Golf, dinner, the slow clap and one bad Catholic

So Friday (that would be Good Friday to all of you good Catholics), my husband took a half day off of work for his first golf of the season.  He was very excited.  Apparently, the first golf of the season is a pretty big deal.  Woo hoo!  Did I sound enthusiastic?

Alex was also excited because my BIL John was coming in for the golf outing (and also for Easter, obviously).  My sister dropped John and his clubs off at Alex's office and they were supposed to head out from there with a couple of guys from work.

After golfing, we all met up to go out to dinner, you know, just because we eat like we've never seen food before whenever we all get together.  The first thing John mentioned to me was that Alex's secretary was hot and the second thing was that he was getting prepared to torment Alex by giving his new friends (the guys from Alex's office) lots of good dirt on Alex.  Alex is the golden boy at work, and pretty much can do no wrong.  Dirt on the golden boy is hard to come by.  And coveted apparently.  The golden boy's buddies actually gave John their cell numbers, so it will be infinitely easier for him to pass on lots of damaging info.  Hopefully John doesn't forward them that picture of Alex passed out with his ass out.  That was a classic.  But probably not appropriate for work place fodder.  Certainly not appropriate for a golden boy.

So anyway, first, I determined that John is a big fat liar, because Alex's secretary was out on vacation last week.  Supposedly.

I've never actually met his secretary.  She could be hot.  I'm sure John was trying to irritate me, what with the disco stick email debacle and all.   But let's not go there.

So anyway, we're at this new restaurant.  It's a pretty nice place, great atmosphere, decent looking menu.  They put us in this side cubby area.  I'm assuming because we just give off this vibe of a loud obnoxious group, and in isolating us, they can keep us from disturbing the normal other people.  Funny that they got that impression of our crew. 

Because wouldn't you know the poor waitress dropped something loudly on the hardwood floor and John started the slow clap.  I was mortified.  Of course, if someone in my family starts the slow clap, everyone else tends to join in.  The slow clap consisting of most of the 12 people in our party was really loud. I semi-slid under the table.  And I did not join in.  Because I was too busy using my hands to cover my face.  In hopes that nobody could see me.

The slow clap happens a lot in our family, because that's how we roll.  You know, anything to embarrass someone who does something dumb.   I sometimes wonder if other families are like us.  But usually, the slow clap doesn't happen in real, live public.  And not so often in a fairly quiet, nice restaurant.  Everyone in the place looked at us.

They may or may not have been amused.


John and Alex having a Mike Tyson's Tiger/Hangover moment outside of the restaurant.  After lots of red wine.


I'd like to think that we gave the poor waitress a good tip.  Only I'm not sure because my dad bucked up and treated us to dinner, so I never even saw the bill.  Which was awesome.  A lot of good wine was flowing, lots of purple teeth, lots of happy chatter and laughter.  A good time was had by all.  We pretty much closed the place.

I love us.

Ugh, but I am pretty sure Jesus is mad at me because I sort of forgot that it was Good Friday and ordered Chicken.  Or at least that's what I am telling the good Catholics.  Damn that chicken.  And also, I sort of fell off the giving up the coffee for Lent thing.  I am such a bad Catholic.  I feel a lot of shame.  Sorry Jesus.