Welcome to the Cheesecake Factory!

At least once a week (usually a Saturday or Sunday) I take Mommy out to lunch. She usually lets me pick the place since I pay so we can end up anywhere from Legal Seafood (mmmmm, king crab legs) to Cabana (best damned mojitos in the city and also the reason I was on the train drunk with Mommy two weeks ago) to Johnny Rockets to Famous Dave's B-B-Q (I swear the Feast for 2 is good for about 4-5 meals!) but more often than not we end up at The Cheesecake Factory in Westbury. Now don't get me wrong, I pretty much love The Cheesecake Factory. Come on, key lime cheesecake, huge portions, whats not to love? Well, that dizzy bitch that was out waitress for one thing! I know she probably wanted to chase my skinny ass down and ask me "what kind of fuckery is this?!" when I left her a $2 tip on a $50 bill.

The first thing that you did that pissed me off was that you left us sitting at the table for about 7 minutes. No, "Hey I'm Jerko, I'll be your server this afternoon." No, "Can I get you anything to drink while you look at the menu." Not even a "Hold your horses bitch I'll get to you when I can." But even worse, you left the table next to us sitting there for even longer.

So you finally do get over to us, and we order an appetizer and two drinks. Five minutes pass and here comes Mommy's coke, "Your drink is coming from the bar (a frozen mango) I'll be right back with it!" Meanwhile I'm wondering where the hell the pumpernickel bread is. I look around to ask you for it, and your chillin with the other server bitches holding court. So Mommy's half way through her coke and I still didn't get my drink or the damned bread and you bring out the appetizer. Actually you dump it on the table and high tail it to the bar cause my face was clearly saying "Bitch where is my drink?!?" and when you get back, "Oh, did I ask you if you wanted bread?" No you did not, run that shit!

Honestly, at that point, I didn't really want the bread, just wanted to make you do something. And then we order. I ask for the Chicken Tortillas and you look at me stooopid. I repeat myself and your still looking confused then "Oh! You mean the STUFFED Chicken Tortillas!" like I'm the slow one. Mommy and I eat (and can I just say that Westbury Cheesecake factory has this busboy that I would loooooooove to take home with me) and the nice busboy comes and packs up our food and then we sit there. And the table next to us waits. And thank Gawd that the little girl was incredibly good cause lord knows I was startin to get cranky waiting for this mooncalf. And then I see you hustling back and forth to a table at the bar filled with what looked like a bunch of middle aged suburb dwellers reenacting their high school prom. They are cheesy as hell and your bustin your ass. I look over at the next table, at the nice Latino family, and I look at Mommy and I can tell that we are all thinkin, "This Bitch!"

So I say to Mommy, "I'm leaving this dumb broad a quarter!" And the mom at the next table hears me and starts giggling and her dude is like "Word!" and we are all still sitting there waiting for Godot (sorry - did that play in high school! and couldn't resist) Of course she brings one check and not the other so the Latin family is out with the quickness. Bill comes and its around $44.78 and the tax is like $4 and I'm thinking aint no way this broad deserves $8. So I put down $60. Now at this point, I'm thinking I'll give her $5 but then she really pisses me off. She gives me back 15 fucking one dollar bills! I Hate That! A restaurant as big as Cheesecake and you give me nothing but small bills in what I can only assume was a blatant attempt to get more than the $5 you thought you were going to get. In the future can I suggest a more subtle approach, say two fives and five singles?! In any case I hope you learned your lesson Asshat - Don't mess with the Skinny Bitch!