So, Michelle, Crystal, myself and the kids all went to dinner tonight as Sake’s Japanese steakhouse near the Green and it was an…interesting dinner.

Interesting in the Murph-ical sense.

We ended up with an Indian cook on our hibachi. Now, when you go to certain restaurants, you have certain expectations. For example, if you go to a Mexican restaurants, you expect Mexican servers; be that expectation right or wrong, it’s what you expect. What I do not expect at a Japanese steakhouse is Habib.

Now, all things withstanding, I’ve no problem with having an Indian hibachi cook. And things wouldn’t have been bad had his idea of cooking not been “here let me just bang my utensils REALLY hard on the cook-top and maybe people will think I’m good!” No, people will think you’re banging really hard on the cook-top and will look with envy upon the other hibachis wondering “Why couldn’t I get that guy? Hey! he just flipped his spatula in the air and caught it behind his back!!! My guy sucks!”

Now, I’ll also admit to some not-so-politically-correct text messages to Michelle. Things along the lines of:

Would you like to buy a sushi slurpee?

He’s a hibachi terrorist!

BONZAI!!!! ALALALALALALALALALA!!!

and the obligatory:

Thank you, come again!

Bad, I know. I can’t help it.

On top of that, Logan managed to grab two plates and drag them off of the table and have them smash on the floor. And the sushi was warm.

All-in-all, it was still a fun night.