Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous

Whenever I end up at a really nice restaurant, I am amazed at the lengths rich people go to in order to separate themselves from the peons that can't afford $49 some-fish-you've-never-heard-of medallions over grilled melon with a side of some gross plant. The lighting is nice and everything, but really, I can pull out my own chair, and I don't need to feel like I'm destroying the Mona Lisa to enjoy my dinner.

When my girlfriend and I sat down at this really classy joint in Weston called Ireland's Steakhouse, I started picking apart the faults of our entrees to amuse myself. The bread was acceptable, except for a couple of slabs at the bottom of the basket that were stiff, almost bark-like. They brought us four kinds of salt that tasted exactly the same (salty.) The fish I got was wrapped in bacon that tasted like a fine cuban cigar, and I'm pretty sure I accidentally ate the garnish.
I'll eat at home from now on, thanks.