kismet

Oh life. Tonight Paul wanted to go to Asuka (a Japanese restaurant in Provo) for his early birthday dinner. And I had already bought an Asuka gift certificate for one of his presents! Sweet.

Before we go to restaurants, I like to look at the online menu, so I won't panic-order and regret my choice. In my search for Asuka's menu, I saw some very hateful comments about how the restaurant's quality has declined recently. When we got there, there was not one other person in the restaurant. We haven't been there for awhile, but it's never been that dead. It was a little eerie. The Hibachi chef was very low-key, and several of the expected parts of his act were missing - like the shrimp toss in the mouth at the end (Paul's favorite part) and the egg catch in his hat. He wasn't even wearing a hat. They only gave us 2 sauces instead of four, and yet they had raised their prices from overpriced to WTH?! The food was still pretty good, though. While we were eating we noticed an older guy that looked like the owner, sitting in the empty room of tables across from us, sometimes pacing, but mostly sitting all alone, hanging his head in his hands and looking suicidal.

When the check came, we were ready to escape the depression. I took one last swig of my water, and felt something on my tongue. I pulled it out - a short, thick, black hair that curled around the tip of my finger. I almost lost my whole dinner. The whole way home I could not get the feeling of that on my tongue and the image of it on my finger, out of my head. I wanted to go home and Lysol my entire mouth.

A couple hours later, I was on the computer, entering a contest on Denny's website, and you'll never believe what my word verification was:



Indeed it was.