I went to Olive Garden today to get in on their all you can eat pasta deal. I hit them up about once a year when they run it, and each time I swear I'm never going back, but I decided that even though it might suck, at least I'd get all I wanted (I got the fetuccini with mushroom alfredo sauce).
When I walked in the place just didn't smell right. It smelled like they bring in a hundred beagles at night and have them rub their asses all over the carpet until they reopen the next day. Then I noticed that the carpet was a horridly unnatural color. No carpet in the history of the world is supposed to be that color. The only way to describe it is the color of filth. It was truly awful.
So I'm walking down this hallway to my table, and then the garlic starts to mingle with the vermin smell, and I thought I was going to gag. But, pressing on, I made it to my seat, thinking it couldn't possibly be all that bad, and that it was just me.
When my crap arrived I made the waitress girl put cheese on it. She was kind of clumsy with the cheese gun thing that they use to grate it, and when she walked away I noticed that there was a pile of cheese on the floor where she had been standing. I mean an actual pile, probably more than most people even put on their food (I like my cheese).
Then I saw the other table she was waiting on and it was the same deal. Then I perceived a quite noticable trail of cheese on the floor from my table to the other one. By following the cheese trail you could see everywhere Debi had been! I was floored. The place hadn't been open an hour yet.
There must literally be several pounds of grated parmesan worked down into the carpet, going rancid, wherever the cheese girl roams. Jesus man. I know that they can smell that. It was overpowering, even eclipsing the smell of the food. I don't know if they're just used to it or what, but I would have thought that they would chip in and have it cleaned just for their health's sake if nothing else. I was just there for a meal, and all I could think about was leaving. I'm not exaggerating, it really was as bad as I'm making out.
I wished she would have given me a comment card, but that doesn't happen anymore since I put on it that the thing that would make my meal more enjoyable would be Dean Martin's head on a plate. Seriously, do they have to blast that mafia crap for hours straight? I don't think so.
After eating my leftovers this evening, I developed a case of the ghastly, tenacious, supernatural diarrhea. It's spooky the way this meal keeps blighting my life, given it's decided lack of meat. You could say that it had a dearth of meat. But still it haunts me. That's just how nasty that place is.
Seriously, Olive Garden sucks worse than sipping three day old moldy mecrab through a loopy straw out of a gas station toilet bowl. In Arkansas. No offense to people from Arkansas. Or people who sip three day old moldy mecrab through loopy straws. Or people who sip three day old moldy mecrab through loopy straws in Arkansas, in or out of a gas station toilet bowls, as the case may be.
Cliffs:
1) Olive Garden sucks.
2) Hard.
There are no heroes or villains in this tale. Only victims, and those who stand idly by.
When I walked in the place just didn't smell right. It smelled like they bring in a hundred beagles at night and have them rub their asses all over the carpet until they reopen the next day. Then I noticed that the carpet was a horridly unnatural color. No carpet in the history of the world is supposed to be that color. The only way to describe it is the color of filth. It was truly awful.
So I'm walking down this hallway to my table, and then the garlic starts to mingle with the vermin smell, and I thought I was going to gag. But, pressing on, I made it to my seat, thinking it couldn't possibly be all that bad, and that it was just me.
When my crap arrived I made the waitress girl put cheese on it. She was kind of clumsy with the cheese gun thing that they use to grate it, and when she walked away I noticed that there was a pile of cheese on the floor where she had been standing. I mean an actual pile, probably more than most people even put on their food (I like my cheese).
Then I saw the other table she was waiting on and it was the same deal. Then I perceived a quite noticable trail of cheese on the floor from my table to the other one. By following the cheese trail you could see everywhere Debi had been! I was floored. The place hadn't been open an hour yet.
There must literally be several pounds of grated parmesan worked down into the carpet, going rancid, wherever the cheese girl roams. Jesus man. I know that they can smell that. It was overpowering, even eclipsing the smell of the food. I don't know if they're just used to it or what, but I would have thought that they would chip in and have it cleaned just for their health's sake if nothing else. I was just there for a meal, and all I could think about was leaving. I'm not exaggerating, it really was as bad as I'm making out.
I wished she would have given me a comment card, but that doesn't happen anymore since I put on it that the thing that would make my meal more enjoyable would be Dean Martin's head on a plate. Seriously, do they have to blast that mafia crap for hours straight? I don't think so.
After eating my leftovers this evening, I developed a case of the ghastly, tenacious, supernatural diarrhea. It's spooky the way this meal keeps blighting my life, given it's decided lack of meat. You could say that it had a dearth of meat. But still it haunts me. That's just how nasty that place is.
Seriously, Olive Garden sucks worse than sipping three day old moldy mecrab through a loopy straw out of a gas station toilet bowl. In Arkansas. No offense to people from Arkansas. Or people who sip three day old moldy mecrab through loopy straws. Or people who sip three day old moldy mecrab through loopy straws in Arkansas, in or out of a gas station toilet bowls, as the case may be.
Cliffs:
1) Olive Garden sucks.
2) Hard.
There are no heroes or villains in this tale. Only victims, and those who stand idly by.
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