Stella? Why, I hardly KNOW her....
Aug. 15th, 2009 06:09 pmWriting from, and waiting at, Olive Garden for some quick pre-movie takeout. It's packed here as usual, and about the only free waiting space is an odd alcove next to the front door.
I wondered what it had been designed for, and then I saw the plate covers at just the right height for power and connection, and I grokked it: it's where the phone booth had been.
Always thinking, I wondered what good use could come of this redundant space. "Space!," I thought. "That's it!"
I backed into the alcove, put on my sternest face, and said, to no one in particular,:
"Harcourt Fenton Mudd! Where have you been?!?"
Good thing I only come here for takeout, huh?
I wondered what it had been designed for, and then I saw the plate covers at just the right height for power and connection, and I grokked it: it's where the phone booth had been.
Always thinking, I wondered what good use could come of this redundant space. "Space!," I thought. "That's it!"
I backed into the alcove, put on my sternest face, and said, to no one in particular,:
"Harcourt Fenton Mudd! Where have you been?!?"
Good thing I only come here for takeout, huh?
no subject
Date: 2009-08-16 01:24 am (UTC)Though, considering my strong resemblance to the man, perhaps I shouldn't be so amused.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-16 04:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-16 12:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-16 01:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-16 01:41 pm (UTC)I know, I know. It slays me that you can't get into that place with a crowbar on nights when Frank's and a half dozen other places on Hertel or Delaware have plenty of tables.
OR
Date: 2009-08-16 05:31 pm (UTC)