It was a night like any other – people inviting us out to a steakhouse. We get there, we are seated in a private room. All was well. Niceties aside, we prepare to order. I ask my wife what I should get. She says, “Go ahead and look at the menu – it’s in English.”
“Oh Really?”
I started out chuckling, then got progressively louder each time.
I’m not quite that hungry, thanks.
The scorn adds that little extra kick.
Am I the only one turned on now? Guys? Anyone?
I’m starting to get nauseous at this point, but I’m still laughing. It gets better.
I was so stunned by the English blunders herein, I had to buy the menu from them. Can you imagine the scene when that happened? I’ll never forget it. They couldn’t decide whether to be flattered or confused.
