Adventure at Sbarro

I'm a bad influence.

Last night, I was complaining to a co-worker that I was sick of all the restaurants in town. He tried to talk me into trying a new place, but in the end I just went with the least-objectionable mediocre choice. However, inspired by my words, he decided to try out the Sbarro counter at the cafeteria. It went something like this:

Mr Smith: I'd like the spaghetti and meatballs.
Sbarrista: We only have small.
Mr Smith: Excuse me?
Sbarrista: We only have small.
Supervisor [noticing they are out of large bowls]: Give it to him on a plate.
Sbarrista: Which sauce would you like?
Mr Smith: What's the difference between the two?
Sbarrista: We're out of this one.
Mr Smith: In that case, give me the other one.
[Sbarrista hands him plate.]
Mr Smith: Where are the meatballs?
Sbarrista: We're out of them.

(Reading this, you might think that the sbarrista was something of a cut-up. I've eaten there and I assure you, that's not the case. He was a drone.)

Imaginary exchange with an English Only bigot

Me: You know, you might not be so paranoid about all those funny brown people speaking their mother tongue if you actually got off your lazy ass and learned a little Spanish.
EOB: Why should I be forced to speak a foreign language in my own country?
Me: That's a damn good question. Why don't you go ask the Navajo?

We should star in our own sitcom

When I was first Friended by revln_grrl (from her bio: "I am a reconstructed Marxist, basically a socialist, with anarcho-syndicalist tendencies[.]") a couple weeks ago, I thought to myself Oh, yeah. This is going to last.

I noticed today that she'd deFriended me. Do you think it was the crack about the labour movement that did it or do you think she dipped into the archives and looked at, well, anything I've ever written about politics ever?