Poor little boy, he's obviously trashed . . . he has to go to something called "Juku," even now that it's his goddamned summer vacation. Like, six days a week, 8 hours a day. So it's no wonder he gets tired . . . I don't want to drag him around on my shopping excursions, in which I'm sure he has no interest, so whaddayagonnado.
We went to dinner at his favourite Italian place, an the moment I got served I remembered something that had happened two years before: the food is excellent, it really is, but there is so little of it.
It's really my only meal of the day, and normally I'm not a pig—I physically can't eat a lot—but with pasta, I can eat more than two cups at a time. But they were serving what seemed to be a lot less, and I think two years ago I casually said something and they gave me more pasta from then on.
But this time, it seems they had forgotten. (Judge for yourself:
Hmm . . . kinda looks like a lot here. But I swear it wasn't! Anyway, I, having my back to the bar, apparently started griping (in English!) about the amount, and my happy son neglected to mention that the owner/waitress was "cleaning glasses" behind the bar in the empty restaurant.
Well, I was quite surprised, when, having finished my meal, she came over and asked if I wanted another serving! I was, umm, shocked, to say the least. Whaaa?
It was only when I sussed to what must have happened that my antennae started buzzing in tune . . .
Oh well. I guess we won't be revisiting that place.
Although as I recall, that time a couple of years ago, they started giving me more pasta every time I came.
Whatever . . .
|Tai-chan looks unhappy with his serving, too . . .|
|His serving actually looks even smaller than mine . . .|