“Why don’t you ever take me out to dinner?” Ginger screamed. “All my girlfriends go out to dinner with their boyfriends at least once a week. They go to nice restaurants and they have a good time. Then they call me up the next day and brag about what a nice time they had. They make me sick! And so do you, you cheapskate!”
This was not the first time she had had this conversation with Barney. He replied, “How many times have I told you that I don’t trust restaurant food? All you have to do is watch these specials on TV news occasionally to see what’s going on in the kitchen. When you see how the cooks don’t wash after using the bathroom, how they sweat into your food while it’s cooking, how they touch every bite of your food with their hands--and who knows what else you DON’T see--then you’d agree with me.”
“You exaggerate,” she yelled. “Not all restaurants are like that—only a few!” He told her that even a few was one too many for him.
“Well, one more week without going to a restaurant is going to be one too many for me, buster,” she warned. “Lester takes Heidi out three times a week. She has the life.” Okay, okay, Barney surrendered. He promised to take her out that Friday night to the best sushi place in town.
The next evening Ginger’s best friend called. “Did you hear about Heidi? She almost died!” she wailed. Heidi was still in the hospital. She had been taken to the emergency room that morning because of the bad scallops she had eaten at the most exclusive restaurant in Pasadena the night before.
