Monday, April 5, 2010

Date Night and Super Tasting

Monday again darlings, and while I drink coffee and recover from a dark-chocolate and ham-with-glaze hangover, I'll regale you with my first Date Night in about a trillionty thousand light years. Or, as I call it, last Friday night.

You might think that since we have Sassy (all almost-20-years-old of her) living in our basement bedroom that we would be tripping over date nights. You would also be highly wrong. As anyone who was ever 20 knows, if you're in school you're doing school stuff and when you're not doing school stuff you're working and if you're not doing EITHER of those things, you're spending time with other kidsters your age doing whatever you do when not in school and not working. Whew. That was a bit of a run-on, no? You get the idea. Arranging for Sassy to be here at the same time we're NOT is sort of akin to scheduling a shuttle launch. One tiny thing goes wrong, and it's all Houston we have a problem.

So, the planets aligned, we achieved maximum rocket thrust (to stick with my NASA theme) and we left the house! Wooooooo!

Uh. What do we do now?

Mexico? We didn't pack and I'm not wearing these shoes when I'm fleeing as a parental fugitive.

Tattoo parlor? Good idea, but they book up early.

Um. Dinner it is!

The Man was driving, and before we knew it, he'd headed the same way he takes to work. Weird.

"It's like I'm programmed to go to the office."

"That's sort of creepy."

So where do we eat? Well, first we tried a trendy little martini bar/restaurant. I'm sure that around 11 pm it would be very cool, what with its funky art deco chairs that made me feel like a giant in a doll house. At 6 pm though? Not cool. The martini? Not that good. Then again, I like my drinks with liberal amounts of ice and whipped cream. If I even suspect I can taste any sort of liquor = vomit. Gross. (I would be a TERRIBLE alcoholic. And that's really helpful for not being one I suppose.)

"Dude. They have half off sushi. Do YOU want sushi?"

"I'll just get pasta."

"Do you WANT pasta?"

"No."

"They only have THREE salads and they're weird. I don't want a salad here. Let's go."

(PS, In the Sammo world of restaurantyness, Weird Salads are NOT good. FYI: Fruit does NOT go on regular salads. It's why they have their OWN category, i.e., the FRUIT SALAD. Oranges/grapes/strawberries all up in my head lettuce make me violent. At your own risk, restaurants, you've been warned.)

So we paid for The Man's triple-rasperry-fruit-ini and headed off to another place. Preferably somewhere that had a menu with NON-fruity salads and a conspicuous lack of sushi.

Done and done. We found a place; The Man got a burger, I got the yummiest yummy salad involving vinaigrette and blue cheese and tomatoes.

"Here, have a bite of my burger. It's awesome. It's WAY better than Cheeseburger in Paradise."

"Whatever. I love that place. It's like a vacation!"

"Whatever. Have a bite."

"Oh, that's good.....Aghhhhh! What the hell! OH MY GOD that wasn't a pickle was IT????"

"Oh. Shit. No, that was a jalenpeno."

"AGGHHHHH! I can't feel my MOUTH! ASS!"

*still chewing and smirking* "Drink something"

"I AM! Ice tea doesn't put out the FIRE in my MOUTH!"

I'd like to take the opportunity to explain the theory of Super Tasters. Go ahead, click on the link if you want. See, a super taster tastes things more intensely than most people. As a child, I refused to eat my peas. Ever. This led to many a stand- off with my dad, who was going to Make Sure We Ate Our Vegetables. How could I eat them, they were full of vile bitter POISON!!!!

And then, one shining day in high school biology, we did an experiment. We tasted little litmus-paper thingies. Most kids tasted nothing. I tasted horrible bitter nastiness! This was proof of some genetic factor that I've since forgotten.

I'm pretty sure it was also proof I am, humbly, a Super Taster. Certain things are overwhelmingly bitter to me. It's also why I don't like the taste of alcohol. Or coffee. I have to beat my coffee into submission with flavored creamer. Any sort of dark green veggie? Not happening. And anything spicy? Fugghedaboutit.

So The Man's hidden jalepeno was really, really horrible. Normal people eat them all the time. That thing electrocuted my tongue with it's spicy flavored torture!

Aaaanyway, our evening concluded uneventfully and after driving past some cars we covet, we took the highway home. Date Night Mission accomplished. No tattoos or Mexican road trips, but that's what happens when you're old and married and people under 4 feet tall control your life. You are grateful to scarf down a salad in peace and talk about something OTHER than Spongebob.

Not that Spongebob isn't awesome. Because he is.

And I'm sure we'll enjoy our next Date Night. In 2014.

Comments, questions, do you super taste?

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