Quality Rump

My sister and I have bought a new car. Well, an old car. Well, not old. Made in 1998. It's my third car and finally I have one made in the nineties. I have come so far!

Anyway, we're getting a joint loan. It will be nice to share the expense of having a car. We decided to celebrate getting into debt by spending $80 on dinner.

The cute and sweet waiter greeted us (as opposed to the cute and funny waiter). He had a big smile and said, "Well, I haven't seen you two in here for awhile! Table for two?"

We had ordered some drinks when Rhiannon said to me, "Did you think there was anything weird about how he said table for two?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think he thinks we're like… together?"

"Together? You and me? Ewww! That's freaky!"

"Well I don't think he realises we're sisters! I mean, we don't look anything alike. And we come in here all the time, just you and me."

"We come here with other people sometimes!" "Yes but who have we come here with? Emily! Bettina! Jenny! Always girls!"

"Well Andrew came with us for my birthday remember?"

"Yes but he was clearly with Emily!"

"Well I spose next time we come here we'll just have to hire some male escorts."

"I say tonight we make a point of letting the waiters know that we're just sisters."

"Okay, but how do we do that?"

We were interrupted by Funny Cute who took our order. Rhiannon ordered the chicken something-or-other. I asked for the lamb rump with the exotic potato thingo.

"Okay, but it's actually not lamb rump anymore, we're using a different cut now because we weren't happy with the quality of the rump."

Rhiannon looked at me and raised her eyebrows. I tried to mentally calculate the impact of me saying "Oh, what a pity, I do enjoy a bit of quality rump". Would that establish my heterosexuality or just make me sound like an idiot? Instead I just said, "Well. DAMN!"

Funny Cute went away and Rhiannon said, "I know what you were going to say there, something about liking a bit of rump!"

"Ahh, you always know what I am going to say."

"See! See what I mean? Just like an old couple! We can finish each others sentences, we're living together, we're buying a car together, we go to the gym together, can you see what impression we must give people?"

"I say we give the impression of two sisters who are just unusually in tune with each other as a result of a rather colorful childhood featuring questionable parents, a close bond developing between us as a means of survival. The only two sane ships in a sea of dysfunction, if you will."

"Can we just try and work it in somehow that we're sisters?"


Sweet Cute comes over with our garlic bread.

"You know," I said loudly. "Our mum really likes garlic bread."

But he'd already moved on to the next table and out of earshot.


Later on, I was umming and ahhing over the dessert menu. Sweet Cute came over and I gave Rhiannon that look, you know the one where you're trying to give someone their subtle cue? But with tortured eyebrows and twisted mouth, you end up more looking like you're constipated.

She understood, however, and spoke loud and clear. "So what are you going to have, sister dear?"

I tried not to snort from laughter and ordered the apple blackberry crumble. Sweet Cute went away and I hissed, "Do you think he'll understand what you mean by sisters? Like sisters as in we have the same mother?"

We pondered this for awhile, but then I overheard Sweet Cute talking to Funny Cute, "Hey, they're sisters! I never knew!"

About Shauna Reid

Ahoy there! I’m an author, old school blogger, and freelance copywriter and content person. I love telling stories about life and helping my clients to tell theirs.

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32 thoughts on “Quality Rump

  1. You guys are so lucky! I would love a sister…I know, I know, I would have hated it growing up, but I still wish I had one. It’s just… Ah, well. I can live vicariously through you two! 😛

  2. Another great bit of blogging 🙂 This is looking like it might be a week of great blogging here.

    Hope this new car’s better behaved than Golden Boy! Have you got a name for it, yet?

  3. Well, now you’ve got the waiters intrigued.. cos you know the fantasy every male has about sisters…

  4. i don’t know how you do it. when i visit dear brother or vice versa, it’s usually on the third day we start trying to kill each other.

  5. I’ve got a sister and I spent most of my developing years trying to kill her. Or at least getting her into trouble, like persuading her to paint the corridor yellow when we were six. She’s only just forgiven me.

  6. Bwahahaha!! Oh lordy, Shauny. What are you trying to do to me? I’m sitting here in the computer lab just about turning *purple* from trying not to fall off the damn wheely chair laughing too hard and people are looking at me funny. You’re a spot of light, my dear.

  7. Yeah, my sister and I are about the same age and we have been going out for din and movies forever. We too probably get mistaken for a couple, but we don’t go out of our way to set anyone straight. Maybe for a cute sweet waitress though.

  8. Yet another hilarious story from Shauny. I enjoyed this one a lot because it’s similar to the relationship I enjoy with my own sister. We roomed together for a semester in college and then once I graduated we moved in together for about a year. So I can relate. Thanks for the belly laugh – a nice way to continue the day. =)

  9. You sound just like me and my sister! We live together and do everything together too. When you had that baby picture of you up a while ago you looked just like we did too. I always knew Australia was a mirror universe to the rest of the world – you’re my proof! Well, you and the water swirling in the drain!

  10. This used to happen all the time with me and my little brother (the one who towers above me by a foot and looks like an Italian mobster compared to my Irish poster child features.)

    Only because I was the older one with the money paying for things, the waiters, ticket takers, etc. used to give him these dirty looks and occassionally a ballsy one would actually tell him off for making me pay!

    So gross. We used to talk about having T-shirst printed up: “That’s disgusting, She’s My Sister!” and “Eww, that’s my little brother, for chrissakes!”

