Why Pasta Pomodoro totally sucks at being a restaurant

Hey kids, JMC here to tell you a cautionary tale: don't go to fucking Pasta fucking Pomodoro.

A few weeks back it was my girlfriend's birthday. She wasn't too happy about it either. You know, getting older can kinda make people grumpy. So the day was pretty much doomed to begin with because when my girlfriend is unhappy it makes the grim reaper look like a kitten and going to war in Iraq sound pretty fun.

We spent most of the day hungover having been to a pretty great wedding the night before, and never ended up doing much. I kept asking her (for weeks ahead of time) what she wanted to do and she never came up with anything. So finally here we are on the big day and we're having breakfast wraps at Starbucks and sitting on the couch most of the day. I took the day off work for this?

So dinner time rolls around and of course she hasn't decided where to go and doesn't want me to take her out to a nice restaurant because she's not feeling that great and is unhappy so why waste a nice dinner? Fuck me with a blunt object. Next thing I know she decides we're going to Pasta Pomodoro because she has a coupon for a free appetizer or dessert.

I fucking hate Pasta Pomodoro. The food is only okay, the service is mediocre, and the ambiance is nothing to write home about. And then it costs 40 bucks. But that's where we're going because she for some reason likes it. It must be the bread. The bread and that dipping sauce are actually pretty bomb.

So we drive out to PP (I'm calling it that from now on because it's less typing), and get a table. Luckily there was no wait. If there was a wait I probably would have jumped in front of a car. We sit down, eat the bread (best part of the night) and peruse the menu. We choose our entrees and then pick the polenta for our free appetizer. The waitress isn't nearly cute enough to get away with being as annoying as she is but manages to apparently take our order correctly. Of course I think we were sitting there for like five minutes before we had waters. Fucking PP. So we're sitting there and not really talking about anything and finally the food comes, except they fucked up and the polenta doesn't come out first. It is an appetizer, it is supposed to keep us from eating our napkins while we wait for the real food, it should be out there first. PP sucks.

They bring the polenta and the main course at the same time, or maybe the polenta was after the main course, either way it was fucked up. I'm at this point ready to go on Yelp and give this shit-hole zero stars or however you rank shit on Yelp. So my dinner is fine but of course there's something wrong with hers. She, in an effort to always make life more difficult, of course asked for her shit to be prepared in some special way, extra creamy sauce or something. And they gave her regular creamy sauce. She fucking sends it back. So we start eating the polenta and my food. My food is fine, but I could probably make pasta that's just as good at home for 12 cents. We try the polenta. It's bland and not very good but fine. The girlfriend decides there's something wrong with it and it's awful and horrible and can't be right. There's absolutely nothing wrong with this polenta except for the fact that it's polenta from PP and PP pretty much sucks so of course the polenta is going to be mediocre. But she's convinced there's something wrong with it and fucking sends it back. They offer to make it again and she declines. Her food comes back and this time it's right. She then eats two thirds of her dinner and decides to take the rest home.

So the waitress acts like a ditz, sort of apologizes for fucking up our whole dinner, and then sends the manager over. She also is not cute enough. She offers us free dessert in place of the crappy appetizer. The girlfriend declines. She then asks the manager to take something off the bill, and the manager says her entree will be free. Great, we can get the fuck out of this shitty restaurant. But wait, where's the leftover pasta? The waitress has taken it away instead of bringing a box. My girlfriend is on the verge of tears. I am ready to find a steak knife and tear open my abdomen. The waitress says she must have thrown it out, but she'll make us a new entree. Then she goes in the back and comes back out with the leftovers in a box. Its a miracle! She didn't throw it out after all. She probably just took it out of the garbage. And then spit in it. And got Karl with a K to jerk off into it. And then Karl with a K spit in it too.

So I pay the bill, which at this point is like 10 bucks since its just for one entree, score, and we get the fuck out. Great fucking birthday. Fuck you Pasta Pomodoro.