We go to Ruby Tuesday’s fairly often as an after movie dinner place, and the idea of a guy acting like a wine expert there is hysterical, it’s like pretending to be a connoisseur of steak at Arby’s.
Surely he’d recall his identity after just one look at his monogrammed thermos.
My wife and I just call it TGI O’Chilibees.
Okay, guys. Not cool. CLEARLY the “Do you know who the fuck I am” guy had amnesia, and genuinely needed the help. Maybe he’s a secret double-agent from the Mars rebellion. Or maybe he’s just from a soap opera. But either way, that was clearly a cry for help, which would have led to a cool ‘80s sci-fi action movie.
“Hey babe, I’m taking you to your favorite! Ruby Tuesday’s!”