Monday, March 30, 2009
Anyone been to Sizzler’s lately? I went last night (for the first time in about ten years) due to utter exhaustion after what I like to call ‘the day of a thousand squats’ (read sugar-soaping and painting half a house) Mysteriously, my memory of this smorgasbord establishment was limited to the delicious parmesan cheese toast which instantly appears at your table on arrival. Somehow, in my delirious state of hunger, I failed to remember the health scare that threatened to close the chain down irrevocably a couple of years ago. Sadly, I was reminded of this the moment I laid eyes on a chubby boy wiping his nose and fingering the spaghetti noodles. I realize I should've bolted at that point, but I’d already paid for the meal and endured the simpleton cashier informing me that her day had ranged from levels of ‘shit’ to ‘crap’ so I figured I could handle just about anything. My daughter is nearly sixteen, so it’s been a while since I’ve frequented a ‘family restaurant’ and dined with small children. I forgot how much fun it is watching tantrums and having Creaming Soda and ice spilt all over my Diana Ferrari’s…or the unmitigated joy to be had in fighting over the last scoop of Smarties with a pug-faced eight year old and winning…and let’s not forget the atrocious table manners of which, if it had been me as a child, would’ve earned me a good old-fashioned clip around the ears. I watched this kid with an enormous plate of potato wedges at the next table. Apparently you can either eat them or use them to assemble furniture. The adults weren’t much better either. First I observed an angry mother berate her child and spray her fellow diners with alfredo sauce and then it was a huge man wearing a lurex tank top in fluorescent yellow demolish three plates of lips and arseholes…err I mean seafood extender... with his big grubby fingers. My mother always told me ‘never eat anything bigger than your head’. In Sizzler it should be ‘never eat anything that looks like it needs third party insurance’. And that was just the salad bar. Then came the meal. My friend Aussie ordered the grilled prawns: of which their size gave a ring of accuracy to the term ‘shrimp’ and I ordered the Swiss-grilled chicken which quite frankly tasted like…well…the grill. ‘Did you enjoy your meal Miss?’ enquired the waitress. I just rolled my eyes wearily at her. After all...it’s impolite to laugh out loud with your mouth full.