We were seated by a nice cross-eyed gentleman and our drink orders were taken. We received our drinks and were just about to begin the night's real conversation when it approached us.

Our waitress may have been a muppet, because I did not have to think very hard to imagine her with googly eyes a-la Cookie Monster. We had first noticed her helping the table next to us, laughing heartily and flashing a toothy grin. By toothy, I mean that she only had two or three teeth left. She was slathered in glitter makeup and pink lip gloss, like some sort of circus clown from hell, and as she walked away from our neighbor table, she pointed to us and said, "You're next!" At first we were frightened; perhaps she would emerge from the kitchen with a chainsaw. Eventually we determined she meant she would take our order soon.

Five or ten minutes passed, and we finally saw her again, darting from table to table, presumably searching for crack cocaine. She finally brought our neighbor table drink refills and began to walk away. Before we could catch her attention, she pointed back to the table SHE HAD JUST SERVED and said, "You're next!"

"I thought we were next???" Paul shouted, visibly starving to death. Alas, she staggered away from us as we looked helplessly on. Thankfully, soon thereafter she took our order.

After she brought our food back to us and we inspected it for stray hair, teeth and bits of glitter, we began to eat. We all started to talk, and before long, conversation had quickly eroded from "hello, nice to meet you", to "embarrassing stories about BJ". I retaliated with "Paul's a doofus" stories of my own, and soon Paul and I were just making fun of each other, boring Callie to tears.

Overall, it was a very pleasant evening. Our crackhead waitress made for a lovely icebreaker, and I was able to get Paul home before he could mortify Callie to the point of breaking up with me. Good times.