Thursday, 29 October 2009

Dining With Douchebags

J. and I went to a sushi restaurant on Monday night, prior to going our separate ways for the evening, she to a bellydance class and I to a wine tasting.

About halfway through our meal, a couple was seated next to us, and I have to say, while my distaste for kids is well-known, I would have preferred children to these two fucking idiots. I have never sat next to two people of any age who were more badly behaved.

Firstly, what is it about Asian restaurants that turn people into retards? Why does the appearance of two tapered sticks next to a bowl suddenly make everyone think this is a good time to practice the drum parts for Rock Band: Aerosmith? All you can hear is *dingdingdingding*, disjointed and persistent, until you go mad and fantasize about the various ways the chopsticks AND bowls can be inserted into the human body so that only surgery can remove them. Listen, you fucking toolboxes, put them down.

The ditchpigs next to us didn't bang their chopsticks on their bowls, though. That just pisses me off generally. No, these two immediately set about sword-fighting across the table. And these were no tentaive jabs and feints, either; twice the Dillhole Male Douchebag had to get up and go to an unoccupied table to get another chopstick because Twatface Female Douchebag knocked it out of his hand.

And it went on for several minutes, too. At one point, J and I openly stared at them, but they were either oblivious or indifferent. I was on the verge of saying something rude to them (i.e. "Excuse me, Douchebags, but could we leave the audition for The Three Musketeers for later?") when they stopped.

Then she capped off the whole experience by reaching over, grabbing him by both ears and hauling him halfway across the table to plant a kiss (a big noisy one called a "smooch") squarely on his lips.

After this brazen and gratuitous display of heterosexuality, they seemed to settle down, but by that time, we were motioning wildly for the cheque, like Boy Scouts practicing semaphore in a windstorm. I tried to fart near their table as I left, but was unfortunately tapped out.