Four Stars, My Ass!!

If you’ll recall, the Boo and I had our weekly date night on Saturday evening. (If not, why haven’t you been religiously reading my blogs and keeping up with every insignificant detail of my life? Moron. JK. JK.)

While date night is always fun (for all of the sappy, mushy gushy, gag reflex inducing reasons that I’m with my Boo and I love spending time with him, blah bl blah bl BARF) Saturday night veered more out of the norm from what we’re accustomed to.

We made reservations at a place called Landry’s. It’s located on the water, the menu looked great, the restaurant review websites gave it great recommendations so we thought we’d give it a shot. This same lying whore of a website also told us that reservations were “highly recommended and suggested” (ughh…redundant, much?). So whatever, we made reservations for 7:00. Prime dinner eatin’ time on a Saturday night, right? WRONG.

We arrive at the restaurant and hot damn, what’s this? The parking lot is a ghost town. (Umm…are we at the right place?) The lot is barely littered with a few cars but it seems to extend around to the back so I figure there’s probably a whole bunch more back there. I’m sure it’ll be great.

Let me say this, when you walk into a restaurant and the place is so dead two hostesses and a front of house manager all clamor towards you, practically yelling “WELCOME” all at the same time over one another, whilst scrambling to all seat you at once just so they can have something to do…not such a good sign.

Neither was the fact that parts of the place looked vaguely reminiscent of a Picadilly cafeteria. (And yes, Dad, there is something wrong with that.)

Needless to say, we felt like a bunch of tools making a reservation at a place that clearly didn’t require one. We sat down and hurriedly scanned our eyes down the menu. Drinks. We need drinks. Pronto.

After this things got a little better. Our server was obnoxious as all hell (and I’m pretty sure had some type of raging Rosatia going on that night) but he brought me glass after glass of Pinot Noir so I can’t hate on the man too much. The conversation was lovely (as always), the food was mediocre but the price sure as hell wasn’t. $168.00 later we were out of there, unimpressed and a little annoyed.

Being classy as we are we decided to stop by Total Wine and pick up a bottle (or two) of champagne to sip at the house. We’re not inside the store for more than 5 minutes when we come back out to the Boo’s car and realize HOLY SHIT!!! SOMEONE TRIED TO STEAL THE CAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When the Boo went to place his key in the ignition to head home he realized a strange and mysterious black band hanging down from the top of the key hole thingy. (I know, I know. Bear with me.) “What the eff is that?” I asked confused.

We flipped on the inside light and examined the damage. There was some very obvious scratching and ripping of the leather where you could tell someone had taken a screwdriver to it and tried to pry it open. When I asked “Why?”, the Boo informed me that if you were to pop off the small square covering surrounding the key hole thingy then you could access the ignition pin from there and start it manually. Don’t ask me why he knows this. He just does.

So naturally, I’m appalled and furious. My drunken brain is wracking itself trying to figure out how the thief one, got in when the alarm was set and two, got away so fast without us noticing. Then we realize that it was dark when we left for the restaurant earlier and we hadn’t even bothered to look at it till now.

What’s worse is that earlier in the day when I went to check the mail, I noticed our lovely, stereotype perpetuating neighbors all spread throughout the parking lot, on the sidewalk, and 2 by their car (which was, at the time, parked directly next to the Boo’s). And when they saw me coming back from the mailbox, the Mother Hen called out to the others near the car and by the time I was up to the house, they had left.

Hmm…suspicious.

I’m beyond convinced these assholes not only ruined my inauguration day but are now trying to steal the Boo’s car for some crusty back alley chop shop.

The Boo’s only gripe? That they weren’t successful in stealing his car so he could collect the insurance and just get a new one already. Typical.