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For Clog Blog Friday: A peek into my closet!

Last Friday, The Princess and I were beginning to feel a wee bit under the weather. We felt a bit down and didn't feel like cooking dinner. So we decided to use a coupon and went to TGI Fridays. Holy crap, it was like everyone in there was on crack. We had to literally scream at each other across the itty-bitty, sticky table, it was so fucking loud.

Just as we were starting to get super-dooper, smash-someone's-head-on-the-table irritated, the waitress came up and took our drink order. I screamed mine at her, as did The Princess. The waitress then screamed back to see our IDs. ::blink:: Wah? The Princess asked her if she was kidding. Nope, she said, they had to ask for ID for anyone 40 and under. We laughed, pulled out our IDs and gave them to her. The birth dates were so old on them she probably couldn't figure out our ages without an abacus. She just shrugged and handed them back.

Anyway, considering we're on the closer to 50 side of 40, we allowed ourselves to feel giddy for about 2 seconds and then the sinus-splitting noise of the gen-x, y and z'ers around us made us want to head-butt someone again.

What does this have to do with the ridiculous number of Crocs in my closet you ask? Why absolutely nothing, of course! I just wanted to share that with you so you'd know why I will never go into another TGI Fridays again in my life. I can't stand "restaurants" that blare music so loud your teeth hurt and that cram everyone in so close the fire marshal would have a conniption.

I prefer a nice jazz tune playing softly in the background, a well-chilled martini, plenty of elbow room and good conversation with The Princess. A server who knows us by sight is an added bonus.