Meanwhile, I happen to love me a good Mongolian BBQ. I have many happy memories of loading up bowls and topping them off with bean sprouts piled so high they resembled Marge Simpson’s hair. And onions. Lots and lots of onions.
One time my bowl came up and the lady in front of me grabbed it by mistake. Moments later she returned and said, in disgust, “This isn’t mine! It’s full of … onions!” I said good day, you onion hater. Those are my onions you’re talking about!
Another time I was in a Mongolian BBQ
stuffing my face minding my own business and I watched two snot-nosed bubble-launchers kids load up giant bowls with nothing but meat. That’s bad form. Mom and dad watched approvingly. I can only assume they were also redshirting the bastards. Yeah, they were clearly on the right path. Anyway, these kids brought their steaming bowls of meat back to the table, picked at them momentarily, then pushed them away. It was none of my concern but it still pissed me off. Man, what a waste of good meat. And the food went uneaten, too.
The point is, I love me a mean Mongolian BBQ.
When we moved to the big city, I was delighted to find a Mongolian BBQ restaurant right up the street. “This is exciting,” I said. Then I read their reviews. Ugh. Not good. My wife proclaimed she’d never go. Dreams were dashed. I felt like a wet noodle. Disappointment is my middle name. Thanks a lot, crowd sharing opinion freaks.
Then one day an email came. It was a LivingSocial deal. And it was for a Mongolian BBQ restaurant in our area. The promotional email made the place look like it walked on
oyster sauce water. The place must be good, I thought. Just look at that promotional stock photography they used in the email. That food looked like the bomb.
Then I looked again. What a minute. What’s this? Yep. It was the same damn place. Oh man was I fried, and not in a good way.
I learned a LivingSocial lesson that day and I learned it well.
Then the other day I was surfin’ my iPad and another email from LivingSocial came in. They called it a “Daily Gem.” Mmm. Lookie there! Indian food! Oh yeah, I am so down with that. My earlier concerns were momentarily forgotten. Did I mention Indian food?
The email promised a Grabthar’s Hammer’s worth of savings, too. Only 9 for $20 in food. Sign me up. Eagerly I clicked the shiny blue “view deal” button. As if like magic I was whisked away to
a dreamworld of magic the LivingSocial official website where, legend has it, boys were taken to become men.
But then, unsurprisingly, there was a wee little twist. Read on for the saucy details.
$9 for “$20 to Spend on Indian Cuisine.” That sounds like a good deal! You had me at “namastē.” Now show me the masala! Show me the masala!!!
What the hell? I clicked “view deal” and suddenly the “buy now!” button reincarnated at $11! That’s quite the promotion. I was so flabbergasted I took the screenshots to prove it really happened.
To be honest, I don’t know who messed up. It could be the merchant. It could be LivingSocial. All I know is that things like this leave me feeling testy. Hmm, I wonder if that’s on the menu? Mmm. Kapura Kaleji Masala. I’ll have that.