I Want To Be An Electric Eel

We went out to lunch the other day. To my right was a table full of cackling hens of varying ages who were extremely excited about their recent/upcoming trip to China. I know this because they wouldn't shut up about the two young girls learning Chinese. At the table. Over, and over, and over again. Now, I fully support the idea that those who are going to visit a foreign land have at least a passing familiarity with the language. I do not support you screaming Chinese while I'm trying to eat. The exception being that I'm in a Chinese restaurant, and some buffet buffalo just stomped on the foot of a waiter.

Behind me sat a family with an infant and a small child. The infant started out in a high chair, but cried so much they moved him/her/it to a seat with one of the parents. At more than one point during my meal, the baby kept touching my back. Now, many people will go "awww, how cute!" This is why I don't get along with most people. Up until that point, I had no idea the baby was immediately behind me. While I'm not the most massive person around, I guarantee you that my mass is more than enough to harm the baby had I leaned back, sneeze, or whatever. Tiny baby fingers will lose out every time. And in that scenario, I would be the bad guy. Because the goddamn parents aren't watching their friggin' infant. At home, where they should be until he/she/it is old enough to vote.

I'm waiting for some entrepreneur in Tucson to open a restaurant that only serves adults. They will get 100% of my business. Except on Screamin' Mandarin Tuesday.