Blood is thicker than seltzer

I’ve noticed a funny trend amongst my (non-blogger) friends: Lately whenever I express a strong opinion about anything, especially when it’s negative, they’ll reply, “Why don’t you blog about it?”

Just for the sake of clarity, it’s not said in a snotty, “Well then why dontcha marry it” kind of way; it’s an earnest suggestion.

Now, on one hand, this is actually helpful. I spend a fair amount of time trying to think up post topics, but sometimes I get so deep in my own head that I don’t see the post for the random thoughts, if you will. Sometimes it takes another person pointing out that I’ve spent so much time whining about something I could have written it about three times over.

On the other hand, it’s kind of a funny response. It’s almost like saying, “Could you please write this down somewhere and I’ll read it when I have time?”

Now, I’m pretty sure that’s not what they mean. It could be that for some of my friends, blogging and I are just synonymous.

And when you think about it, they’re probably right anyway. Maybe I should just blog it out.

This happened last night. It was Chili’s Tuesday, and a few of us ordered seltzer with lime or lemon or in some cases both. (Yup, we cut loose on Chili’s Tuesday.)

Our usual waiter, Manny, does not charge us for seltzer, and why should he? It’s water (free) and air (last I checked, also offered free of charge). 0+0 = free.

But that was before Anne entered our lives.

I should say that there is nothing inherently wrong with Anne. She is polite, and handles our rather large group with a fair amount of competence. Alas…Anne still leaves something to be desired.

Namely, Anne charges for seltzer.

POP quiz: If I told you I was going to give you tap water and air, how much would you expect to pay for it?

Anne would expect $3.75.

To be fair, we’re all really, really partial to Manny. But this is because he values our regular business. Anne, it would appear, does not.

Fortunately, Manny is just as partial to us as we are to him, and even when he’s not our waiter, he can’t help but cut in to bring us refills and extra chips and napkins. You know. How he would have done it. Anne.

So there you go, demanding friends. A post for you. (Just kissing, you’re not that demanding…)