Yes Dear, We Can Eat Out Tonight. Just get me a shirt that says ”Kill Me Please”


tom1My lovely wife used to love going out to eat. Life with me has changed things for her and for her entire family. My wife has just decided that I am a much bigger pain in the ass when asked to leave the house for the sake of a meal, than the meal is worth. Her parents adore me, and I them. She made the mistake of complaining about my shitty attitude about eating out to her mother. Now nobody eats out on their birthday, because her mother does not want me to be inconvenienced. I gotta say “THAT ROCKS!”

All restaurants are bullshit. I hate every single one of them and there is not a single exception to this. It isn’t just the restaurants though; it is the entire hellish process:
First, we have to decide where we want to go, and what time we will meet. In many ways this is the most brutal part. Why must I be involved in this process? I don’t want to go. (15 min.)

Once we I have all that worked out, I will inevitably have to get up out of my chair and I know my wife is going to insist I take a shower, shave, and all the other personal preparations that go along with this endeavor. (60 min for my lovely wife, even though I only need 10min.)

Now we have to go get in the car and join all the other people in the world who would rather be in traffic than be in the privacy and comfort of their own home (20 min. if I’m lucky).

Almost two hours of my life have been consumed. Two hours that has been cast into Hell, never to return to me ever.

But then, we are at “The Restaurant”; the magical palace of food, and culinary enlightenment the likes of which we could never have at home.

We enter the building, and walk up to the podium where a young lady stands who is now in control of how long we will have to stand around listening to the mundane ramblings of the other human beings whose time is so meaningless that they can contently spend an indefinite amount of it, standing around waiting to eat this exquisite meal.

Picture5They stand around completely unaware of themselves, and all they talk about is a bunch of things that I don’t give a shit about it is a common courtesy  that if you are around people who are in close quarters, and you are one of those “Loud-Talking” morons, you should at accept the responsibility to be interesting (45min).

After a lifetime of walking out of earshot of a room full of inconsiderate assholes, it happens. The stupid pager begins to beep, and we get to move on to the next exhibit at Hell’s Museum of Disappointments” We follow the hostess like cattle, so she can show us where we are to sit. Now we receive our menus and she tells us that someone other than herself will be deciding our fate this evening. (7min)

Here comes the waitress who suggests a great time management idea. Let’s order our drinks first. We order the drinks and now we wait some more, but at least we are not thirsty (10min).

Now we are to decide which of the pre-selected entrées will most closely match our appetite. We place our orders, and then we wait again (35min).
Finally! I hear the mighty trumpets. It is the symphony of our celebration. This is what it all has meant. They are playing a fanfare in observation of our foods arrival, and upon this day. We shall eat the greatest meal of our lives.

This part is at least, tolerable. I am hungry after all, but can I have a moment of peace. NO. because it is some assholes birthday so the whole staff is marching out doing a stupid dance, so this clown doesn’t feel slighted on the celebration of the day that this world got just a little shittier, his birth.

I have finished eating, and my problems have returned. I am still not home yet. Other people at my table are milking this shit. Every time they stop eating to speak, it is like them flipping me the bird.

I begin watching the eaters at my table. Someone else, who has finished eating, decides to interrupt one of the eaters with a question. Well this will not stand. I can’t have an eater stop to talk. So I interrupt that conversation, by starting a conversation with the interrupter. This will free up the eater to finish so we can get me the hell out of this place.(60 min)

Now everyone is finished, and our plates have all been taken away. Why aren’t we leaving? How long does it take to write up our bill? She should have had that shit taken care of beforehand. She comes back and asks the dreaded question. ”Can I get anyone some desert?” I am absolutely losing it here. I say to myself “Say no. Say no. Say no.” and everyone said no. I couldn’t believe I just caught my first break of the evening.(15 min)

The bill finally comes. Our host takes it and puts his credit card into the little black booklet. The bill comes back, and now the meal is officially over, but there is another problem; no one is getting up. (10 minutes later) and no one is even looking around. Why are we still here? What could they possibly have left to talk about?  Why am I looking at all these people? Why am I still hearing the bullshit ramblings of strangers? Why is my ass still in this chair?

Fuck this. This shit ends right NOW. I am going to get this party started.

I stand up, and extend bullshit “Thank You” to our host. Everybody then realizes that this night out has now ended. We walk out of the restaurant, and it is a clear sign that things are returning to a normal state. (10min)

We get to the car and it cranks right up. We roll smoothly out of the parking lot, and on to the road. Nothing can stop me now. After a bit of driving we enter our beautiful subdivision. Two turns and I can see the light on my front porch. We enter the driveway, and I kill the engine. The silence of our yard soothes me as I exit the vehicle. I walk up to my front door, enter my house, two steps in and I look to my left, and there it is. I look at it , and it looks back at me. I say out loud “Daddy missed you.” It’s my chair. I love my chair.

