Thirty Six - Lighting The Pose

I find success a tough pill to swallow. For one thing the safety packaging of the bottle the pills come in seems particularly hard to open, what so people with deformed lobster hands aren't allowed to get success you dicks?  Then there is that ball of cotton wool in the way for some reason, I get it, you're about to inundate me with praise to the point where I need to put cotton wool in my ears to get a break, but you MUST know that when I see cotton wool it reminds me of the time I cottoned on to the fact that my parents were the adults that lived in my house, and therefore my parents were not the painting on the wall of a small Buddhist horse that was trying to unveil the new headquarters for the secret society of socially awkward actuaries, but was having a dilemma over whether this new center would help or hinder the actuaries efforts to have people feel sorry for them over their social awkwardness, while the small horse was also feeling it's own personal shame at recently discovering that when it was sitting in the lotus position and saying the word 'ohm' the pressure on its groin occasionally made its voice break, which was very embarrassing, and making this discovery made me furious at my parents for not teaching me the fine art of being an actuary until I was almost completely potty trained, those dicks. YES, I'm serious, I thought being an actuary was only a broad art until I was nearly fourteen. 

But then even once you've swallowed this pill you then have the next ordeal of trying to decide which celebratory swear word you want to put before 'yeah' - 'hell', 'shit', 'fuck' would do fine, but when you, like me, coin a new swear every couple of days, the process can be quite difficult. Consider these new swears I coined just in the week before the past week:

- Klant
- Tilp
- Qamvaxinaxe

Disgusting right? So you think I WANT to think about words like that? I don't. That's why for the most part I avoid success. But sometimes you can't avoid it. Like NOW, and this success was BIG! 

'Oh my god' exhaled the manger as he walked in the door and saw what I'd done to his restaurant, as I've already mentioned before, which is in no way NOW. 

And that said it all to me. I WAS a success. So I definitely didn't need to listen to the rest of the praise the manager now yelled and screamed at me. I'm no narcissist, and I assume that most people are yelling and screaming praise at me almost all the time, so I don't even bother to listen to other people most of the time. Besides he kept showing me one single finger, saying non-verbally over and over, almost violently - 'you're number one'. Yep, number one, which is way above god, who most of the time isn't even a number at all, except for occasionally when you're chatting around a camp fire and say to your friends 'imagine if god was the number 12' and for the next few hours everyone can barely speak because they're laughing so hard.

So I still think the manager was definitely overselling god's part in the process, I felt I personally had more to do with it, and yes, my talents may have been God given, but I CHOSE to have them God given! So suck on that manager, you dick. Plus you look a lot like that weirdo in the restaurant library who put a picture of himself with kids in there and then hangs around, so my god you suck, and by 'god' I mean 12!!! Ha ha. Burn.

They looked so alike that they may even be twins - so that makes sense actually, twins are always evil, and if I were evil the FIRST thing I'd do is hang around restaurant libraries - there's tons of cool books in there, sometimes there's old food lying around, its ace, as I always say restaurant libraries are THE oft forgotten wonder chest in a restaurant.

He also said he was going to call the police, which I thought was excessive, I didn't need a police lights, we had fire places. But I could see how he wanted the party atmosphere. 

Still, party lights or not, that was enough for me. I'd done my job. This restaurant was FRESH as NEW, and while the party was sure to be BIG, it wasn't my place to enjoy it, at least not NOW. So that's when I left the restaurant. As I left I did hear the manager said again 'I'm going to call the police', which was nice but excessive, I also didn't need a police escort to get me where I was going, but I said 'go for it' anyway, as I thought maybe the manager just needed someone to tell how awesome things had gotten, and when something awesome happens to me I always call the police to tell them about it.

And so that was it, that was the end of my experience at - Big Fat Juan's Mexican Mexican Mexican! 

So I guess you know what time that makes it time for, where by time I mean in the clock sense, and by clock I mean 'teller of time', in the timeless sense that only certain things can have, things like tennis, professional ant boxing over FIFTEEN rounds, time, and trying to not scrape your knee while trying to find an ant that has both the physique AND the mental fortitude for real ant boxing, and I'm talking about having it in BIG quantities, and talking having it NOW, I mean who has space in their ant boxing gym at the moment, the waiting lists are out of control - that's right, it's time for ratings!

