FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A Bull (Terrier) in a China (Food) Shop JD Explains the Restaurant Experience

Okay... so I get this question pretty often and it has to do with why people visit New York and

they never see me and Jason around anywhere. First of all, don't be dicks-- New York is a fucking

huge city and there's only two of us... if you want to see Jason then just turn on the damn TV.

If you REALLY want to meet him in person then either visit the studio and get in the audience, or

go to some of the charity events he helps sponsor... he's at those, ya know.

Second, we don't really go out that often except when we head to work. Jason does go shopping now

and again but he does that alone most of the time... whenever I go with him we usually end up

spending a lot more cash. What can I say, I'm a sucker for good advertisements... that, and he

always chooses to go shopping when I'm hungry.

Anyway, I was saying why we don't go out to places where most tourists see the celebrities in New

York... and that's at restaurants. Well... I guess it's not really much of an explanation as it

is a story... see... when Jay and I were pretty new to the big apple he decided one of the best

ways to get a feel for the place was to try all the great restaurants-- Italian pizzerias, Jewish

delis, and, of course, the Chinese food joints.

Jason's always been a real big fan of Chinese food... not sure why exactly since, in my opinion,

Chinese food is a lot like sex: an hour later you're ready for another helping. Either way, he'd

made it a point to expose me to all sorts of oriental food and there was quite a bit of stuff that

just didn't do it for me... raw seafood, bird's feet, pig's testicles, unborn chicken fetus...

even crickets.

Okay... I WILL admit to having eaten crickets before, but that was when I was a puppy so it

doesn't count. Either way, no thanks. Thank god we never went to a place that served dog... I

mean, that's like asking a human to eat a monkey. Yea, I know there are places they do that but

still, the USA is NOT one of em. Still, it's not so bad when you go to an American-Chinese

restaurant... you know... the ones where the food is something you expect to see on a plate and

not in the trash out behind a butcher's shop.

So... Chinese food, yea... I'm a big fan of the paper carton Chinese food... we usually eat it

several times a week. You know the best part about paper carton Chinese food? It gets delivered.

Yep... food sent right to your door so you don't have to go out to get it. Saves a lot of time

and headaches making someone else go out in the traffic and the crowds to bring you your dinner

than making you go and do it yourself. More importantly, it means that I get to avoid having to

go to any restaurants.

I'm not against eating out, just so you know... it just happens to work better if I don't. See,

the thing is, manners aren't really high on my list and I'm not all that great at pretending to be

someone I'm not. Jason calls that set of skills "censoring", and agrees that it's not a strong

point of mine-- gets even harder when I'm in a situation that isn't all that comfortable. I think

the time that really drove that home was our final trip out to this one restaurant off of Houston

in south town.

We'd been in New York for maybe two months at that point. We went into the place and got seated

right away. The waiter came over and dropped off some tea... Jason really likes that Chinese tea

stuff... no sugar or anything... bleh. He was sipping tea, humoring me by listening to me talk

about how Mexican restaurants at least gave you chips and salsa before you ordered when he

suddenly decided out of the blue that he'd try to teach me how to use chopsticks... again... even

after what had happened the time before. Long story short: trip to the hospital.

Anyway, he was sitting there with his tea while I went on about cilantro and lime, when he picked

up the pair of chop sticks in front of him and held them up, "Hey." he noted, with that wide-eyed,

joyful expression of it's-time-to-learn-something-great of his, "These chopsticks have directions

right here on how to use them!" and he proceeded to pass me the little wooden instruments of

destruction... my nostrils started hurting in memory of the last time.

Still, saying no when faced with that smile isn't exactly something that's easy to do, and I

accepted my duty like a good Dog. If nothing else it would get a laugh out of him... and then

he'd owe me at LEAST a solid twenty minutes of "restitution" that night... and I DO like my

"restitution".

"Step one," I read, looking at the simple diagram in the square on the paper sleeve that housed

the two wooden sticks, "Take the first chopstick and place it so it rests in the notch of your

thumb." I pulled the two chopsticks out of the pack and moved one like they had in the picture; it

was a human hand of course, but I was pretty sure they'd be able to cause just as much damage in

my paws. "Step two," I continued, "Hold the second chopstick like you would a pencil."

Okay... I'm gonna pause my story here for a minute to point something out: do these people have

ANY idea how many ways someone can hold a pencil? I mean... even if you DO know the right way...

and that's something I didn't learn until I was in high school, humans and Dogs have different

ways to hold pencils-- big fingers, paw pads, and claws'll do that to you-- well... not to me

seeing as I'm missing a few claws... especially this middle one here, see? heh heh...

Either way... not everyone holds a pencil the same way. Now I'm all off track... chop sticks--

right. Step two was holding the second chopstick like you would a pencil... which isn't exactly

like -I- might hold a pencil. Either way, I humored the damn instructions for my human's sake

and, all the while he was just sitting there and watching me with this huge "I'm so proud of you."

grin plastered across his face, making it that much harder for me concentrate on those stupid

fucking little hunks of wood rather than the large egg roll growing in my pants... if you know

what I mean.

So I finally figured out how to hold the chopsticks so that gripping them in my paw looked pretty

close to the picture on the packaging, and I moved onto step three. "Step three," I read aloud,

"Keeping the first chopstick in place, flex and relax your index finger, moving the second

chopstick with it." Right then, something unexpected happened: it actually worked.

