Anal-man and I drive up to Further Confusion. It's a long haul, but not too bad -- San Diego to San Jose (near San Francisco.) We like to stop to eat at Harris Ranch. Which is an awesome restaurant, BTW. They have no cholesterol eggs, and excellent steaks, etc.
I ordered their eggs and corn beef hash, with a cheese danish on the side. Anal-man had a hamburger. When the food arrived, it was sans danish, so I reminded the server (who was not out waitress, just a guy bringing the order) that I had a cheese danish coming too.
"What kind of cheese?" he asked, clearly confused.
"No," I smiled. "A cheese danish."
A few minutes later he was back with a single slice of white processed cheese on a saucer, presenting that to me. "No," I said, still smiling, "a cheese danish."
"What kind of cheese?"
A few minutes later our waitress breezed by. "Need anything?"
"Just my side of cheese danish."
She goes, and another server shows up. She has a single slice of swiss cheese on a saucer. "Cheese?"
I am infinitely patient. Besides, now it's gotten so funny I'm afraid I'll laugh out loud. "Supposed to be a cheese danish."
Our waitress is walking by again at this point, throws up her hands, and says, "Be right back." Apparently she's surrounded by idiots today...
Anal-man says to me, "If another slice of cheese comes out here, I'm putting it on my burger."
"If another slice of cheese comes out here," I told him, "I'm putting it on my head. I wear the cheese. It does not wear me."
About this time my cheese danish finally arrived by waitress, a huge confection literally stuffed with fluffy cheese goodness, which we found out later was called a cheese pocket. Well, it said cheese danish on the menu...
To top it off, the first guy came with our check, asked if we needed drink refills (we didn't) then left me a Pepsi. I was drinking root beer. Apparently the Pepsi was a refill for another table. Sipped it anyway. :)