Saturday, December 24, 2011

A Pre-Christmas Adventure

I have been so busy with the new job and traveling and acting gigs that I haven't had a lot of time to hang out with Jason lately. So, when it turned out that we both had the day off yesterday, I invited Jason to help me with a little last minute Christmas shopping. We stopped at a gas station along the way in order to pick up some snacks. We were both delighted that Hostess fruit pies were available there because we have both become impossibly addicted to them. The gas station attendant didn't seem too happy to hear us pontificate about the superiority of Hostess fruit pies over all other fruit pies. In fact, the attendant didn't even bother to feign interest. I looked very seriously at him and said "Listen good, bucko. This advice may save your bowels one day."

Eventually, we had to find something more substantial to eat. We decided to try to find the Texas Road House. Thanks to Google Maps and my Droid Bionic, We eventually found it. However, I found myself wishing that Google Maps had an "avoid ghetto" option. We burst into the restaurant ready to have our fill of steak and potatoes. To our dismay, upon entering, we found that the roadhouse would not be open for another few hours. We settled on Hooters instead, which was a mistake because the talent there left quite a bit to be desired. It was all b-cups and bullet wounds. The food wasn't much better. The alcohol flowed like water though and we soon had our waitress collapsing in laughter at our witty banter.

We later scoured toys r us for a few last minute gifts for my daughter. No trip to the toy store is complete without us goofing around by messing with various toys. We probably went a little bit too far when we had a tricycle race down one of the main aisles.

I couldn't find what I was looking for at the toy store nor could I find it at the bookstore next door. We decided to try the mall. Once we got there, Jason made a beeline for the food court. He simply had to have bourbon chicken. The employee where he stopped at didn't even know what he was talking about.

"We'll show YOU," I said mockingly to the noodle-slinger. "We're going over here to your competitor!" We slid one kiosk over to another Asian food place. Jason proudly ordered some bourbon chicken. He was told that once again there was not any to be had. He was starting to get desperate. He was sure that the chicken gods were plotting against him. His suspicions would prove incorrect, for the Panda Express, one further kiosk over, did indeed have bourbon chicken, and all was well with Jason. We went back to the first to kiosk and ate some bourbon chicken in front of the slop-jockeys. "Mmmmmm! Now THIS is mall chicken done RIGHT!" I said as I savored the chicken in front of them. I then wondered aloud if bourbon chicken was named after the whiskey or after the Bourbons who ruled France. I found out later that the name is derived from the color of the sauce that is used to make it.

As we drove home, I couldn't help but think that the sort of adventure is the best thing about Christmas. christmas isn't about presents and cards and decorations. It's about spending time with friends and family, not because you have to, but because you want to.

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