Today, the hubster and I went out for sushi. Our favorite place is one of those sushi conveyor belt restaurants where you pick a plate with what you want on it off the line.
I will be the first to admit that I am a wuss when it comes to eating sushi--I don't do raw. Basically, I stick to cucumber rolls, grilled shrimp, crab, and hamburger. Yes, that's right. In Japan, we have hamburger sushi. Think of it as a little salisbury steak patty with sauce and mayo on a rice base.
Back to the story. My husband and I were sitting in the restaurant getting our sushi on. At this restaurant, you can order dishes if you don't see what you want on the conveyor belt. Your order then comes out behind a number that reflects your table so that everyone knows the dishes that follow on the raised plates are yours.
We're sitting there, enjoying our day and talking when we see our order coming around on the other side of the belt. When our order comes around to us I see cucumber, shrimp, shrimp, missing plate, hamburger, crab, crab. What in the hell?! Somebody freakin' took my hamburger sushi!
Hubster decided to go on a recognisance mission and found that the table in front of ours (which the conveyor belt reaches first) had two adorable children at it, one of which was eating hamburger sushi. Oooooooooooooooooh snap!
Before you judge me and say, "But, one of the little kids probably took the plate by accident," let me inform you that the mother and father were sitting next to the conveyor. Yup, that means that good old Mom and Dad who were clearly old enough to read and understand the rules of conveyor belt sushi stole my hamburger sushi.
I know it was just a plate of hamburger sushi; it's not like it was a plate of gold. By my God it is the principle of the thing. Don't touch my hamburger sushi or I'll poke your eye out with my chopsticks, damn hamburglers.
That is all.
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