TAKING MY PERSONAL
DEMONS OUT TO LUNCH
AT THE OLIVE GARDEN.
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Ahem. OK, guys, can you listen up for a second? What? Well, because it's authentic Italian cuisine for a fair price in a family environment, that's why. Anyway, I wanted to tell you all why I brought you out here today. No. Well, yes. I mean, I brought you here specifically for the authentic Italian cuisine, but I brought you out in general because I want to talk to you guys about a few things. What? The food isn't that bad. The people in the commercials seem to like it well enough. Yeah, the commercials are pretty corny, but could we get off the Olive Garden for a few goddamned seconds?
OK, great, moving on. Listen, I like you guys a lot. As far as personal demons go, I don't think I could do any better than the group I have now. And we've had some fun times, haven't we? Hey, Authority Issues, remember the time you and me and Anger-Management Problems got totally hammered at the bar and then pissed on the wall outside that store and when the cop tried to Breathalyzer me I took a swing at him? That was a lot of fun. I couldn't have done that without you two.
Wait, where did Abandonment Issues go? Really? He just got up and walked out the door? I can't say that I'm surprised, but it seems a little bit cliché, wouldn't you agree? I mean, Christ, talk about fulfilling a stereotype. No, I don't think that's why he left. The food here is fine.
Anyway, like I was saying, I like you guys a lot and we've had a ton of good times, but there's a time when you have to re-evaluate the kinds of people you hang out with. I've been fired from four jobs in the last two months, and I don't want to blame it entirely on you guys, but it doesn't help that I keep showing up for work hung-over. Why do you think I'm looking at you, Blossoming Dependence on Alcohol? No, I don't think they overreacted—I'm a teacher, for Christ's sake. Kids can too tell when I'm drunk.
Could you stop flirting with the waiter for one second, Doubts About My Sexuality? Thank you.
Look, I'm just saying that I'd like a little stability in my life. I can't remember the last time I've had a girlfriend for more than a week or two. God bless you, Fear of Commitment, you've saved my ass a few times ... Yeah, the one with all the cats, she was a psycho. That was a good call. But still, I've probably pushed away more than my share of winners, and it's not like I'm knee-deep in the ladies. Yes, I do think that's at least partly your fault, Crippling Lack of Self-Confidence. I appreciate your honesty.
So I guess what I'm saying is that I don't think we should hang out anymore—Jesus Christ! I do understand how you feel, Anger-Management Problems, but breaking that wine bottle against the side of the table isn't really helping your case any. Put it down. Seriously, man, you're making a scene. I don't want to get kicked out of here. No, I don't think we could find better food out on the sidewalk.
For the love of God, Doubts About My Sexuality, didn't I tell you to quit flirting with the fucking waiter! Right, ha ha, I did say for just one second. What the hell are you even doing here, anyway? I thought we stopped hanging out in middle school.
OK, I tried to put this delicately, but I really need you guys to stop calling me and just leave me alone. I can do just fine without you. Yes, I can. You're such a dick, Crippling Lack of Self-Confidence.
What? Now is not the time for a dine-and-dash, Authority Issues. Yeah, I do still want to stick it to the man, but do you think that the Olive Garden really qualifies as the man? It's just some shitty chain restaurant. Yeah, fine, I admit it, the Olive Garden is terrible and we shouldn't have even come here in the first place.
Hey! Could everybody settle the shit down! No, I don't feel like an ass for saying "settle the shit down," Crippling Lack of Self-Confidence; it's a perfectly fine expletive. But seriously, I'm trying to talk here. Authority Issues, you're paying for your meal. I have no idea where that samurai sword came from, Anger-Management Issues, but you better put it away before they call the cops. And I swear to God, if you don't stop flirting with the goddamned waiter, I'll kill you myself, Doubts About My Sexuality.
This is a disaster. Does this shithole even have a liquor license? Where the hell did My Blossoming Dependence on Alcohol go? I guarantee he's got a flask on him. Good Christ, I need a drink.
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OTHER McSWEENEY'S FEATURES:
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Taking My Personal Demons Out to Lunch at the Olive Garden By Andy Braaksma
Traveling Europe in Style With Auckland Dingiroo, Dark-Age Tourist and Critic of Food and Drink By John Hallmann
A Grinning, Leering Skull!
Wilford Brimley Asks for Splenda By Jeff Barnosky
The 4-Year-Old's Workday By Ross Murray
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