Eating out with the Turds

March 8, 2016

I am obviously no food critic, the menus of posh restaurants look like The Da Vinci code to me, I waste far too much time googling the meaning of every item.

What I am a good critic of is the “kid friendliness” of a venue.

I don’t mind when a restaurant isn’t kid friendly, the fine dining types, the ones with the invisible “fuck you and fuck your kids” signs out the front. I obviously steer well away.

It’s the ones that claim to be child friendly but are run by non child friendly arseholes who stalk your children waiting for them to behave like children so that they can “win” and gleefully tell you that you are a failure. They are the ones I have issues with.

When I broke up with Bill a couple of years ago I moved into a rental with my 2 kids, times were tough but I was determined not to be defeated particularly by Arlo who had just turned 2.

One day we strolled down to the local Italian restaurant, feeling all sexy and milf like, took the kids in and sat them down, paid the $2 each for some colouring in packs and ordered us all pasta.

Only the kids couldn’t get enough room on the table so they took their colouring to the corner on the floor..

Enter mole unqueenly waitress whom was ecstatic to see “rules” being broken.

“Umm excuse me, your kids aren’t allowed to colour in on the floor….”

Ok, then. The fun sponge has spoken, I politely asked my children to come back to the table..

They both said “no”

Waitress beamed with excitement.

I told the kids that they won’t get Ice-cream after dinner if they don’t do what I asked, they continue to ignore me.

Billie-Violet decided she wanted Arlo’s colouring in, she snatched it. He screamed at her and pulled her hair, she sat on him and got him in a head lock.

I got my milf arse off my chair and picked her up still swinging punches and pleaded with her, she agreed to stop, meanwhile Arlo had gone outside, grabbed his scooter and was hooning through the restaurant, high fiving some, crashing into others.

The waitress nearly orgasmed she was so excited about judging me for this.

I moved us to a table outside and managed to suffer through my pasta in record speed amongst the chaos.

Went into pay and obviously the waitress was so relaxed after climaxing over watching my milf-like sexy single mother self fail that she actually didn’t even notice I was standing there and I overheard her saying to her fellow rude bitch fun-spongeĀ “it was like a scene out of a film, one feral was holding the other feral down, shit was going everywhere, the mum didn’t even ..”

I interrupted,

“it’s usual protocol to wait until customers have left the building before bitching about them”

After sex glow promptly left mole face’s face.

Deflated I walked home with my homies. Not feeling like a capable sexy Queenie anymore.

Now, fast forward a month. Bill and I are trying to resolve our difference, we were driving through the city and spontaneously thought we should go out for dinner, I had always wanted to try Jamie Oliver’s new restaurant ‘Jamies’ yet could never get a table, tried our luck..

There was a line, waiting patiently I watched as the kids began mission “fuck up everyone’s night” and started pole dancing on the balustrades. A shiver ran down my spine, some horny waitress is about to get her rocks off on making me feel like shit..

I raced over to them and just as I was about to began negotiations a waitress interrupts me, I instantly put forth my guards until I heard the following words spill out of her mouth

“Excuse me, please don’t feel that you need to control the kids, at Jamies we are very pro children behaving like children, you just relax and enjoy your evening”

I quickly put my sunglassss on, I really didn’t need this Queen seeing the tears of joy streaming down my face at this small yet powerful act of kindness. I had been so fucking starved of kindness.

We didn’t eat there in the end, the line was too long and to be honest I still haven’t gotten around to trying the place, but I get a very special slightly sexual tingly feeling when I hear Jamie Oliver’s lisp on TV now, just knowing that at Jamies there is a waitress who gives no fucks about my Rad-kids and their spirited dining habits completes me.

No orgasms over my social failures in sight.

Well played Jamie.



Constance Hall

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Constance Hall

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