(Rhett. This is “inner Rhett.”)
(You know, the guy that’s always telling you not to drink that bourbon when you’re writing, not to tell Nalee that she’s never seen a dragon because they’re indigenous to South America, and who tried to stop you from talking about Bronies and sexy yard furniture in your advertising.)
Oh yeah. I know you. You’re no fun.
(Dude. This is not happy fun time. You’re running a business.)
That can’t be fun?
(No dude! You sound like Hunter S. Thompson’s personal used car salesman. You’re completely unrelatable, and reasonable people probably think you’re on the dope.)
People can’t relate to food?
(When do you talk about food? Half the time you’re proselytizing for a restaurant cult, and the other half is spent talking about boxer shorts, Star Wars references that NOBODY gets, how awesome your new sink is, and self-congratulating yourself for wearing pants.)
Well, in my defense, I think customers are happy to know their server will have pants, and also, don’t persecute me for my religious beliefs. How are customers to know that we’ve got PRAWN OP MOON SEN on special for a limited time at unbeatable prices if I don’t relay the revelations of Restaurantus, the most high, usurper of agency and master of husbands?
(Do you see what I’m talking about? Do you even listen to yourself?)
I pretend to listen to Nalee.
(Speaking of which, if she knew what you were up to, she’d cook you in a Massaman Curry.)
We’re not serving Massaman at the moment.
(I hate you.)
No you don’t. Watch this…
FRIDAY SPECIAL!!! Going to the party at Banyan Tree tonight? If you are, come get filled up on liquor absorbing ricey goodness and get 10% off your bill for checking-in on Facebook before you go!
(You couldn’t have done that in a less ‘carnival barker’ way? I mean, wait… You’re NOT putting this on Facebook!)
I am.
(I hate you.)
--Thai Fire
(Bad advertising, great food. …also a cat.)