The Flood Kick the Bucket in Spanish

103 DAYS LEFT AND COUNTING....

And that sums up this weekend. I went to Fayetteville with Clayton and Jason and we ended up seeing the much-talked-about "Cloverfield" which was very interesting, I might add. Kinda like a Universal Studios adventure that lasted for 2 hours, but that made your head hurt and your eyes blurry from all the camera-action. The monster uncannily looks like a perfect cross between The Flood from Halo and the monsters in Lost Planet, as it lays waste to Manhattan. Unforetunately, my trip there was cut short by the arrival of snow here in North Carolina, which though it is not a common occurance, is one enough to make even the most secure drivers wary. Mainly because people in NC don't know shit about driving in it. So I decided against the wishes of the others, to ask Clayton to take me back home. Which he did. After coming back, I headed out with Matt and the others to go see "The Bucket List" with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. That was a very interesting movie. Not that the premises behind it were original in the least bit. Two old men that find out they're terminal decide to make a list of all the things they want to do before they die and do it. The interesting part was the effect it had on everyone else that was watching it.

I went with a plethora of other guys. Five of them who are all fairly macho, to varying degrees. And by the end of the movie, I swear I could hear each of them silently sniffling in the back. I'm not gonna lie. I was slow weeping myself at the movie's end. It's a good film with a good message and it's sad how it ended. I just thought it was highly amusing that everyone in the theatre, regardless of how tough and macho you were supposed to be could appreciate the tenderness that came from the film. You couldn't help but feel your eyes get a little moist by the end because of the film. It was a very touching flick. Unforetunately, what happened afterward made me forget about the sappiness and turn to a more bitter side.

We then decided to hit up a place called Del Sol for dinner, which apparently used to be an equal part of Mi Casita resturant in Fayetteville a few years back. Due to a family dispute, the places split and now each has it's own name, but the same food and menu (interesting?). So anyway, it wasn't my first time going there, however we went in and sat down and immediately there was a problem. The waitress that had come to the table was...in a word...Mexican. Not that there's anything wrong with that of course. But the fact is, she was not a very good waitress, in that she could barely speak English. Enough to take our order! Like I said, I have nothing against people from other countries coming here to work. I understand that everyone's got to make a living and everyone has to eat, but what the means, I guess you'll be cooking and not taking orders. If you're going to work directly with customers dealing with the public, then your English level needs to be at LEAST an 8 out of 10. There is no exception to that rule. If it's not, you could lose business because of it. Why the hell would I want to come back to your resturant if you couldn't understand a damn thing I asked for the whole night I was there? And it wasn't like I was asking for some incredibly complicated meal. I spoke very slowly in complete sentences, so that way she could understand the order (after she totally messed up the drinks, I knew that I had to slow down to talk to her). "I want a number one with an extra taco and more sweet tea." that's all the order was. And she couldnt' get it. All I heard was "que esto?" It made me feel like converting to the Spanish that I knew to place the order like this: "Yo quiero un numero uno, con un mas taco y tea con azucar. okay?" It got to the point where she had to ask another waiter who was near by to translate our order into Spanish for her to understand it. That's a SERIOUS mistake in my book Why the hell was she taking our order? Why couldn't they have a regular waiter who spoke good English to serve us? Turns out, he ended up having to take over for her, since she couldn't understand. But that was okay. When it came time to tip, I left her ass UNO DOLLAR. I'm sure she could understand that. I shouldn't have to repeat myself eighteen times to ensure that my order is understood. That's damn ridiculous. Maybe in the future, she'll get it.