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You Can't Take Me Anywhere Nice (Story Time)

I've realised something in the past few days, you can't take me anywhere nice. I wouldn't describe myself as a clutz but take me to a swanky restaurant and I will find a (or several) way(s) to embarrass myself.
This is as close as
I should get too fine
dining from now on.
Starting from when I sit down and look at the menu. I can't pronounce a single thing on there! Me being me, I won't admit I can't do something so I just sit there and butcher the name. That or politely point at the menu ... 

Whilst fine dining I get that you gotta talk right proper init. So I'll make an effort to shake my londonness (link post). I order and get right chuffed at my self for pronouncing the t's when my brother turned to me and said I sounded like a patronising dick #sorrynotsorry.  

You're probably sitting there hoping you never go out to dinner with me, well it gets worse... 
I always wear my glasses until it comes to sitting down, not sure why but my eyes get funny. So I take them off and place them on the table, then the waitor/ress brings the plates over and in a mad dash to clear room for them (as I so desperately need to be liked)  I end up dashing them across the room. Yep, across the room... and that is before I have a drink. 

There you have it, a painfully honest description of me fine dining. 

Please comment bellow of you have had any similar experiences, there must be someone else! 

Thanks for reading, 
Mario El :p