Ever since I deep-dove into the LJ archives last week, I’ve been feeling some type of way. I guess also because we’re in the throes of our 20th year together so the emotions have been REAL.
One of the posts I read was from our first or second year together where we went to this family restaurant out in Perryopolis (whatever that means) called RANDALL’S and I made a point to ask for separate checks but when I went to pay, they didn’t accept credit cards so Henry ended up having to pay for me anyway. I thought it was interesting because he was definitely living with me at that point but apparently we still paid separately when eating out??
It’s hard to even imagine.
So since Henry is done with his BIG CHORE (aka THE SIGN), I suggested that we revisit Randall’s today for lunch while WORKING CHOOCH was WORKING. Kind of like a date??!!
Plus I just really kind of wanted a grilled cheese, you know?
First of all, henry got cole slaw and I was excited because it’s been a hot minute since I got to take a HENRY EATS COLE SLAW action shot. I truly apologize for the delay.
But guys. That cole slaw. It was THICK. Literally had SKIN on it. Clearly it was proportioned and chilling in a fridge all day but still – stir that shit! I mean it was ok, not the worst I’ve had (yes I always stew a forkful or five from Henry’s ‘slaw) but DANG that consistency was jarring.
My grilled cheese was you know, basic. This ain’t Melt, yanno.
Meanwhile henry was making dumb observations like “are these booths new?” Bro I don’t fucking know! I literally can’t even remember the last time we ate at Randall’s! It was basically like being there for the first time, at that point.
The first time I was ever there was in high school (senior year or possibly the summer after?) with Janna. Why the fuck we were in perryopolis is beyond me but I remember this was back when I was obsessed with .38 Special and Janna either had a car phone (?????) or a cell phone (????) because I remember calling the classic rock radio station afterward to request “Caught Up In You” and the DJ answered and asked me where I was calling from and I said “a parking lot” because duh, that’s where we were?? And he was like BUT WHERE IS THE PARKING LOT and I yelled I DUNNO PERRYOPOLIS??! and then he played my song after making some exasperated comment about me on air and it was also raining REALLY HARD I think? Janna if you’re reading this, feel free to weigh in but if you say “This never happened, you’re dreaming” a la my mom, I will fucking cry probably.
Yeah so that was a story. You’re welcome.
Our lunch was nothing to write home about, she said in the full-ass blog post she’s writing about it. Even still, when our waitress (who was great btw, service was fine!) asked if we saved room for dessert i barely gave her a chance to hang the question mark at the end of the sentence before blurting out YES WHAT KIND OF PIE DO YOU HAVE.
A LOT, evidently. She made a point of specifying that the two different kinds of apple pie had REAL APPLES (in Korean the word for apple also means apology) NOT THE CANNED STUFF and my gut was singing a “get the Dutch apple” jingle but NO I ordered a slice of coconut cream and told Henry we would share.
Coconut cream is one of my faves BUT I am very picky with it. I hate hate hate meringue (most of the time) and definitely prefer when it’s capped with a whipped cream topping instead. Don’t boo me, meringue lovers! Sometimes meringue can actually be good and refreshing and I will gladly slurp it down. But I find that is not often the case in restaurant meringues.
Bro. I knew as soon as I spotted the waitress with the coconut creame’d plate from across the room that it was going to be bad.
And it was. Not just the meringue. But the actual coconut custard was made with the same carelessness as the coleslaw! It was soooooo gelatinous and even Henry hated it. He pointed out that it tasted like chemicals. I had two small bites and pushed it over to his side and even he couldn’t finish it.
Dang, Randall’s. Put some effort into that shit! I cannot remember the last time we left a restaurant with an unpolished dessert plate.
Since we were in the vicinity I suggested popping over to the nearby Quaker cemetery because it’s been a while since we were last there. Henry was secretly scared because it’s haunted and tried to say that it was gated now because of vandalism but when we got there, the gate was open. Too bad so sad, Henry.
Quakering in my not-boots!
I swear it was way windier in the cemetery than it was anywhere else but henry will probably just rationalize it by saying WE WERE ON A HILL or whatever.
Sadly, no spirits that I can see but something inside the Church kept banging and Henry was like THAT IS FROM THE WIND but no, it was FROM DEMONS I am sure of it.
Then Professional Driver got lost somehow and blamed my phone because he hates Apple. Mm, cook on. That was fine though because it gave us more time to listen to NCT127 (this latest comeback has me dead) and then fall down a rabbit hole of NINETIES R&B THAT MADE TEENAGE ERIN WANT TO HANG HERSELF. It was a good afternoon. Really. It was.
If you’re thinking “boy I thoroughly enjoyed reading this drivel and could really go for round two,” here’s a post about a time we were at this cemetery when Chooch was but a wee one.