Rating rating rating
Can't be hating 
Won't be taking 
Cause this score I'm making 
Needs my rating 
Rating rating ratingssssss!!!

So...

Big Fat Juan's Mexican Mexican Mexican!
Decor - 10, it's great, I especially like how fire rains on you. 

Staff - 4, wait staff give you cars, but they end up having flat tires, that's not great.
Food - 5, for Icelandic food its great, but Icelandic food isn't particularly good, I'll take a draw burrito any day.

Name - 9, AWESOME name, but a tad weird for an Icelandic joint - so I had to deduct a point. 

Cloak room - 1

Fresh properly sea harpooned whale meat - 0

So there you go. 

Thanks for reading my first BIG and NOW restaurant review - it been my life long goal for SO long to get into restaurant reviews, at LEAST three weeks, and it's been a BIG goal, so it's great to get to achieve it NOW.

I'm hoping to get one of my reviews picked up by Yelp or Trip Advisor or the like one day, I love their reviews, LOVE them, and I would KILL have the chance - so if you own one of those sites PLEASE let me put up a review, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, where by 'please' I mean 'I'll owe you', and by 'please' I mean 'and I'll follow through on that' and by 'please' I mean 'don't make me stab you'. Also if you want me to review YOUR restaurant, contact me NOW, and I'll be BIG time semi-thankful, and if you don't want me to, then you're a dick! 

Sure writing a review on Yelp or the like may just be a pipe dream, but if you don't have pipe dreams how can you even dream of having pine dreams? Not that you'll ever achieve those, pine is hard to find, except in furniture stores, forests and air fresheners, and what kind of phyco wants their air 'freshened', fresh air is what criminals come up for once they've been on the lamb for a while, and lambs STINK! 

                       THE END 

*Conc

*Short for 'concluded', you know, to save time writing out the whole word 'concluded', because I REFUSE to be one of those restaurant reviewers write more than necessary, and who ramble on, and are overly repetitive, I'm going to FRESH and NEW, and I so refuse to do that NOW, and in a BIG way! Hence the name of my review site, which is BIG and NOW, and you can't refuse to being repetitive without refusing to be it BIG time, and starting NOW! 

*By the way, after I left, I went to visit my mate Kev in the hospital. He was of course full of praise of me. But this time for different reasons than normal. 
Kev, it turned out, had been declared the local hospitals eight hundredth stab victim of the year (it's a bad area, there's just no money for things people need for some reason, so crime is rife) and for being eight hundredth they gave him a prize of ten million dollars. He used some to break the locks on my old house and I got to move back in, so I'm not homeless anymore! 

Kev recovered from his stab wounds 
and went on to became the actor Kevin bacon, I like to think he chose the stage name 'bacon' to remember our restaurant visiting days, and as such I'm pretty sure he owes me, because Bacon was also his birth surname name, so that was very convenient for him, if we had of gone to petting zoos or something instead of restaurants he'd have had to completely change it to honor me. 

*Ol' Herb lives with me too now. And remarkably he understands EVERY metaphor the ghost monkeys' say. Plus he's befriended them so they no longer have to live in burlap sacks. 

*As for me, NOW that I live in my house again, I don't have to spend my money bribing other bums not to stab me! I used the money to invest in a dictionary, well make that two, I gave one to the restaurant. So the manger didn't even need to get fired! 

Oh and I found out what dilly dally means too - it means to 'not dally ones dilly'. What a relief.

*The ball of cotton went on to be promoted to being cue-tip and is awaiting its next job assignment, it secretly is looking forward to going in an ear, once again proving cotton is suicidal, and therefore success is overrated. 

*The lamb went on to have its tail cut off! Now monkeys, lemurs and girls dressed as catwoman for Halloween all make fun of it. 

*As for me again, I personally spent the next six months trying to discover the meaning of 'Willy nilly' this was because:

- I didn't know what 'willy' meant
- I didn't know what 'nilly' meant
- I didn't know what 'Willy nilly' meant. And 
- I was NOT going to let someone throw a phrase like that at me just casually without much thought! 

The search for the meaning was a grand adventure, perhaps I'll tell it one day, it'd probably be a BIG seller, but it won't be NOW, because I'm focused on restaurant reviews, so stay tuned, exciting things are to come, where by 'exciting' I mean 'exciting', and that's the type of excitement that's BIG and NOW! 

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