Have I written yet about my horribly inappropriate sense of humor? I laugh at all sorts of things that I think are incredibly funny but everyone else thinks are not funny at all. Like the movie Boogie Nights. I appreciate things on an ironic level that most other people just don’t get. I also laugh at completely inappropriate moments, when one is supposed to be sympathetic or serious. Like my grandmother’s funeral. This is one of the reasons why sometimes I am the Worst Wife Ever. Luckily for me, my husband has grown used to this over the years, so when I laugh at his pain, and then apologize profusely, he just says, “That’s OK, my job is to amuse you.”
Recently The Hubs came home from work and said he felt “off.” I asked if he was OK and he said, “I dunno. But I don’t think I want to eat dinner.” Poor guy. After The Girl was in bed, he went to ay down, and about an hour after The Boy went to bed, he got up and threw up. Poor guy. I was sympathetic and then I asked him what he had for lunch. He said he took his coworker out to a restaurant he had never been to called Bernard’s on Seneca.
Now, if you are not from Seattle, or even if you are, this may mean nothing to you, but of you are at all familiar with the dive bar scene in Seattle, you have heard of Bernard’s. The place is in the basement of a hotel and it hasn’t changed in 40 years. It’s got those massive dark carved wood doors that were so popular in the 1970’s and honestly, I have walked past there a few times but I have always been too scared to go in there. From the outside, it looks like those guys from Goodfellas might be hanging out in there. Also, the reviews on the food are not exactly stellar, I mean, I don’t think the menu has been updated since 1970 either.
So, I kind of freaked out when The Hubs said he went there. I was like, “Wow! you actually ate there?!?! No wonder you feel like crap! What possessed you to go there?!?!” His friend had asked to go there, and since The Hubs was taking him out for a goodbye limch, The Hubs had let him pick the restaurant. The friend had described it as a “German” restaurant but The Hubs, who lived in Germany for a year, confirmed that they don’t really have much “German” food. I asked what he ordered, and he said he had a salad. Also, he said everything on the menu had thousand island dressing on it.
This is the point where the uncontrollable giggling began. It was a perfect storm of the things that make me laugh uncontrollably: a horrible restaurant I could appreciate on an ironic level; a stomach ailment (come on, if vomit wasn’t funny, why would they sell plastic vomit at joke shops?). And then he said when he ordered a coke, the waitress said, “RC Cola?” You mean to tell me they don’t have coke or pepsi, only RC Cola? I almost peed my pants. I did laugh until I cried and my nose ran.
And then I apologized because I am the Worst Wife Ever. And then I distracted him with my boobies, and all was forgiven.