Dom and I went to Texas Roadhouse for dinner in honor of Cassidy Awareness Day. I think I celebrated myself into a bigger size of pants. Dude, I ate enough to last me to next year's CAD day. Oh, not a good abbreviation. Then again, I named my band on Guitar Hero "Cassholes." Cause I'm a classy lady.
Anyway, next time I have a choice between Texas Roadhouse and well, anywhere, remind me to pick anywhere--even the mall food court, even the mall parking lot. It's not that the food was bad. No, it was some tasty cow. Unfortunately, the "Don't mess with Texas Roadhouse" atmosphere is enough to give me an aneurysm in my brain. The only people that want to be surrounded by that much Texas, are from Texas.
My badonkadonk is not honky tonk.
They had the stereo up so loud that Dom couldn't hear me while sitting at the same table. They also restarted every song halfway through, then ran it to the end. I got to hear country songs, on average, 1 1/2 times.
There's also a giant mural of a bikini party boat on the bayou. Nothing says "Texas in Louisiana" like a swamp full of busty chicks and a snake hanging from a tree. I think I'm going to paint that in my living room. Won't that be a surprise for my landlord, eh? Instead of losing my security deposit, she'll probably pay me for increasing the value of her home with such a masterpiece. Um, a K.C. Masterpiece of crap of which I stole the idea from a steakhouse? Telling you, people, classy.
3 years ago