Hot call ahead seating action
Yesterday I grabbed dinner with my dad at Mongolian BBQ. They do call ahead seating, so my dad phoned them and said something along the lines of, 'Hi, I'd like to set up some hot call ahead seating action.'
That phrasing threw me off. As soon as he said that, I thought, 'Great, my dad's going to show up and fuck a chair.'
Mongolian BBQ has you fill a bowl with whatever you want, then some dudes stir fry it on a huge communal hot plate. I got two plates while there, each time taking back something I did not originally pick out. Potatoes, noodles, steak. Their motto may as well be, 'Mongolian BBQ: Better hope the guy next to you doesn't pick out weird shit.'
I move out in a week, so I've taken a ton of stuff home. Be back tonight.
(Home.)
I also observed that Mongolian BBQ is quite possibly the worst place to meet women. Firstly, it's a huge date place, and secondly, people end up doing a lot of stuff independently. A woman may finish getting her bowl ready before her husband, leaving her alone in line just long enough for a single man, say, your father, to strike up a conversation, only to have it awkwardly terminated by said husband joining the woman in line.
Another important thing to note about Mongolian BBQ is that the waitstaff, like every restaurant's waitstaff, is totally banging one another. Every griller has slept with every waitress. Every Friday night, after the doors close, all the Mongolian BBQ employees get together and have an orgy in a big pile of raw chicken and baby corn.
Also, chicken and baby corn are my two favorite ingredients at Mongo, so that mental image made me both horny and hungry. Horngry.
That phrasing threw me off. As soon as he said that, I thought, 'Great, my dad's going to show up and fuck a chair.'
Mongolian BBQ has you fill a bowl with whatever you want, then some dudes stir fry it on a huge communal hot plate. I got two plates while there, each time taking back something I did not originally pick out. Potatoes, noodles, steak. Their motto may as well be, 'Mongolian BBQ: Better hope the guy next to you doesn't pick out weird shit.'
I move out in a week, so I've taken a ton of stuff home. Be back tonight.
(Home.)
I also observed that Mongolian BBQ is quite possibly the worst place to meet women. Firstly, it's a huge date place, and secondly, people end up doing a lot of stuff independently. A woman may finish getting her bowl ready before her husband, leaving her alone in line just long enough for a single man, say, your father, to strike up a conversation, only to have it awkwardly terminated by said husband joining the woman in line.
Another important thing to note about Mongolian BBQ is that the waitstaff, like every restaurant's waitstaff, is totally banging one another. Every griller has slept with every waitress. Every Friday night, after the doors close, all the Mongolian BBQ employees get together and have an orgy in a big pile of raw chicken and baby corn.
Also, chicken and baby corn are my two favorite ingredients at Mongo, so that mental image made me both horny and hungry. Horngry.
posted by Henry at 5:35 PM
2 Comments:
I ate there on Friday night. Not only is it a bad place to meet women, it's also a great place to experiment with cayenne pepper. You can put so much in your food, your nose starts to run as you're eating.
The wait staff there always asks, "Do you want rice or tortillas?" Like I know what I'm gonna get when I go up to the line. I always say, "Screw you, I want both. And bring me more pop."
I hate you Mongolian BBQ. Make my food for me and bring it to me. If I wanted to create a dish myself, stand around and have bad service I'd stay home and cook myself.
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