I might have known that La had a new installment up!
Here's a free cooking tip for the masses: NEVER assume that one of your children hasn't broken the seal for the can of chocolate frosting in your pantry, causing said chocolate frosting to go bad because it should have been refrigerated, and thus rendering you "frostingless" for the warm cake that just came from the oven.
However.
If you find yourself in such a predicament, the internet is CHOCK FULL of yummy "chocolate glaze" recipes that are WAAAAAY better than the store bought frosting anyway. If you use one of these recipes, your husband will think you are the best cook ever.
FYI.
Now.
On to the story.
I took a bite and fell to the floor. Delirious and love drunk. Kind of. At any rate, I was unable to separate myself from The Cookie. It must’ve been an inch thick. An inch thick! I’d never seen cookies like that before. So I took another bite, professed my love for The Cookie to anyone and everyone who would listen, and then I took another picture. Lovingly. To preserve the moment.
Well, SNAP!!! Here I was going on and on about my cake, and you were talking about COOKIES. I must have had this installment confused with another TR installment about cake. Or was it Tonga Toast? It was some kind of food - I know that much.
Feel free to insert the Mission Impossible theme here.
Come on, V! You know it..."da da du da, da da du da, da da du da..."
Did that help?
Heloisa Helpful: (confused smile) You have-a the coffee and you push it….you push it (complete with hand gestures)… and putting the cup over this and you are to be having the coffee. Yes?
That sounded JUST LIKE HER!
And with that, my husband turned and walked away a defeated man. A man unable to break the language barrier, even with his superior hand gestures, lip curls and volume control. A man convinced that in all of Orlando, there is not a single member of housekeeping who speaks decent English and is capable of bringing him a little regular coffee.
Bless him. And he may be convinced that in all of Orlando, there is not a single member of housekeeping who speaks decent English, because in all of Orlando, there is not a single member of housekeeping who speaks decent English. NOHousekeeperswhodon'tspeakEnglish.
We're thankful for those housekeepers because they keep our vacation digs lookin' good. But not only do you not need to ask them for regular coffee, NEVER turn them away explaining that you'll be leaving the room in about 30 minutes and they can come back then.
They may nod their heads and smile, and you may think they understood you. But they're gone. For the day. And you're outta luck. You better plan on making your own dadgum bed when you get back from the parks at midnight.
You thought I was gonna say “Just bring us some tap water”, didn’t you? If DH would’ve been the one answering the question, he would have. In a heartbeat. But I happen to have a little class. So instead of telling him to bring us a lil sumpm sumpm from the bathroom faucet, I clear my throat, sit up straight and say “We’ll have the Fuji.”
Are you sayin' I have NO CLASS? Because I ALWAYS go for the tap water. Always. Unless I'm in Florida and the tap water tastes like sulphur. You tell your cooler than cool DH that I've got his back. I don't need no $15 water to prove I've got class.
I actually need class to prove that.
Mr. Fancy Pants: You mean you’ll have FIJI?
That's the sign of a bad waiter. He knew EXACTLY what you were talking about. He just wanted to rub it in. Did you remind him you were actually DINING at the restaurant and he just worked there? It ain't like he was Emeril or something.
Speaking of messed up drink orders, once back in the day, I may or may not have waited tables during college. A couple came in and wanted two glasses of White Zinfandel. And they were served. After their dinner, they were trying to convince the manager that their service was bad and they needed something free. He didn't bite. So to add merit to their case, they said, "And THEN we ordered WHITE Zinfandel, and we were brought this PINK stuff!"
Case closed.
DH: I’m not doin’ it. You already called it Fuji. We have to pretend at least one of us has some class. Now get your elbows off the table and remember to start on the outside. And tell the kids to stop doing the backstroke in the lilly pad pond.
The ENTIRE water story had me DED. Totally and completely. Girl, you sure know how to bring the funny. Which is good. Cause no one else is.
Hey ZZUB!!
Yep, they have lanyards, pins, the whole nine yards. The carts even look the same. Which prompted my husband to remark “They KNOW they’re some copying jokers.”
Which made me laugh. Harder than it probably should have. But I love a little truth with my humor. And DH can bring it and bring it good when he wants to.
Your DH sounds like a good time. And he ain't lyin'. That cart looks like it came STRAIGHT OFF of Main Street USA. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
There aren’t too many things that scream vacation to me more than a little night swimming. When my brother, my sister and I were little and our parents would take us on vacation, the hotel pool was always where it was at. It didn’t matter where we were, as long as the hotel or campground had a pool, we thought it was big time. Especially at night. Because that was something we never got to do at home. Swimming at night was unheard of back in the land of school and responsibilities. I remember many nights spent watching the glow of the lights underneath the rippling water and feeling the chill in the air and thinking how downright cool vacation was. Fast forward in time to two kids who look amazingly similar to that little girl in the pool all those years ago and love it just as much as she did. Probably for some of the same reasons. But mostly, I’m sure, because it was just downright fun. Plain and simple. They were eating it up with a spoon and just enjoying the heck out of themselves.
Great paragraph, La. I think one of your greatest writing gifts, in addition to being HILARIOUSLY funny, is painting a word picture that's as clear as a bell. I can see, feel and experience the childhood joy of a vacation night swim through your words. Great writing, my friend.
Did you hear what I heard? Did he just say 2505?!
That’s OUR room number!
And in that instant, in that moment of realization, the doors slam shut.
Well, I'm with the rest of your fans. What a cliffhanger!! Did they go into your room? Did they touch any of your stuff? (Eeeeew!) Did you head them off at the pass?
Don't keep us hangin' too long. We need the answer, and we need more of your awesome writing.
I LOVED this installment. Loved it. It made me laugh so hard I got an ab workout. Keep it comin', girl. We're thankful your telling us your tale.
. My two yo decided to make up a new fun game this morning... hide from Mommy and watch her lose her mind looking all over the house for me. I can't imagine what all 4 can get into.
And you read my TR? Holy cow, that's a lot of reading. I'm glad you liked it!!!
Congrats - Patrick is adorable! 
Your last TR is still one of my faves - glad to hear a new generation of DISers are chekcing it out. 
Not just any cookies, either, but cookies that are, well, the bomb diggity. And a container of milk that my 16 year old would down in about 3.2592 seconds (whether it was covered in plastic wrap or not). All thanks to a housekeeping staff who has evidently been better trained on the operating instructions for the coffee machine than the English language.
