well… this morning, Dmac and I went out to get our newest family member (to be blogged about tomorrow), and we stopped for breakfast at IHOP on the way to the shelter.

Yea, I know that IHOPs can be a little sketchy… but we’ve never had any real issues there, so its not the end of the world that we went there. We were seated at one of those tables where on one wall there is one looooong booth bench, and then they put out these little two-top tables and a chair in the aisle. Meaning, when we were seated, we could have easily reached over and picked up the food off of the plates of those dining next to us. Anyway…

I ordered my viva french toast, which is french toast with eggs (I get my eggs on the side. Who the hell wants eggs on their french toast?!?) and before long they brought out our meal. Now, like any sane person, I ate my eggs first… cause lets face it, french toast/pancakes/waffles/any other item drenched in syrup is really just “dessert”. I prepared myself for the glorious sweetness that is delicious french toast… I poured on some syrup and looked down.

Well… Daron and I were not dining alone. Amidst my buttery, powdered sugary goodness was this little guy…

holy god.

Believe it or not, this exactly how the following 8.5 minutes went down…

Me: *eyes widen*. *eyes examine*. *disbelief*. *a little more disbelief*. “Um.” *turns plate around so that BEETLE is in Daron’s view.* “um, babe… there’s a… um… bug in my syrup.”

Daron: *looks down.* *eyes widen*. “um, wow.”

Me and Daron: *recognize the proximity of our neighboring diners.*

Me: *waves at waiter*

Daron: *whispers in waiter’s ear* “Um, there is a bug in her food.”

Waiter: *eyes widen* “oh, um… okay” *picks up plate… and takes the check.”

Me and Daron: *watch the other diners talking and eating their breakfast…*

Manager: *leans over, praying to god that we’re not going to say anything louder than a whisper, being that the people sitting next to us are literally 18 inches from our table*”um, can I get you anything else, or anything?”

Me: “no, I’m really… um… full.”

Manager: “okay, I’m gonna take care of this ticket for you…um… sorry.”

Daron: “want a bite of my pancakes?”

Me: “um, yea, it’s cool… I’m good.”

Daron: “if it makes you feel any better, that was an outside bug… not like a ‘their-kitchen-is-dirty-bug’… he probably just flew in and landed on your plate… if thats any consolation…it was like, a beetle… so, um…”

Me: “yea… that doesn’t exactly make me feel better, but… ”

[and... scene.]

On a related note, we talked about it as we were leaving the restaurant… I felt good that I hadn’t responded like a raging b*tch. I mean, what good would it have done if I had responded (exactly how the manager assumed I would have) and shouted, made a scene, and completely ruined the meals of those other people. I don’t think it would have solved anything, and it would have just caused drama. I was proud of that…

Anyway… so that french toast… yea…more like… french ‘roach’…