When our friends finally arrived, Mickey and I found ourselves united with this gaggle of gays. After an hour, the restaurant found a table big enough to accommodate our party. By this time, I was ready to nibble on the toothpicks that were offered at the door. Luckily I found seating by Mickey and Tommy's sister, Shelia, and we discussed politics and the impending war for most of the meal. The snippets I heard from the other end of the table ranged from "Oh he is so hot," to "Yeah I saw him at the gym today."
I hate the word "hot" when not referring to temperature. Just one of the irksome things I hear.
Mickey and I ended the meal by spelling out c-u-n-t in egg noodles on the tablecloth. It was a perfect ending to a not-so-perfect dinner.