You know what really grinds my gears? Restaurants where you are expected to do work. Last night, the Suze and I went to this place called Genghis Grill in Houston. We get to the restaurant, sit down at a table, and the server comes over with two bowls. Where are the menus? I wonder. No menus. Just bowls.

We are expected to get up from the table, go wait in a fucking 20-minute line, and then make our own dinner. Sure, they'll cook it for us, but we have to select the ingredients and portions ourselves. It takes our server so long to explain the process that he has to go stand in line with us. If your restaurant requires a training course, you are doing it wrong.

And do I look like a goddamn Iron Chef? How the fuck am I supposed to know what ingredients to select in what portions? Will duck taste good with beef? Should I put pineapples on that? How much Dragon Salt is too much? AND WHAT THE FUCK IS DRAGON SALT SOMEBODY JUST MAKE MY DINNER FOR ME PLEASE I WILL PAY YOU MONEY.

Here's how the economy works, assholes: its money in exchanges for goods and services, not money in exchange for I'll just do it myself thanks. There's already a place you can go where you can select your own ingredients for your dinner. Its called the supermarket.