Wednesday, February 29, 2012


We're going to Dallas for the Penguins game tonight. We're also staying at a ridiculously expensive hotel because it's walking distance from the arena, and it improves the WAF (wife acceptance factor) for the trip. This hotel also has a restaurant.

"Eli said that he wants to eat at the arena," I said to Gloria. "I told him that was fine, as long as he could go to the restaurant with us and be polite while we ate."

"We're not eating at the restaurant," Gloria said. "You would both hate it."

"What? Isn't there an Uncomfortable Man Fallback ItemĀ© on the menu?"

"None," she said.

"No roasted chicken? No hamburger?"

"It's so exclusive it's almost impossible to even find the menu," she said.

"We can't even afford the menu," I said. "Maybe it's password-protected."

"The trend among these ultra high-end restaurants now is to have vaguely disgusting food on the menu," she said.

"Like what?"

"Root vegetables and questionable meats," she said.

"I'll put you down for an arena pizza," I said.

We were watching NHL Tonight, just looking at a few highlights.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually kind of enjoy watching hockey," she said.

"Oh my god," I said. She started laughing. "I feel like those drug smugglers who dug that 400-yard-long tunnel under the border--it took ten years, but it was totally worth it."

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