Week 13: Grandma, What Big Eyes You Have…

Week 13: Grandma, What Big Eyes You Have…

I’ve lost an hour of sleep due to the time change and I’m groggy. In fact, I’m miserable. Last night we went to the movies and saw Red Riding Hood (you know, with the big bad wolf?)…. And now this morning I’m representing the NC State Wolfpack. Twenty-four years of my life and I don’t even know if the word “wolf” has ever been included in my vocabulary and now, out of nowhere, I’m some creepy wolf fanatic. You may not know this but wolves are related to dogs so under normal circumstances I would boycott the entire species. However, because I saw Red Riding Hood last night I now know that wolves discriminate against unkempt village folk and have sex with hot actresses like Amanda Seyfried… so they must be respectable mammals.

The reason I’m representing the Wolfpack this morning is because Ryan has to work the Tampa College Fair as part of his alumni association responsibilities. Being the dedicated girlfriend I am I said I would help. Truth be told I actually just owe him a favor since he volunteered for one of my events a few weeks ago. I’d love to be in bed.

Prior to arriving at the college fair I threw on jeans and a red and black shirt seeing as Ryan was wearing jeans and a red plaid shirt. We needed to make a pit stop at his house on the way there to pick up some materials and without a warning he changed into black slacks, a red dress shirt and dress shoes. What an asshole.

I didn’t think my obsession with wolves had escalated thus far but I’d rather be dressed as a frigan wolf mascot then appearing the way I do now. He’s so adorable and I look like his jobless hippie girlfriend whose idea of dressing up is straightened hair and black pleather flip flops. Except I’m worse because I’m missing 3 toe nails and didn’t even have the decency to paint the skin before leaving the house. I basically look like one of the village folk from Red Riding Hood. Today is a major fail already. I’m not thinking about eating, I’m thinking about wearing a prom dress to breakfast after this to one up his preppy ass. Lucky for me I had frontier arms senior year of high school and the dress still fits.

Speaking of huge, a huge woman is the first to approach our table and she pulls her pants up right in front of me. The velour can’t cover her crack. It’s a lost cause. Unable to look away from her huge ass, I get caught staring. She says “Danggg Gurl. Somebuddy bought me these pants-they a 1X. Do I look like a 1X?!?!”  I was about to tell her I have no idea I don’t have any friends as big as you, but thankfully she didn’t let me speak and said “Gurlll I a 2X!”  Well lady I suggest you cover that whole accident of an upper pelvic area. And that ass. There are children here for goodness sake.

The Catholic University of America is in the booth across from us and they have two 70-something year olds working the table. I make an unfair assumption that they are handing out inexpensive hotel nightstand bibles but I can’t confirm anything because if I get any closer chances are I’ll go up in flames.

So time goes on. Lots of cute high school students eager to lose their parents, their virginity, their underage IDs, their dignity, their scholarships, their siblings, their athletic abilities and their will to be a good person come up to my booth. They ask me all about my experience at NC State and I let them know they were some of the best years of my life. I also let them know that I would have graduated in 4 years, had I not studied abroad through one of their 250 international programs. I didn’t go to NC State but everybody’s buying it. I accidently told a young aspiring vet that that we didn’t have a veterinarian program only to later find out that NC State actually has one of the best veterinarian schools in the country. Oh well.

After 3 hours we were done working the fair and extremely indecisive about where we wanted to go for brunch. We sat through a long period of silence and a frustrating lack of preferences and recommendations (on both our parts), and then we set sail for the Colonadde. The Colonadde is on Bayshore Boulevard and I haven’t been there in about 4 years. They’ve been open since 1935 and I think the exact same people have been going there every day since.

The hostess tries to seat us but Ryan let’s her know that we don’t want to sit at a table and will wait longer for a booth. I’m not exactly sure when he became so high maintenance but sometimes when he acts like a dick to others I really enjoy it. I smirk like a snob and walk right back to the waiting room with him.

So, here we go. Finally seated after watching Ryan slurp down a bloody mary and we’ve got a large menu in front of us. We’re definitely going to have to return at some point because we can’t possibly try everything. Ryan gets fried green tomatoes, a fried grouper sandwich, coleslaw and an order of spinach and artichoke dip for us to split. I get scallops, stuffed shrimp, rice pilaf and coleslaw. We also get complimentary muffins to snack on while we wait. Unfortunately the butter was too hard and the tiny muffins crumbled upon trying to maneuver a tasty bite.

The spinach and artichoke dip was amazing. It had buttery bread crumbs on the top of it and despite there being people around I continued to stick my fingers in it long after our dipping pitas were gone.

The shrimp: Best shrimp ever. Period. It was stuffed and in no way, shape or form could it be put in the same league as grilled shrimp or fried shrimp but that’s beyond the point. Had there not been elderly people everywhere I may have started eating it naked. When the stuffed shrimp hit my lips I found myself thinking that I would never need Ryan again. It’s been a great ride babe but these shrimp are the real deal. I could have a long term relationship with these little guys if it were socially acceptable. Socially acceptable? Who really knows what that is anymore seeing as the table across from us is reciting the Ten Commandments.

Ryan tackled his fried grouper sandwich like a true man. He ripped the healthy red tomatoes right out of the sandwich and replaced them with a big fat fried green tomato. I love him so much. He has a beard these days and there’s tarter sauce throughout it. I want to tell him but these tiny little scallops in front of me are more important. Oh what little wondrous pieces of joy. Seriously, I have died and gone to heaven. No really, I may have died because the lady next to us looks like “petrified wood.”  (Thanks to Ryan for clarifying what type of wood that woman’s face resembled—I would have just said bark).

We were stuffed beyond capacity and when the waiter asked us for dessert I had to tell him to get lost. The only thing I want is a couch and a diet pill. Possibly lipo. After the ride home I’m seriously debating the options. Out of nowhere Ryan told me that I should also start a fitness blog about working out every day. Really babe? Why don’t you instead just write me a condolence card that says “I’m sorry for your weight gain” alongside a balloon that’s ready to pop. Thanks to you this week is going to consist of smoothies and running and I’m not sure if there will be any time to pencil you in.  So until next Sunday, the eating is done.


Colonnade on Urbanspoon

Posted by admin

Categorised under Sunday Meatball Chronicles
Bookmark the permalink or leave a trackback.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *


You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>