What's better than writing absolute,unmitigated(as one of my teachers would say) rubbish in the customer response cards given to you in restaurants? Nothing!! I always go crazy when I see the waiters coming up and giving these cards with the bill. I grab a pen and start writing down my honest views, in some other person's name obviously. But I always make sure that I give the proper address and telephone number of the person whose name I'm using. Otherwise, it's just cruel. Well anyway, I tick the "horrible" options most of the time because all these restaurants have people smoking in their invisible smoking rooms and also because the food, quite clearly, sucks. The fun part is filling up the suggestions column which is present in the card so that the restaurant can be made better. I don't care a damn about the restaurant, so I write weird letters to the owner or to whichever idiot who reads these cards.
I was born in the African jungles where was I fathered by a cheeta and mothered by an ostrich. I had a brother who was so hungry that he ate himself. The fact that I had covered him with honey helped the process a bit. My mother, the ostrich, thought that I had eaten my brother which was sad because I had only licked a bit of the honey. So she banished me from the African jungles and I went to Antarctica to cool off. There I was chased by a bear who had been frozen in a block of ice. Due to global warming the ice melted. I was combing my hair in front of the bear because I thought that the ice was a mirror. The bear thought that I was sending some signals to it and ran after me. I suggest that you do not comb your hair in front of an ice block because you may be attacked too. Life is precious. Life is beautiful. Life is amazing. So, please call me because I want to discuss the complexities of the universe with you. I shall be leaving now. Till we meet again, durarambara!(which in ostrich tongue means, sod off.)
Doing these sort of things can be soooo fun, but I was caught in an iffy situation once. I had written a note making fun of the waiter's uniform and I was looking for the comments box to drop the note. Tne waiter told me that there was no comments box and grabbed the paper from me. I was immediately out of the restaurant and running for my life. My innocent friend though (he had no idea what I had written in the note)stood there in front of the waiter smiling at him waiting for a Thank You or a smile or whatever. He's pretty weird too. Anywaay, he was pretty miffed when he met me outside. The waiter had told him something quite the opposite of Thank you, more along the lines of well, say a Durarambara. He wasn't too pleased to see me rolling on the floor laughing either. He said something that sounded a lot like a Hardasasda(which in ostrich tongue means f*** off) and left angrily which made me laugh even harder.
Heh! I'm so jobless!!