T.G.I.F. on a Sunday

My mommy woke me up at 12:00PM to go to her sister's house in Northridge. Surprisingly, she forgot all about church. I didn't bring it up.

Cousin Andree, who lives and works as a doctor in Las Vegas, was in town for a short visit. We went to see her and also so that my mommy's sister could teach my mommy how to draft her will so that I could someday be rich.

Tiwat, who lives in North Hills - "technically Northridge" - was bored and volunteered to pick me up. We went mallratting and ate pretzels at some shop called Auntie Anne's. Tiwat was working as a ride operator in Universal Studios when he got injured and started collecting worker's compensation.

RYAN: Are you still working?
TIWAT: No, lap bar infraction.
RYAN: Did you get fired?
TIWAT: Yeah.

Then met my mommy at Porter Ranch who offered to treat us to dinner at T.G.I. Friday's. I had a Jack Daniels burger with sweet potato fries and cherry limeade. Tiwat listed his medical problems (broken hand, pinched nerve, slipped disc, blah, blah, blah). Then my mommy's sister crashed uninvited (or at least I didn't invite her). But at least she's a doctor and gave Tiwat medical advice.

Anyway, our waitress' name was Kelly - the same first name as Kelly Clarkson. She looked maybe late 30s, possibly early 40s. She tried to be hip by wearing hot pink stockings. But she smiled a lot and was very charming. Oh what the heck, I'll put her in my database.