Nasty little buggers.
Hiya boys & girls - it's your old pal Scrubbie.
Gotch'er clickin' finger ready?  Ok - 
CLICK HERE.  When you do - you'll be taken back to a posting from - oh, I dunno - a while back anyway.  There... you'll learn that Scrubbie - he don't like fish.  Go ahead - click away.  Just be sure to hit the BACK button or whatever the hell it is up there.  I'll wait for ya.
Back?  Ok.  Read on.
I wont go on and on about the devil spawn.  Not again.  Suffice to say - eeeeewwwwwww.  No.  Wait... I should use capital letters.  EEEEEEEWWWWWWW.  Oh - and an exclamation mark.  EEEEEWWWWWWW!  More?  EEEEEWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Better?  Good.  (always here to oblige ya'll)  
You get the idea.  Scrub... he don't like fish.
Today, Scrub had a lunch date.  OOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!  
Oh, good heavens - it was a lunch date with a business colleague.  All chit chat about marketing and job descriptions and interviews.  Nothin' like lunch dates with the Wife when we get googly-eyed at each other over salad and sandwiches.  They're much more fun.
Anyway - lunch date.  Business colleague.  
And - we went to the Mandarin restaurant.  Been?  It's like this Chinese food buffet that stretches on for a block.  Insane.  Tasty.  But insane.  Where else can you chow down on Sweet N Sour chicken balls, onion rings, potato salad and pizza at the same time?  Seriously.  Where?
So, I get there and a very very polite Kimono wearin' young'en escorts me to a table.  
Plunk.  There I am.  At the table.
Oh - sure... nice table.  Clean.  Cutlery nicely laid out.  Tablecloth.  
Very pleasant chap comes over to bring me a glass of H2O.  I ask for a Diet Cola with a wedge of lemon.  The usual.  
Sounds all groovy, don't it?
Well - here is where the horror begins.

I am seated directly beside this big-ass tank of devil spawn.  Ooooglie buggers too.  
I mean this tank is a mid-wall height to ceiling tank that is clear on both sides and serves as a gal-dang wall 'tween Scrub's eatin' room and the next eatin' room.  A WALL!  OF DEVIL SPAWN!  A WHOLE WALL!
See what I mean?  In the pic there?  Ugh.
I calls the Wife on one of them newfangled cordless, wireless, magic phones.
"Wife!"  I says.
"Hi Boo"  she says.
"Wife!"  I says.  "I am sittin' here at the restaurant beside a gal-dang wall of Devil Spawn.  EEEEEWWWWW."
"Well - why don't you move to another table?" she says.
Uh-Oh.  Logic.  
Logic has been introduced into an otherwise completely scattered, ADHD cluttered, Gemini dual-personality influenced male brain.  What the frack?
Heart starts racing.  A single bead of sweat glistens off my brow.  Damnit.  Logic.
"No"  I says.  "Can't do that"  I says.
"Ok.  Whatever."  she says.
Curses.  

See - I am man.  There's no moving to another table just 'cause Devil Spawn is ogling me.  
No - there'd have to be something pretty serious to alert the staff that I needed to move.
Structural damage to the building that I noticed, perhaps?  Structural damage that could potentially cause death?  Even that - borders on not being a good reason to move.  No.  I am stuck there.  No getting around it.  
Deep breath.
Oops - here comes the colleague.  Can't do nothin' about it now.  
I stand up.  Extend my hand and take firm grip of his.  We swap greetings.  We sit.  
I very carefully turn 17.5 degrees to the right so that Devil Spawn is not in my direct line of vision.
 
The colleague doesn't notice.  Phew.
This, my friends, is how I must endure the next 120 minutes.
Ugh.