Who ever talked me into going to this crazy restaurant?
I guess my friend Tyler, Fred's "son," did. It's a few blocks from where he works, so good for having dinner while waiting out rush-hour traffic.
But Tyler is an expert in the culinary arts. Surely he could drive a few miles to a more...um...modern place, rather than Charlie's Bar and Grille.
Decor from the fifties.
Clientele consisting entirely of heterosexual couples in their 90s.
Grotesquely outdated music playing in the background, syrupy-slow versions of the most depressing songs possible.
"If You Could Read My Mind"
And my personal non-favorite, "Times of Your Life":
The waitress, the only person under 90 in the restaurant, is intrusive, overly aggressive, telling us in detail where every menu item is located, as if we have never seen a restaurant menu before, and coming back twice to ask "How's everything tasting?"
I hate the "How's everything?" question. It always comes at the exact moment when your mouth is full or you're discussing something embarrassing. But I hate the "How's everything tasting?" question even more. I order food for its nutritional value and visual appeal. Who cares about the taste?
And to make matters worse, a second person, a maitre-d or wine steward or something, comes up and asks "How's everything tasting?" a third time!
I'm not answering this time. Let Tyler do it.
The full story, with nude photos and sexual situations, is on Tales of West Hollywood.