Raeann came down from Sacramento this weekend to go dress shopping with me, and as part of our excursions, we of course ate out for EVERY. SINGLE. MEAL. The one issue with that is breakfast. Especially on Sundays, there is really nowhere to go in Merced. You basically have a choice of Paul’s Place, a decent, if mediocre, diner, and Bishop’s on the Square, against which I’ve been on a rampage since they fucked up an event I put on at work three years ago.

Dan is a much more forgiving person than I am, and he sweetly suggested that we should give Bishop’s another shot. Even though a year and a half after they fucked up my work event, they also fucked up a birthday lunch that I attended with eight of my co-workers. But never mind that; I was going to be open minded and heed Future Hubby’s suggestion.

So we got up on Sunday morning and went to brunch at Bishop’s. I assumed it would be a sit-down brunch where we could order from the menu, which would give me something else as an option besides the thousands of breakfast foods I’m allergic to. But no such luck. Apparently, their “breakfast” is a “buffet.” Which consists of eggs, bacon, rolls, and … salad? Someone explain, please.

We were ready to walk when they informed us that for just eight dollars, we could add unlimited mimosas to our tab.

Oh HELL yes.

So in spite of the fact that the food was awful and lukewarm at best, Raeann and I drank our weight in mimosas while Dan watched football on two of the giant flat-screen TVs that adorned the upstairs dining room. It was bad, but not unacceptable.

Until we got the bill.

And saw that they had charged us SEVENTY DOLLARS for breakfast.

Oh HELL no.

So Dan politely went up to the counter and informed them that he was not paying the bill, citing the complaints we had been keeping to ourselves throughout the entire meal, and arguing that the “buffet” they provided wasn’t worth fifteen dollars a person. They kindly gave us a fifty percent discount, and told us to let them know if we were displeased the next time we came in.

Ummm … they think there’s going to be a next time?

LULZ.