Mr NoKids and I just returned from a upmarket gourmet pizza and wine eatery absolutely pissed off with breeders. It's the first time in 4 months that Mr and I have had a weekend off together, where we were not absolutely exhausted for both working 60 hours a week, so we decided to spend our Saturday indulging in an expensive Argentinian gourmet pizza and wine eatery.
As we're tucking into truly orgasmic pizzas and a fantastic red and soaking up the gorgeous ambiance - in comes birthday party moo mafia, with count them 18 additive and HFCS filled, squalling crack monkeys. Yep - 18 shrill squalling brats who only communicated by squawking and squealing even louder over each other, while their 8 moos and duh's completely ignored them, to socialize with each other while getting plastered. No attempts to keep the noise down for the other patrons trying trying to enjoy their expensive food (we're talking $50 AU gourmet 8 inch pizzas). We couldn't leave until we paid the bill, and I'm sure as hell going to eat our bloody $50 AU pizzas.
Brats are running riot around and behind the wine bar, running into waiters, and generally subjecting everyone else to their disgustingly intrusive behaviours. The crescendo of noise and activity occurred when the birthday cake was brought out, and to our surprise the noise completely disappeared - surprise, surprise they were shoveling cake into their pie-holes, when that was done, back to the shrieking and squalling. Mr NoKids being the eternal diplomatic type commented multiple times on this saying 'those kids are having a great time' - which is him being kind in saying they're being out of control hellspawn. On top of that, sitting at the bar was a creepy old dude leering and smirking at the shriekers that make shivers run up your spine.
We both ate our food quickly, trying to leave early - but got held up paying when the poor serving staff were busy corralling the wayward roaches, wiping up spit-up, chewed food and generally taking back multiple kiddy-foods that weren't to the entitled moo's liking (it's a fucking gourmet food joint, kids aren't going to like 12 day marinated capers stuffed into partially sun-dried porcini mushrooms on Argentinean pulled pork hand stretched organic spelt pizzas). Yep, we had to wait while these bessies argued over the bill, refusing to pay for the pizzas because junior spit them up. Finally they left, only to have more of them come in, while moo parks her SUV stroller right in the path of the narrow door. I saw it with raised eyebrow, only to have the Duh give me a stink eye for daring to looking at his bessie and crotch-dropping.
Returning home to the silence, I got thinking on why the hell would they take brats to a fucking expensive gourmet pizza and wine eatery, knowing full well that the kids will simply not eat anything that isn't grossly processed god-knows what and deep fried goop? I'm sure the brats will happily go to some franchised not-Pizza place, and enjoy their not-chicken-nuggets-on-top-of-dough-shaped-to-resemble-a-pizzas. These places happily welcome squalling parties, with specially designed closed off and outside areas for the crack monkeys to shriek their lungs out. Is it the booze or the fact that they can brag to their Fartbook friends that they're eating with their brats at an upmarket gourmet pizza place? or it's simply the fact that they have to subject the rest of the world to their hellspawn?!?