fulfilled and her boyfriend, Colin, were driving up from L.A. arby and I distracted ourselves from hunger by playing Mario Kart Wii. The Wiil suuuuuuuuuuuucks, you guys. But I had to try it before just using the Wiimote, even though Mr. arby still beat me.
When our visitors arrived, I drove us to Lakeshore, where arby claimed we would find free parking and places to eat. Lo, she was not lying! There was indeed a free parking garage, although—after going around my car and locking everyone's door, silly car with no power locks—we exited to find ourselves in what looked like a back-alley abortion clinic. That led into a donut shop! I suggested we have donuts for dinner. Mmm, donuts.
We surveyed the choices. It was 8:30, and arby thought that was just absurdly late to be eating dinner; she expected everything to be closed. But she's crazy, although we joked appropriately whenever we came across an eating establishment that was closed, like any sensible restaurant would be. Across the street was Rolling Dunes, which arby approved of and looked to have some very interesting decor. We also noticed Spettro, which had a logo resembling a skull with wings. So we had to check out the menu on principle at first. The food looked good, if somewhat pricey. We then checked out Rolling Dunes, which was decorated with lots of mannequins in chairs and flying above us and whatnot. It was odd. Their menu also looked good. And less pricey! No one would make a decision on where to eat, so I pointed out that if we ate here, we were, well, already there.
I ordered a Thomas, which was a turkey sandwich with curry. And, you guys, this was no ordinary sandwich, see. Rather than just making it with bread like normal people, they made it with sourdough bread grilled in egg batter. So it was basically a FRENCH TOAST SANDWICH. Plus grilled potatoes and a little salad. All for eight bucks! Unfortunately, a French toast sandwich is not all it's cracked up to be; it was an odd combination of flavors. The potatoes were great, though. arby, who sat across from me, had a crepe, and fulfilled and Colin both had pasta. Colin had chicken fettucine but with angel hair, and fulfilled had shrimp fettucine with...fettucine.
Since arby had pointed out Yogurt Deluxe on the way in, I asked her about it. She didn't know much about it and asked if I were a dessert person. I said I wasn't really, but...there was a yogurt place. And we had guests and should show them a good time! I mentioned that I had just read about the fact that you chemically desire dessert, you want some sort of sweetness after a meal to round out the taste experience. And after dessert, you didn't want anything else. This led to a discussion about dessert. Colin sometimes served dessert first. One of arby's relatives liked eating turkey after dessert. Or maybe she herself did. Anyway, this will be important later.
At Yogurt Deluxe, I ordered Ghirardelli chocolate. It turns out "Ghirardelli" is a hard word to say. The woman gave me half chocolate and half something else for reason. I was confused, but she didn't charge me extra, so I went with it. arby thought it looked like vanilla. I tasted it, and it was most definitely not vanilla. It tasted like what must have been Berry Berry. She must have heard "Berry Berry chocolate."
I chided fulfilled and arby for getting ice cream at a yogurt place. I forgave fulfilled since she had been wanting strawberry cheesecake ice cream since being denied at Baskin Robbins's 31-cent Scoop Night a couple weeks ago (a popular topic in the thread), and arby tried to sneak by with her birthday cake ice cream by claiming that the ice cream was the Deluxe.
We stood and ate our dessert, noticing that there were chairs and a table only when we were nearly done.
I finished my yogurt and was about to throw away my cup when I suddenly burst out laughing. And could not stop. I tried to explain, but then I started laughing again. This continued for a minute or so until I could get out the explanation: as I had taken the first step, I had thought to myself, recalling our earlier conversation about the necessity of dessert, "I feel fulfilled."
After we all felt fulfilled (not like that), we returned to arby's apartment, where Colin, fulfilled, Mr. arby, arby, and I engaged in conversation for nearly three hours. I don't know how we managed it. We just kept talking about things.
Like fulfilled's...cousin or nephew who wanted to get a puppy and name it Uncle Colin Puppy. His mom said he should maybe rethink that, so instead he got a big stuffed turtle and named it...Uncle Colin Turtle. (Ancillary to this tidbit was the part where he thought fulfilled lived in Disneyland and should marry Mickey. When it was pointed out that he was with Minnie, the boy, rather than pairing Minnie off with Colin, said that Minnie could adopt Colin. I think that's how it went.)
Like the fact that McDonald's ice cream is some sort of petroleum-based product (this came out of a discussion of the wonders of frozen Cool Whip).
Like the fact that, if you are a Starbucks barista (like fulfilled), you should never tell a customer you've made a drink the right way when you've actually futzed around with it because then that customer will go to another store expecting the drink to be made that way and will accuse the barista of "making it wrong" when in fact they're doing it correctly (this came out of a discussion of skim milk).
Like arby's not having "decided" whether she was lactose-intolerant. I told her that she should decide not to be. We tried to figure out why she thought she might be (she'd just had ice cream!), but she was just crazy. I threw a nearby stuffed puppy at her.
Later on, she threw it back at me. I clutched it and, not having thought it until that very moment, I said, "Uncle Colin Puppy."
And everyone burst out laughing because references to things are funny. As I squeezed Uncle Colin Puppy, I noticed that the tag was actually from some sort of bear workshop. "How the fuck did they make a puppy?" I asked.
Mr. arby replied, "Someone didn't tell them they were making it wrong." Seconds later, Colin added, "You should see the petroleum-based ones."
The conversation had folded in on itself like the end of the universe, and it was glorious.
Later on, arby made an offhand remark about eating turkey after a meal, and she explained to her husband about our earlier discussion at dinner. We were even mining dinner conversation for humor now!
It was just such so much fun, passing time by doing nothing more than talking, jumping from topic to topic and making each other laugh.
When it was close to one and there was a slight lull in the conversation, I decreed that we needed a picture of the three of us. Inspired by arby's The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly poster, I suggested we use those poses. With Wiimotes and a nunchuk instead of guns. arby searched in vain for a toothpick to put in her mouth (she was Clint Eastwood, of course), but in the end, she let it go. She also wanted a cloak to drape over herself. I wanted to be in the middle, which meant I was The Bad (which ended up being appropriate since I was the tallest and, besides, I do have the Goatee of Evil). This left fulfilled to be The Ugly, which was not intentional! Someone has to be Ugly, though. It took a while for the three of us to stop laughing, but we eventually managed to get a couple good shots of us with the proper expressions. arby said it was way better than the Charlie's Angels pose everyone always does, so we're going to try to turn this into a Thing.
All in all, Cowfilledarby was—dare I say it?—LEGENDARY.