Don't go back to ... Arbutus
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So then we asked the locals where a good place to eat was and they mentioned a nearby restaurant. So, we headed over there passing-- let me just preface this whole section by saying that there are no lies or exaggerations in this story! -- a beat up orange pickup truck with this logo lovingly hand-painted on it: "Cletus's Hauling"
Cletus?
Really??
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I look quickly look back at her in an effort to cover my intial reaction so as not to insult her- but again, my eyes are drawn to the hideous unthinkable area. I swear it was JUST like that scene in Austin Powers. MOLEY MOLEY MOLEY MOLEY MOLEY MOLEYYYY....
Anyway for 20 min we wait in this depressing time warp of a place waiting for our food.
The music is like, some 80s saxophone by like, the sax player from Tina Turners band. The people all look dated and depressed, every one of them either severely underweight or overweight. On our way to our seats we walk by a man sitting alone eating what looks like microwave spaghetti still in the round black microwavable plastic dish, those gross too-thick spaghetti noodles with some congealed sauce and a few fat meatballs he is listlessly pushing around with his fork. The lighting are those yellowed florescents that give the restaurant that quaint "isle 9 of Walmart" ambiance.
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In summary, Arbutus = THUMBS DOWN!
* Yes, it is a verb.