Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Touch My Beer, You Die! (MRC March 2011 Run)

Mike is absolutely right -- that poor waitress was devasted when I complained that she touched my beer. It's not really her fault...I mean how could she know? How could she know that I will put up with the same chocolate covered peanuts/vacum salesman joke over and over and over again (and we do mean over, and over, and over again). But touch my beer? No way, man. A runner who takes as long as I do to get anywhere just has to protect his hard-earned rewards. To the very last drop, we say! Oh well, add another place to the growing list of restaurants that don't really want to see us anymore...

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