Get thee behind me Satan...or at least out of ear's reach

Alright I'm back 'atcha with another telling tale about the awful lunch from lucifer himself.

Before that though, I must tell you all that I'm sitting in my poshy McPosherton hotel in downtown Phila working on the lobby computer. I went upstairs to the privacy of my very modern hotel room to publish this article, and I got slapped with the blue screen of ALL bluescreens. This one covered the whole screen, had a ton of binary code on it, and at the very bottom read something like this

"Commence memory dump..........
.....physical memory dump completed
Consult your technical advisor or re-install Windows XP"

Sounds really bad, so in lieu of privacy I'm going to klak klak klak away here on the computer of the Club Quarters.

OK GO! As I mentioned last time, I was sitting in the olive garden trying to enjoy a good meal, all the while feeling the sweet sting of shrieking in my ear because some kid was making a ruckus (and a mother was doing NOTHING to stop it). That was nothing, though, compared to "Siam" the two year old version of Rosemary's Baby. Stap yourselves in for this one and get ready to git-git-git-git fired up!

I know that this young lady's name was Sian (Or Cyan, or Syan, or SAI-ANN!!) because her lame duck parents kept on repeating "Sian! What are you doing? Sian! No! Sian, plllleeaaaasseeeee be quiet pleeeaasseeee Sian we are at your mercy oh boo hoo hooo hooooo" or something like that. This creature kept running around the restaurant because, in her words (which were very much audible all over the restaurant) "I want sit myself, not with you!!" So you know what Sian wanted...you know what mom and dad wanted, and now without further ado I give you...

A Conversation with Sian and her Idiot Parents:

Sian: I want sit myself...not with you!"

Dad: "mMmpphh"

Sian "I sit here" (points to another separate table)

Mom: "Sian...no"

Sian: "YES!!!"

Mom: (walking over to pick up demon child) "Sian you need to sit here" (picks up child)

Sian: "NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! NO NO NOOOOOOOOOOOO NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

Dad: (sigh) "mmphh hmmm uhhhh"


Now take that conversation, multiply it by three, include two bathroom "talking-to" intermissions, and you have the drama that was created by this horrible, horrible young girl. I kid you not, when the mom picked her up (hey dad, way to be a role model...douche!!) that girl screamed like you were trying to saw her legs off. And as the mom carried this writing, wailing little creature to the bathroom, she continued to scream and howl and cry and make a huge fuss. And when she got to the bathroom, yeah, I could hear her sreaming still. What a horrible kid. She completely terrorized the parents, the patrons of the restaurant, and any unfortunate woman who was having a delicate moment in the ladies room.

2 things came to my mind as I tried to wolf down my pasta as fast as I could: 1) I should have heard a lot more slapping and spanking coming from the restroom, and 2) How on earth do you fail so badly at parenthood that you cannot even tell a 2 year old what to do? Granted I have never had (legitimate) kids before, but you can be dang sure that unless my kid is a cherub, I'm not going to take him/her out in a public restaurant. You can also bet I will not have any qualms about walking to the car, and paddling the crap out of my own flesh and blood. I mean honestly, how do you let a 2 year old rule your life? If you can't even go out in public without your kid prompting the staff at Olive Garden to declar martial law in the restaurant, then you in my mind are not fit to bear offspring. I'll take your kids dang it! And I've also got a sure fire way to help hellion-spawning parents to un-Huff themselves. It involves 3 steps:

1) Go to the corner
2) Think about what you've done
3) You've in time-out until I get ready to paddle you.

Geez people, it's not rocket science here. Are you all feeling me on this one? Rant over!!