The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘restaurant’

Basketball Player Restaurants

All right basketball players, listen up. You have well-known names, and some of you have names that make me giggle (I am juvenile). You’re rich, that’s cool. You’re probably also really kind-hearted and want to help make me rich.

Glad we’re on the same page on that making me rich front.

Now – what will we do about it? How about you front the money, you provide your name, and I’ll bring a little creative genius. Here’s just one small sampling:

  • Steve GNashables – It’s a tapas place, with a red decor, kind of a hell-themed restaurant, Canadian assist-masters have their dark sides you know.
  • Yow!, Yao! – A Cajun/Asian fusion restaurant for the Bayou City, it’s Casian food!
  • Kobe Bryant’s House of Yum Yums – It sounds creepy, because it is. It’s a an ice cream bar where Bridgett Jones Diary is always playing on big screen TVs. Kobe, I know it’s weird, but give it a whirl, eh?
  • Shaquille O’Veal – Guess what the specialty is … With a first name like Shaquille, it’s not like people won’t know who the owner is.
  • Kung Pau Gasol – An Asian-themed tapas place. Come on Kung Pau, you were MADE for this!

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Du Jour of the Week

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What’s Chinese for Italian?

Two of my friends and I went to eat dinner at a Chinese restaurant.

My first friend ordered his meal, and found out that it came with a soup or salad. Great, he said. What kinds of dressings do you have?

The waiter said something, “and ranch.”

“Uh,” my friend said, not sure what the first thing was, “I’ll do the first one.” He picked that one because he assumed it was some Chinese-food kind of dressing and wanted to try it.

The waiter then repeated the dressing, and this time it was plain as day what it was he’d said.

The waiter repeated the dressing name for confirmation. This time I understood him.

“Yes,” my friend said, still not understanding the waiter.

“What’s that taste like?,” my other friend asked, trying to figure out the dressing.

The waiter looked at us like we were idiots. I had to keep back a laugh. The waiter thought for a minute and then said, “Italy.”

The dressing, by the by, was Italian.

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Weekly Wacko

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