    But we’d end up just talking loudly about mom & grandma and childhood experiences. “Do you remember when you were 5 and MOMMY caught you wearing GRANDMA’s bra?” It actually became a little competition to think up the more embarrassing fake memory to tell. Especially if the waiter/waitress was cute.

  11. I’m thoroughly envious. My sister is nearly nine years older than I am, and moved out of my parents’ house as soon as she got out of high school, so we both really got raised as only children.

    We don’t have much in common, either. Can’t imagine going to lunch with her.

    So, that’s my pathetic way of saying, “More sister stories! Let us live vicariously through your life!” or something really pathetic and whiny like that. Yeah, that’s it.

  12. Two anecdotes that relay the sordid confusion that goes down with waiters and gatherings involving strangers collected in a room.

    Anecdote the First: Two years ago, at a press junket that I’m covering, there is an African-American woman journalist. She is with a friend, who, while this fact by itself is really not important in general but is particularly pertinent in the telling of this story, also happens to be African-Amerian. While I’m having a nice talk with this journalist, who is from the Sacramento Bee, another journalist enters the conversational fray. She is a well-groomed Caucasian suburbanite reporter who demonstrates that she is about as cut off from common sense as a perplexed resident of the Tanzanian jungle (who eschews computers) suddenly called upon to write a C++ program that involves several thousand lines of code by the end of the week. The Sacramento Bee lady introduces her “sistah.” The white suburbanite says, “Oh, are you related?” There is a friendly and surprisingly generous silence. I beam a smile to the Sacramento Bee lady. She then, very politely I might add, gives this out-of-touch white suburbanite a lesson in what “sistah” means. And I think to myself that perhaps mentioning Sister Souljah wouldn’t be a bad idea here. But the white suburbanite has difficulties grasping this nicety. She not only will not understand. She CANNOT understand.

    Moral of Anecdote the First: Some people will just never understand all the implications of “sister” or “sistah” and will, despite being employed with a big newspaper, have no cognitive awareness of the English language’s many subtleties both on the printed page and in the here and now.

    Anecode the Second: Tom and I, under the pretext of getting completely blotto with margaritas on a Wednesday night as an anodyne for our then unemployment, go to a Mexican restaurant. Now this restaurant has a very amicable waiter on staff, who we appreciate and have, as a result, been very friendly to. However, it must be noted that this waiter is unequivocally gay. And in seeing two men come in, having witnessed in the past one of them paying for the whole of the bill, he has taken this gesture to believe that the two of us, who are both very heterosexual and as testosterone-heavy as our respective states of geekdom will allow us to be, as an ITEM. He offers us “a nice little table for two.” The coded implication here is that we must be together simply because we’ve been nicer to the gay waiter than most people in this joint. The thinking here is that our inability to discriminate, combined with our ability to appreciate, has somehow created this impression in the waiter’s mind.

    Moral of Anecdote the Second: Some people will misinterpret your gestures as being reflective of some anithetical side of you because you try to be nice to everyone. Apparently, this applies to waiters more frequently than other people.

    So you’re really not alone in being misunderstood.

  13. So what kind of car did you get?

    And now that they know that you are sisters, maybe next time they will ask you out. You never know. Which wouldn’t have happened had you hired escorts, right?

    Or does Rhi have a boyfriend? I’m not sure.

  14. As it happens, last week wagimoko (which, lest anyone miss the point of this story, means “my wife” in Japanese) and I took a lesbian guest to dinner.

    I wonder what Sweet Cute (or, indeed, the waitress we actually had) would have thought that the relationship was?

  15. My sister and I don’t go many places together, and when we do, there are usually five feet of space between us. It’s all for the best, really. Otherwise I’d claw her eyes out within minutes.

  16. I’m about 10 years younger than both my sisters. This created a situation during the ages of about 10-16 that whenever I was out in public with them [which was rare, because by that time they had moved out and away] a clerk or waitress would invariably called them “my mother.”

    I was always somewhat amused by this, but I wager that neither of them were. . .

  17. my brother and i get that all the time too. there’s less than a year between us, so in school people thought we were twins (despite dramatic size differential) and later they thought we were together.

    however, after a year together, some of our mutual acqaintancers still don’t realise that my gf and i are together. it’s always funny when they do finally click tho.

  18. Sometimes I worry about you and your sister’s… stability :o)

    Had me nearly choking with laughter though, y’did…

  19. I visit on the promise of substance and good content and this is what I get?

    This post is utterly pathetic. You really care that much whether or not some waiter thought you were gay? I bet you’re the type who judges others too, am I right?

    You’re just another fuckwit australian who has wasted my time.

  20. Maybe that’s just Noah’s way of plugging his own blog. He seems to specialize in being nasty and stuff. Perhaps that’s got something to do with why he had to visit the probation office the other day?

    I get the impression that he’s probably the sort of person who blames everyone else for how he is and how his life is, etc. I could have easily ended up like that myself. But I didn’t.

    Perhaps he suffers from some kind of psychopathic disorder.

    Or maybe it’s all just a gimmick.

  21. I says it’s a gimmick. Blarrgh. Go have a nice cup of tea, Noah.

    Ooooh, I LOVE Rhi and Shauny hijinks. Sisterliness would be fabulous (yep, another only one – though did get most Barbie dolls I ever wanted…)

  22. This was just too cute. It made me laugh outloud (even the uncouth comments, but not for the same reasons). It was well told, made me hungry and made me wish that I had a ‘good’ sister, too.

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