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Dude, 37, that's the same age as my mother. Okay, well, not really. She's pushing 60 now. But she was 37 when I was first aware of how old she was, and somehow, it stuck. To this day, I still have it in my mind that she's 37, and that's the answer that immediately springs to mind if someone asks. To figure out how old she actually is, I have to calculate based on her birthdate. Happy Birthday, either way!
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A few years ago, a friend dragged me to Red Lobster to fulfill her hankering for their biscuits. Amongst other things, I ordered crabcakes as an appetizer. We were right in the middle of dissecting their many faults, all of which could easily have been boiled down to "You're eating at Red Lobster, what do you expect?" when the waiter came by to check on us. "Are you enjoying your crab cakes?" he asked chipperly. "Oh, they're ... fine," I answered, starting out in a reasonably cheerful tone, but losing my ability to pretend somewhere mid-sentence, my "fine" came out as falling on the scale somewhere between "inedible" and "you just gave me food poisoning". He was horrified, and assured me that most people like them, and that he could get me something else, and blah, blah, blah. I kept insisting that no, no, they were fine. This repeated several times throughout the meal as he checked back on everything he brought us. Eventually he took the crabcakes off the bill, even though I told him he shouldn't. I still feel a little bid bad about that. There wasn't anything really wrong with the crab cakes, other than that they were Red Lobster quality, and if you're going to eat at Red Lobster, you probably shouldn't complain about it being Red Lobster. There was really no reason for him to take them off the bill -- and I did try to convince him not to -- but he really seemed to feel he had to.
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