As a special sort of celebration, because of some new work commitments for both of us, and the fact that we've both survived the last week (which has been no small feat, mind you), my husband brought home Chinese food and I baked a mini pecan pie since I was already baking a big one to take to Thanksgiving (that and 4 batches of buttermilk rolls...I am not making rolls again for a long time).

We don't get Chinese food very often, so it was kind of a big deal. I asked for my favorite, broccoli with beef, and le husband got what he wanted. When he got home (20 minutes away from the Chinese place), we took the cartons out, all excited like, and lo and behold, my broccoli beef looked suspiciously like lemon chicken.

Now, I enjoy lemon chicken as much as the next girl, but it looks nothing like broccoli beef. Granted, they had lined broccoli up along the sides so that was kind of like broccoli beef, but that meat was most definitely chicken. Fried chicken, which I avoid like the plague since I'm trying to be really good to save room for Thursday.

My husband is not one to stand by and just let things like that be. He decided to call and let them know, just in case someone else ended up with our broccoli beef. He calls, and the lady says, "No. That's what our beef looks like." He says, "It's white and it's been deep fried." It also looked exactly like the meat in his sweet and sour chicken, which I would hope was chicken and not beef. Anyhow, the lady on the phone insisted that it was, indeed, chicken, and then she did the rudest thing I can think of. She laughed at my husband.

Uh oh.

Yeah, you probably should avoid doing that. It's not a good idea. He hung up the phone and was annoyed the whole rest of the night, and I now I have to go kick some little old lady's behind.

Not really, but a whole Kung-Fu movie just played itself in my head, only it had me and the lady at the Chinese restaurant instead of David Carradine and whoever else was in the real movies.

It made it very hard to enjoy our dinner, as we felt mocked. The lemon chicken was pretty stinking delicious, though. Which is good, because I will be eating it for dinner tonight, since they give out a truckload. I was just sad that the lady felt like she had to mock my husband for his suspected inability to recognize chicken/beef, when this WAS chicken. It was totally chicken. In a lemony sauce, which is nothing like broccoli beef sauce. Turds. How can you question our ability, as people of girth, to differentiate between meats? We've got that down. It's the vegetable area where things get a little hazy.

Regardless, we then proceeded to eat the finest pecan pie the world has ever known. So that was good.

But still. Urgh.