Here's a blurb directly from a website:
The Shore Grille & Deli at the Terrace Cafe offers a variety of breakfast, lunch and dinner selections. The Shore Grille & Deli is open Monday through Friday, 7:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m.; Saturday and Sunday, 8:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m.
It sure sounds good, doesn't it? The Shore Grill. Sounds like a nice place to take a date on a Friday evening for some fine dining, overlooking some peaceful waterway, while dining al fresco on a terrace with a warm zephyr blowing wisps of your significant other's hair gently across his or her face. The perfect start to a romantic evening.
Or, perhaps the family deserves a night out, away from the typical fare of hot dogs and beans, while tickling their palate beyond a place that asks, "Do you want fries with that?"
Before you load the younguns into the monster truck with visions of lobster or king crab, you should know a few things.
The establishment described is about 10 miles from the shore, not exactly a shore town.
That, and it's in a hospital.
I've spent considerable time in that hospital, and I wouldn't say one couldn't pay me enough to go there for dinner,
because everyone knows I can be bought, or at the very least rented; however, it would cost a lot. They don't serve cocktails, but if I could get a couple shot of morphine with my dinner, that may help persuade me.
I have had near legendary battles with hospital food people, especially the dieticians. Once, I caused the head dietician so much distress, that she wouldn't allow any of the associate dieticians to go in my room. One brave young associate dietician did poke his head in the room, and asked me what the hell I had done. He said in all his years at the hospital, he never saw a note posted with a patient's name and room number with a note saying that no one except the head of dietary was allowed to go near him.
I had become an untouchable, the bane of the head dietician.
What I did was really pretty funny. I refused to place my order for food. The head dietician kept sending someone in to get my food order, and I kept sending them back. Eventually, the head dietician came in and tried to reason with me. You can imagine how that went. Finally, in desperation, she left the food thing with me to fill out. When she came back to pick it up, she asked if I had filled it out. I told her I did. She left with it.
She came back later when she saw what I wrote. I put, "Bring whatever the F you want. You're going to do that anyway"
She went ballistic.
By the next time I was in the hospital, she was gone. I'd like to think I helped.
The next dietician was a cute young thing, just so full of enthusiasm I wanted to barf. But I couldn't be mean to her. So, I acted like I never heard of anything she had described.
"Diet? What is this diet you speak of?"
I've never seen anyone so happy. Or so dumb.
My last time, I decided on a new tactic. I went all Ghandi on the staff. I refused to eat because the food was so bad. Truthfully, it is. Everything is covered with either brown, red, or yellow sauce.
Nothing is funnier than nurses arguing with dietary because the fat guy in the room won't eat, and keeps slipping into near diabetic comas. I'm serious, my sugar dropped to 37. You can look it up, that's flirting with disaster. But it was so funny when the nurses with their squeaky shoes ran up and down the hall trying to find crap to make me eat. I admit I have a strange sense of humor.
I have to go. I need to reserve a table for two at the Shore Grill. Maybe I can get a table with a view of the ER.
While the idea for this blog germinated from a post by www.offendedblogger.com, don't blame her. I take full responsibility for all the idiocy.