Lunch with Brian

Cantina Laredo, November 12, 2009

Lunch with Brian Bullet-o-Rama:

We went to Cantina Laredo and did NOT get guacamole made right at our table.
A piece of chicken from Brian's chimichanga tried to escape from his mouth, but only made it as far as his lip before his reptilian tongue reeled it back in.
I poked a hole in my chin with my thumb nail gesticulating. (That means I injured myself talking with my hands.)
Brian was rubbing his foot on the bottom of the table leg until he found out it was really my foot. I thought he was playing footsie.
As we were leaving, Brian couldn't take his eyes off a man with a salt and pepper wannabe fauxhawk and walked smack into a guy entering the restaurant.
I was deep in conversation with Brian when the waiter asked, "How was your lunch?" I started to answer, but then I realized we hadn't been served yet, so my reply was, "Uhhh... wait... what?" He asked again, "How was your lunch?" I said, "We haven't gotten it yet." The waiter said with a smirk, "I know. It'll be right out." Huh?
Derrick, another waiter, has a cowlick.
Feliz Navidad was playing over the sound system. Christmas comes so early now, I'm going to write a song. It'll start, "On the 45th day of Christmas, Brian gave to me, footsie under the table."