If you’ve read me long enough, you know I’m somewhat of a joker. I mean, c’mon, what’s the point in being serious all the time? Life is pretty absurd. Might as well have a little fun, amirite?
This attitude explains why one of my favorite pastimes is giving a fake name when I’m waiting for a table or picking up food from a restaurant. I always get a kick when the host/ess says, “Donner, party of three.”
“Err..we’re two now, actually,” I’ll say, and dab at my mouth with my shirt sleeve.
Sometimes I’ll choose Dahmer over Donner. Similar name, similar result: furtive glances, furrowed brows, and wide-eyed stares. Maybe a chuckle or two. I was Elvis once, and the woman behind me in line asked if I was going to sing a song. When my food was ready, naturally I replied, “Thank you. Thank you very much.”
I’m a hunk, a hunk of burning laughs.
Drive-throughs are fun, too. The more exaggerated the accent, the better. I dated a woman once who was so mortified by my McDonalds shenanigans, she swore off Big Macs forever.
Luckily, Tara appreciates my sense of humor.
So, when I placed a to-go order for a sandwich at Casetta Kitchen earlier this week and she asked for a name, I gave her Dexter. I couldn’t resist, as I was dressed in khakis and a short-sleeve button-up shirt and wearing a laminated plastic badge. My haircut is even somewhat similar to the titular serial killer’s. Plus, we’ve powered through all eight seasons of the original Dexter and finished Dexter: New Blood this week. I guess I’ve had the Bay Harbor Butcher on my mind.
And when she called my name 10 minutes later and handed me my sandwich, I got the surprised double-take from another patron I was looking for.
Life is short, guys, and laughter is good. Be the killer once in awhile. It’s a great stress reliever.
I’m so Excider!
Even though it feels like it’s been a million degrees for 7,000 days straight, fall must be right around the corner, because my favorite fruit orchard kicked off apple cider donut season today.
Now, these are so much better than the donuts in my lawn! (Or any other donut really. Including my beloved bacon maple bar from Voodoo, which for many years was the yardstick by which all other donuts were measured. But hallelujah, I have seen the light. The cinnamony, fluffy goodness of an apple cider donut is the closest I have come to a bonafide religious experience.)
And actually, the weather has cooled off. Better still, the oppressive humidity is gone. So’s the rain, which is probably a good thing after 8″ in 11 days. I wish I could say the same about the mosquitoes, which are of course thriving.
Talk about a buzzkill.
They won’t stop us from hanging out on the deck the next few days. My parents arrived yesterday (three hours later than expected, long story short: flying sucks these days) and love a good al fresco happy hour more than almost anything.
Do you give a fake name when ordering food? What’s your favorite donut?
Mark My Words 
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