I make the final steps and I swear I could hear my chair, beckoning for my ass. Finally they meet. We are together at last. No more bullshit, just me, my laptop, and my chair that I love.

Over four hours to eat dinner. Four hours away from my friend. No meal will ever come between us again.

I am Tom Nardone, and you are welcome.


23 thoughts on “Yes Dear, We Can Eat Out Tonight. Just get me a shirt that says ”Kill Me Please”

  1. Richard Koyd

    I thought of you today and laughed out loud. Girlfriend asks: What you laughing at ? I say No just something a friend said. She had dragged me to the waterfront. OK I did enjoy looking at the old fort there which I didn’t even know existed. But the rest of the time was so boring! What a load of bs. And I had to pay R16 for an ice cream. Man I have ice cream at home that I can get 3 litres of at that price. Now I’d better make sure I don’t tell her about this site otherwise I will be in deep shit ! Keep going Tom, its true you are awesome.


    1. iamtomnardone Post author

      Richard thanks man. Look you are awesome and you did the right thing. Most women are not able to rationalize my thinking on this issue. You held your tounge and therefore will live to dine out another day. Thanks for the thoughts man you have brought honor to the men of “I Am Tom Nardone”


  2. bossymoksie

    Sometimes people just want a change of scenery. You are not one of those people.
    And yeah, people are there because they have nothing better to do!
    I will have to use ‘Hell’s Museum of Disappointments’ in my vernacular now. Just too brilliant.


  3. jadereyner

    How could I have missed this post?? Shocking! What can I say…. although I wouldn’t have put it quite so eloquently (!) I had a good laugh at this one. You are so right and you didn’t even cover the fact of whether or not the food was any good – surely that’s the biggest disappointment after going through everything you did to get there??!! Or are restaurants on your side of the pond better than ours?? And on a personal note – why the hell was I not at the table!!!????? Re-thinking our friendship as I type….


  4. essaalroc

    I generally just get shitfaced at restaurants. Last time I went out, my food tab; $2.50. My alcohol tab? $37.50. Loved the picture, by the way. 🙂


  5. Judy Smith

    My husband feels almost as strongly about eating out as you do and possesses something akin to your level of patience. Difference is, he’s a cook/chef and he’d much rather make all the meals himself. I can deal with that. In fact, it was in the fine print on our marriage contract. He plans, shops for, cooks AND cleans up every meal. Every day. So if and when we do eat out, it’s a break for him not me. The part he doesn’t do well with is the part where you’re finished eating but you have to continue to make polite conversation with people you may or may not like much. As long as it’s just the two of us he doesn’t have to suffer fanny fatigue, because I GET IT. I’m thinking you guys would have a lot in common, but two of you in one room might be a bit much, so never mind.


  6. ksbeth

    enjoy the adventure of it all and let them go, bring you back a carryout, take it to your favorite chair, add a cupholder and a beer, and voila, a dream night!


    1. iamtomnardone Post author

      Well I would obviously be amenable to that. The problem is that my greatness is such that they would never allow me to stay home and hog it all. everybody seems to want a piece of Tom Nardone.


  7. Valentine Logar

    You are not viewing this from the correct vantage.

    Meal preparation (I am certain your wife must do this) standing in the kitchen (20 min)
    Cooking the meal previously prepared (30 min)
    Calling Tom to the table and listening to him grip about moving his ass (10 min)
    Eating (20 min)
    Clearing table after diners, which wife likely does while Tom rests (10 min)
    Rinsing dishes and putting them in dish washer (20 min)
    Cleaning pots and pans used in meal prep and cooking (20 min)
    Putting dishes away (10 min)

    2 hours start to finish your wife must spend every day while Tom rests. That is 14 hours a week. 728 hours a year.

    Just think, even if you only go out to dinner once a week what a relief you are giving to the woman you love. What a wonderful husband you are taking your wife to dinner and providing a day of rest.


    1. iamtomnardone Post author

      It is difficult to type on an iPod. It is extraordinarily difficult to type on an iPod while you’re laughing which is what I have been doing ever since I began reading your comment.

      I should have probably pointed out that I am more than happy to cook and clean and take care of all the dishes rather than go out to eat. Val I only wish I lived in the fantasyland that you describe.

      Your comments were every bit as brilliant as what I have come to expect. Thank you very much.

      Val, You are awesome!!!




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