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Ghetto Hits Olive Garden

Mrs. Brownman, her sister, and myself hit the local cuisine at Olive Garden this past weekend. Argue all you want, the crack in their food has me coming back for more not-so-home-cooking. 

And naturally we are seated by the village idiot:

-It was some 35ish year-old shaven-head creep and what seems to be his weird mistress. 

-Despite his tucked in shirt and slacks, he didn’t act like an adult that comes to a restaurant to sit down and eat. 

-I’ve been doing presentations all day with bullet points so please excuse the format of this blog since bullets make no sense. Except for the bullets I wanted to put into this annoying customer of the upscale (for ghetto people at least) Olive

-This guy started off humming real loud to get attention. His date cracked up profusely. 

-Then he began making noises with his fork. Again, his retarded date continued to encourage the idiot. 

-Then he decided to apply the one thing he learned in science class. He wet the top of his glasses of water and ran his retarded finger rapidly to produce vague musical noises. 

He leaned over to the black couple to his left and said “excuse Mr- I know you didn’t expect to serenade yo’ date tonight but I’m gonna play for y’all!”

So it continued. He had the blacks laughing at his ghetto Spanish self, saying “we gonna start a band and play on the streets for money!”. The blacks patronized him so he kept playing Rock Retardband on his glasses. And repeated 3 times in a loud annoying voice “we gonna start a band and play on the streets for money!”

Why do these people want to live up to their stereotypes? I’m not saying we all act like pompous white people and annunciate each word. But sit down and eat without me noticing you. Sheesh. 

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