First a little background info. We are a three name family or as we like to call ourselves the PMJs (Portner, Morris Jacksons) It took some time for my fairly traditional husband to get why I didn’t take his name, but I think we are good 10 years later. So anyway, despite unintentionally confusing strangers and receptionists I think it suits our little family.
I am sure many of you parents out there that interact with their children have been subjected to playing restaurant. The Husband and I were sitting at the table not doing anything when we were presented with a meat menu and a chicken menu. These menus were masquerading in the form of books so we needed to get on The Associates imagination super highway. I always like to assume the role of an uppity rich woman, and incessantly complain about the service I am getting in this establishment. The Husband ordered chicken marsala from his chicken menu, which is apparently spelled sour chicken. ew. I ordered a porterhouse for two with béarnaise sauce, au gratin potatoes and green beans. “What do you mean you don’t have béarnaise sauce?, this is ridiculous.” “where are our drinks?” I feel that it is my right to behave this way because in real life I am really nice to everybody I encounter in the service industry. Been there done that for many many years. I am not being a terrible role model, just like to spice up the game. After some clattering of pans and silverware we were proffered Portnerhouse for 2. Invisible and Delicious.