No, you don’t get to see yourself out.
No, you don’t get to see yourself out.
Ok, assuming you’re not kidding here (because there are serious comments like this every week and you’ve done nothing too over the top to show you’re being sarcastic) a person who keeps Kosher or Halal would know what “pork” means because it would be incredibly important for them to know that. If your diet forbids you…
If Jesus is real, He’s gonna be weirded out by the couple who carry a yard-long idol of Him, and prop it up in a booster seat at B&Bs.
you can’t be allergic to lactose, that’s how it’s legal. You can be allergic to milk protein or have an intolerance against lactose and just for information reasons - as something that family surely didn’t intend, I go with the Munchhausen-proxy-theory mentioned above - let me tell you why you may see orders like this:
It’s considered bad form, but then so is being an asshole, which this lady was, so ... eh.
I am a vegetarian by choice, have a few dislikes (eggs, blech), and unfortunately a pretty long list of allergies and intolerances (lab tested). It fucking sucks. My guts have basically never worked right and we’re trying to fix that but in the meantime, I can’t eat a whole, whole lot of things. Even feeding myself is…
I’m not allergic to anything (that I’m aware of) but there are plenty of things I won’t eat out of sheer dislike for the texture/taste/color red/whateverthefuckelseotherreason. I get being picky about your food more so than most people, so I usually sympathize. But when someone refuses to even make a token effort to…
Food, and shelter are pretty high up on the list of things “in this world that you need so badly to have to put up with this treatment from people”
Wuuuuuuuut? Are you suggesting that a parent should actually invest their own precious time in learning how to be an effective and responsible parent, thus enabling appropriate behavior?
This was one of the darkest collections of customers in a long time. I’m going to need an hour of deer-and-bunny videos to clear out the sympathetic rage. And then I’ll grill the most perfect cross-hatch into a lunchtime chicken breast that you’ve ever seen.