Ugh. Fish.

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.