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Having never been to a mandatory restaurant before, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but Marshall-Chase-Spiderman-Sit-Down-Now was delightful! My server was very attentive, watching closely to make sure I ate every bite of my onion ice cream. There’s something…intimate about eating while making direct, unblinking eye contact that I haven’t experienced anywhere else. Admittedly, it was a little unsettling that the waiter was actively pooping throughout the meal, but not a deal breaker.
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Although I’m a vegetarian, I had eight strips of bacon placed directly into my mouth, and my hands were filled with French fries. I was not given a plate.
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I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT HERE, ALL THE FOOD IS SO GOOD, I LOVE SPAGHETTI MAYONNAISE, NO FORKS IN THE POWER OUTLET, NO, I SAID NO, PUT DOWN THE MOMMY JUICE THAT’S MOMMY’S SPECIAL JUICE, DON’T GIVE MOMMY’S JUICE TO THE HAMSTER, HE ORDERED THE MEATLOAF, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU TOUCH THAT OUTLET ONE MORE TIME–
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Attracted by their Target-to-Table, all-wood, no-lead-paint menu, I decided to have lunch at Bluey. Upon arriving, I was informed that my waiter’s name was Bluey, that the chef’s name was Bluey, and that my name was also Bluey. This led to some confusion during the dining process. My other complaint is that, despite being assured that the restaurant accepted all major credit cards, one of the Blueys demanded that I pay with, “money! No, money! NO! REAL MONEY!” and I did not have seventy-hundred dollars in cash.
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Fast service! Two minutes after paying, the waiter was back with my coffee, a donut, and a big, snuggly hug! Then, he told me he was “hungry in his tummy,” and before I knew it, I was in the kitchen. When I asked what he was hungry for, he would only tell me, “Superhero food.” Eventually, I was able to decipher from his pointing and grunting that this meant he wanted fistfuls of uncooked black beans. I wasn’t expecting to get a new job today, but I’m told I can’t resign.
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MOMMY’S SORRY BABY, I’M SORRY, I’M EATING THE SPAGHETTI MAYONNAISE, LOOK I’M EATING IT, YUM YUM YUM, IT’S SO GOOD, STOP CRYING, PLEASE STOP CRYING, THE HAMSTER IS FINE, HE’S FINE, HE’S NOT CRYING, HE’S EATING HIS SPAGHETTI, WE LOVE THE SPAGHETTI–
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I ordered delivery from this restaurant, and the food was incredible—best bunless hotdog I’ve ever had. However, once the delivery driver got to my house he wouldn’t leave. He followed me around picking up random objects, handing them to me, and saying “special delivery!” He special delivery-ed my TV remote, a shoe, and a deconstructed roll of toilet paper. He’s been here for weeks, and he gets into EVERYTHING! I haven’t seen my car keys in days, but I can’t stop thinking about that hotdog.
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I’m not normally someone who likes theme restaurants, but Dinosaur-Food-Dinosaur-EAT! seemed like such an avant-garde concept that I couldn’t resist. Although I was anticipating jungle decor, a la Rainforest Cafe, I was instead greeted by an ordinary living room. This subversion of expectations told me I was somewhere special. I was seated on the floor in front of an ottoman, and a completely naked waiter brought me my first course: three McDonald’s toys served on a paperback book. Before I could begin eating, the waiter removed all three toys, telling me that each was “his favorite.” I waited in delicious anticipation for the next course, but it was never served. Eventually, I followed a bang and the sound of crying into another room, where I discovered that my waiter had gotten “a big bonk” while attempting to scale a bookshelf. I was then invited to dine on his tears while he sat in my lap and listened to me sing “Don’t Go Chasin’ Waterfalls.” I left hungry, yet more satisfied than I have ever been by a dining experience.
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DO NOT EAT HERE. When I tried to come to this restaurant the owner shoved me out and screamed, “No! Only daddy can eat!” Blatant discrimination! I had to resort to eating the milk cartons and lettuce the owner threw at me when I tried to look through the window. I will be filing a complaint with the BBB.