"You did it!" Jason announced, his smile getting even bigger. Humans are such weird creatures...

even with no muzzles they can somehow make such huge expressions.

"Yea..." I acknowledged, "I guess so." and I wiggled my finger a few more times to make sure I got

the basic technique down. I glanced to the other diners around us-- I had apparently attracted

attention. One of the little human kids nearby, who seemed to be having no trouble eating his

noodles with chopsticks was pointing at me as he talked to his mom. When I glanced back to the

paper sleeve they had come in I saw step four. "Step four." I spoke up, "Now you can pick up

anything." I glanced back to the kid, who I guess was making a big fuss about me and chopsticks

"...except your fallen pride." I added my own thoughts to the instructions and put the sticks

down.

If that had been the low point of the evening then I would probably not be saying why we never eat

out anymore. Things were going about par for the course by that point, but the real issue had to

do with my big fat muzzle and the words coming out of it once the waiter returned with our dinner.

I ordered fried rice (and used my fork), and Jason decided to try out some new dish... some kind

of fried chicken with a coconut sauce on it.

I guess if you hear someone talking about it then it might actually sound good... but if you ever

SAW it in person you'd know what I mean when I say it looked like someone started with sweet-n-

sour chicken, but decided to use their own homemade "secret sauce" on it instead. In my opinion

someone 'glazed' the poultry with the cream of 'sum-yun-gai'. Obviously, I had to let Jason know

about it... and, yea... my voice carries.

"You're REALLY gonna eat that?" I asked.

"It smells really good." Jason explained, and picked up his chopsticks.

I couldn't pass up the chance to respond, "You say that about me, and for the exact same reason...

but don't you think I might get jealous?"

He'd caught on ever since I made the cream of 'some young guy' comment, "Well... you should have

thought of that before we left." and Jason wasted no time digging in; he can be such a dick at

times... and I love it.

"Well... if YOU would have spoken up I'da been happy to 'stuff' some chicken for you." I stuck my

tongue out at him-- real mature, I know.

"Real mature." he responded (See? Told ya I know), "It's coconut milk chicken."

"What's that supposed ta mean?" I didn't even miss a beat, "Cocoa-Nut milk? It came from the

balls of a chocolate lab?" What? I'm a bull terrier-- we're unrelenting. It's one of the traits

Jason usually likes about me... just usually more often when we're alone... you know what I mean.

Jason just rolled his eyes, "That's probably a ten year old behind you, just so you know." he

always pointed these things out... which is a good thing because I don't usually notice em, and,

even though I AM an ass I don't like scarring kids for life.

If he thought it'd stop me he was wrong... but I DID lower my voice, "Maybe they should call it

'cum-pow' chicken... it's like taking a shot to the mouth." My Jason is so patient... he just

shook his head and kept on eating. I'd finally started to calm down right around then but THAT's

when the restaurant manager decided to step in.

I wasn't exactly sure what he said at first... you know... the accent and all that. I'm pretty

sure Jason didn't either, but he spoke up before I did... which was a good thing because he'a bit

more polite about that kinda stuff. "Excuse me?"

"Yoo!" he said, "Yoo need go nao."

I don't speak Chinese, so I wasn't really sure what he was saying, but Jason didn't seem to have

as much trouble, "I'm sorry, sir. We didn't mean to make a scene." Personally, I don't think we

had anything to apologize for-- THEY were the place serving cum-poultry on a platter but the

manager guy was really steamed.

"No. Yoo goe nao. Yoo leave!" he was pretty insistent and, in a matter of seconds, several

waiters were at our table grabbing our unfinished dinner. Now... I don't really have a problem

with food aggression, but having just sat through a long wait having to learn how to use chop

sticks with no chips and salsa... let's just say that I should be given a metal for not having

beaten any of em up. That's a good thing too, cuz a few seconds later they had our meals all

boxed up and in a plastic bag... just the way I like it.

"All done. Yoo go!" the manager stated, motioning to the door.

"I'm really sorry." Jason repeated.

"Don't apologize if they're kicking us out, Jay." I snorted, and shot the manager my best 'better

hope I never find out where you live' look. It wasn't like I cared that we had to leave the

restaurant... I didn't really like the place anyway... but the fact that they were kicking out my

Jason... nah... that's just not okay.

"It's alright, JD... I don't want to make a scene." Jason offered, resting a hand on my arm.

"They're the ones making the scene." I pointed out, "You don't have to be embarrassed about

anything."

Jason WASN'T embarrassed per se-- I knew him well enough, but he's always thinking about other

people so he had a problem disturbing the folks eating. I followed after him nice and quiet and

respectful and everything. The restaurant manager continued after us and didn't show the same

courtesy-- he had a lot to say... most of it spoken really fast and in Chinese as we were shown

out.

So, in the end Jason decided that it was probably for the best that we kept our meals in our own

place. We still go out to fast food and occasionally to Mexican, but we keep our Chinese in the

paper cartons. You know... that trip to the restaurant kinda started a tradition in a way. We

didn't get to eat at the place, but it got even better: they threw us out so quick that we ended

up with a free meal!

Oh! I almost forgot: dessert was really good too... Jason ended up eating Dog. And, just like

when you have Chinese food, right about an hour later he came back for seconds. In case you were

wondering, he had 'tie'.