nicklaus. palmer. player. they may age, but it never gets old.

so tonight for dindin we went to jason's deli. i know, right? every time we go my old man gets the same thing. i don't mean some of the time or most of the time. i mean every. single. time. now, i will get this same thing a lot but not every time. i'll have maybe the tomato-basil soup or the pasta primo - the pasta sauce is tomato-basil soup, so those are actually sort of the same thing. there's this other pasta thing i like and a couple wrap sammiches and the veggie pizza and the salad bar. but, the point isn't all the different things i will eat there. the point is that my old man only eats the one thing - the pollo mexicano potato.

now clearly this is a mexican style dish because mexicano means "mexican style" in espagnole and of course, pollo means chicken. i believe the proper pronounciation of pollo is POI-yoh. i generally give it the ol' halfass try, POH-yoh. my old man will go as far as POH-loh, which is not very far at all. couldn't tell you why exactly. it's not like POI-yoh is that hard to say but for some reason, it sounds silly to me. POI-yoh. it doesn't sound like real food, so i don't want to say it.

tonight we were each getting this delightful potato stuffed with chicken, cheese, pico, and we add broccoli. no butter, but i get a little sour cream on the side. mmm.... the gal at the counter goes "why don't you get one big one instead of two halfs?" and i was like "why would we?" and she was like "well, the halfs cost $5.39 each and the whole is $6.39." i did the math really quickly in my head, and i think we saved $27! so we got the one big one and they fixed it and brought it to the table. one potato, one plate, one fork, no sour cream. i told the young lady we needed another plate, another fork, and some sour cream. she was like really nice and all "of course you do!" and in only 2 more trips she managed to bring those items so then we were all set.

i chopped off a bit of the tater and set up shop on the no-longer-empty plate. i smushed it and smashed it and added some sour cream and i'm all set to go and i take a couple bites and then i am like, "hey, i didn't get any chicken. give me some off that other part." and my old man is all, "hey, i didn't get any chicken." and so i sort of sit there looking at him watching the sun of knowledge dawn in his head until he goes "hey, there's no chicken on this tater!" as a reward for his quickness, i assigned him the task of getting us some chicken. he visited the counter and returned to the table and was followed shortly by a manager who brought the chicken. nothing like efficient use of walk-time, eh?

that's what we get for pollo mispronounciation. mispollonciation.