Look, I realize I ordered the fried green tomatoes as an appetizer and then stupidly ordered fried okra as my side, but as a responsible waitress, I expect you to point out this kind of ridiculousness and maybe mention that I’m asking you to bring me a heart attack. I mean, look at this table – it’s covered in brown battered death. I’m gonna pay for the food, but you need to take this shit back and bring me some cucumbers and hummus or something. Also, I’m loathe to point this out, but you’re at strike two because you’re also the waitress who last time recommended that smoked beer that tastes like Band-Aids.