freeform goodness

The missus and I had breakfast at Bob Evans today (the Homestead Breakfast, if you follow that link.) The waitress (probably about 20 years old) asked me how I wanted my eggs, and I said “hard-boiled.” She looked at me as if I’d asked for my eggs “cross-bleezled, with a sprinkle of Halon” or something.

“Um, do you mean ‘over hard?’”

“No, hard-boiled will be fine.”

“Hold on, I have to check if we have ‘hard-boiled’ eggs…” (she’s still looking at me as though my head might, at any moment, rotate 360 degrees.)

She disappears for about 20 seconds, presumably to ask one of her cow-orkers whether she knows anything about these ‘harte-boyled’ eggs of which I speak.

“I’m sorry, we don’t cook eggs that way. Would you like them over hard?”

(Hesitatingly) “No, I’ll have them over easy.” (I guess she’d heard of those. They came out fine.)

:: 20:14
:: /entertainment/foodanddrink | [+]
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