So, I love Piola. It is super shmlicious and I love eating it.
That said, over the years I have gotten to know this waiter that works there (I guess not really “gotten to know”, per se, but I always eat and drink the exact same thing and he remembers. I am nothing if not constant unless it’s a night I am looking to act like a jackass then I’ll start with a martini. Let’s be honest, no one handles martinis all that well…
Anyway, we went the other day and I hesitated on what I wanted to drink. Here was my train of thought- am I getting really drunk or just kind of drunk, so in my slight hesitation he made the joke, ‘well, it wouldn’t be dinner for you if you weren’t drinking a lot of wine, huh?’
First of all, thank you for verbally slapping me in the face. Second, let me tell you, people love being made fun of. Well, his accent sounds like Animal from the Muppets but you don’t see me throwing that in his face.
So although the waiter and I aren’t friends anymore, Piola is monsterdelicious. But after the muppets comment, mine will just taste little more like spit than yours.