Don't jump to any conclusions here. The 'bread basket' in question is exactly that. A bread basket. No more, no less. No innuendos of any kind...yet. It was a basket that held bread. Don't judge me for what you're about to read.
At an impromptu dinner for three at a local restaurant with my friends Ed and Erin, we got to experience the bread basket. Well, I did anyways. My alternative for the night was a bag of microwave popcorn, my couch, and a selection from the Lord of the Rings trilogy; most likely The Two Towers because of the epic battle scene at Helm's Deep. That part rocks. So, you can understand why I jumped at a last-minute dinner invitation out to a real restaurant where they serve real food. And bread baskets. It was very much needed tonight...thanks, guys.
So, we ordered our food, and we were enjoying rather calmly. My friend Erin got a basket of fries, which came in another basket, but since it had fries and not bread, it could not technically be designated a 'bread' basket. Along with the fries came a side order of ranch dressing. Hell with the ketchup...bring on the ranch! We all shared a laugh when my friend Ed and I dipped our fries in the same little cup of ranch dressing at the same time, and I beat him to the punch with with the totally disgusting but appropriately expected comment from myself. Kind of a 'two guys, one cup of ranch dressing' thing if you will. However...what happened next was probably one of the funniest things I have most likely ever...EVER, I say...ever done in my adult life. Funnier than the time my friend Jen got the nickname "Butters" in that very same restaurant. Even funnier than the time I lost a bet and drove naked from the grocery store to my apartment...in February. Way more funnier than the time I had those latex pants...we'll leave it at that. That was just disgusting and I think my children read this.
You all know how tasty ranch dressing is...you can pretty much put it on anything and it's just yummy. Steak, cereal, strawberries...it doesn't really matter. I had dipped my french fry in the ranch dressing and on its way back to me, a drop of dressing landed on the bread basket. Just one lone drop. No blob, splotch, or dribble...just one single solitary drop of ranch dressing. Well, that stuff's pretty tasty, you know. Can't be wasteful in this economy. I said, "You know, I really wanna lick that drop of ranch dressing off the bread basket...". I mulled it over for a few moments, and I thought "What the hell...I'm gonna do it. I'm really gonna do it!".
As I was licking the drop of ranch dressing off the bread basket, our waitress chose that precise moment to stop at our table, stand behind my two friends, face me, and ask if we wanted more bread. The look on her face was priceless. I think I had done one of the strangest things she had ever see a patron do in her career at that restaurant. I froze like a deer in headlights, and put the bread basket down on the table, and said "No, we're good...thanks."
Our table was now in hysterics. I couldn't see straight from the tears in my eyes, my stomach was starting to hurt and the infamous V-shaped vein on my forehead was in full effect. Laughter ensued for quite some time...I think at one point my friend Erin told me she was never going anywhere in public with me again, but I know deep down in her heart she was laughing on the inside just as much as I was on the outside.
It wasn't until we left and went outside for a smoke that all the 'lickin' the bread basket' innuendos started. I'm not saying any of them here. My children read this.
