for several minutes, right near us. Even so, when we ask for an update, the seating wench says it will be another 15 minutes before they can seat us.

That did it. OF's wife went over, sat down and told us to "get over here and sit down! Quick!" So we did, and Steve (my old friend) hid the pager thingie they give you when they tell you to wait.

A waiter and busboy quickly arrived and gave us drinks and noodles. We placed our orders, and no one ever said a word. I, however, Mister By-the-book, felt like a felon. I was waiting for the police to rush in and arrest us! :)

Oh, and when did the pager finally go off? About 50 minutes after we got there. We were well into the appetizers by then. It's silent--just vibrates--so Steve kept it hidden. I asked if he was enjoying it, as it was out of sight, but he swears it was just tucked under his leg. ;)

From a dietary point of view, I was a bad boy, too. P.F. Chang's isn't exactly on my diet. Then, to add to my misdeeds, I grabbed dessert before heading home. Next door to Chang's is a Cold Stone Creamery. I'd never been in there, so I decided to give it a try.

I ordered Chocolate something-or-other. With that, the young lady helping me took out chocolate ice cream from the case and mixed in other ingredients by hand. Apparently, that's how they do things there.

So I took it home and had some. Not bad. Not the best I've ever had, but not bad.

Oh, I also brought home some of my P.F. Chang's food. When I walked through the door, the dogs had their snouts right on the bag. I told them, "this isn't for you."

With that, Dodger stood high, put his front paws on his hips (or the doggie equivalent thereof) and said, "excuse me, Mister Man, but what kind of bag is that food in? A people bag? I don't think so. It's a doggie bag, and I'm a doggie, so fork it over!"

He had a point, so I split my leftover chicken fried rice between the three of them...and a good time was had by all! :)