So I went to Montréal with my mother yesterday, so she could pass some tests and maybe get a better job or something like that. She coulda gone by herself, but she convinced me she felt safer with me along and so on and so forth.
At lunchtime the examiners call a break, and we leave the Palais des Congrès to look for a place to eat. Now the Palais is Downtown Montréal, specifically in a corner of the Chinese quarter. Right in front of us as we get outside is a pedestrian alley literally lined with dozens of small restaurants without a chain in sight.
Mom says: "I don't see a McDonald's from here, let's walk around and keep our eyes open, there has to be one nearby."
I quickly put my foot down. We are in the heart of the Ville de Montréal, renowned throughout the world for the quality and variety of its cuisine, there are hundreds of restaurants of all types within 15 minutes' walk, we are definitely not eating god damned Bic Macs. I talk her into checking out the Chinese quarter and trying something new. A few minutes later I don't remember what our conversation drifted to, because I'm fairly sure my spirit left my body when I heard her utter the word "cat".
Long story short, we had boxed juice and energy bars in the underground parking garage. Still better than clown feed.
When we got back home she bought me dinner at a restaurant she's know for years. I had some trout. It was overcooked. The vegetables had been frozen at some recent point.
Jesus Christ I would go back in time and mess up the fuckers who put the Fear of New in that woman.
