B's Christmas party (aka the frozen corndog story)

last night was B's Christmas party. the spotted dick pudding made it's public debut, along with a box of parrot poo (chocolate covered peanuts) we picked up on the ship. how's that for a gag gift? what made it better? we put it in a patron tequila box & fooled most of the room!
we brought home bottle of sailor jerry rum. i've never had it before, but looking forward to it.

our dinner was ok. well, actually it wasn't even that. i understand that it was a large party but we pre-ordered our food (provided to restaurant days before) & we were the first group to hand our ticket to the waitress however we were one of the last ones to get served.

the worst part was Z's corndog. he took a couple of bites out of it then told me it was too cold. i was confused. i get too hot, but too cold? i felt the outside of it, cool not warm, then i felt the inside - it was still FROZEN, ice crystals & hard! WTF?

so i walked out of the room holding the frozen corndog & our waitress was walking in, she's our neighbor so we're kind of friends & i know her job is to serve not to ensure food quality, so when she asks if everything's ok i tell her what's up but continue walking to the front desk.

it's an open kitchen, i stand there holding the frozen corndog & wait until i get enough eyes on me & then announce "it's frozen" with noticable bites out of the top of it. then the whole kitchen stops & looks at it; everyone looks guilty, how can you deny that one? someone finally takes the frozen dog from me & we go back to sit.

i didn't think it was necessary to yell, bitch & moan, but i think i made enough of an impact with intensity. shortly after sitting they brought Z a cooked corndog. maybe that was the problem, we were supposed to specify "cooked corndog" - lesson learned.