Jennifer

Bella recently performed in a dance competition.  I did my best at trying to fit in with all of the "dance Moms."  I packed lots of healthy snacks for her to munch on during the weekend and was there to make sure she drank a lot of water.

During the first break, I was told to bring lots of snacks.  All snacks that were purchased and packed for this trip were approved by the child.  I packed a nice bag full with a huge assortment of snacks and made my way over to our meeting spot.  I was happy to see her (I wish I could say the feeling was mutual).  I set up some of the snacks, talked up the others and in return received a turned up nose to everything.  I told her she needs protein and she replied that fatty foods are better for her body.  She requested a meal from a fast food restaurant.  (Yea, they aren't giving me a kick back, so, I'm not mentioning a name).

While ordering at this restaurant, they told me that I would have to wait 10 minutes and asked for a name.

I need to pause my story here for a moment.

I always hesitate to give out my name.  It's different and people always have a hard time spelling and pronouncing it.  Sometimes I give my daughter's name.  The majority of the time I say it's RT.  I wish they would just give out a number instead.

OK.  Lets continue with my story.

So, I gave RT's name for the order.

Ten minutes pass and a guy starts calling out, "Jennifer."  He's looking all over for Jennifer.  Walks around the restaurant then heads back behind the counter.  A few more minutes pass and he is back, calling for "Jennifer."  The whole time I'm thinking, why would Jennifer order something, pay for it and then leave with out her food?  Who is this Jennifer?

Another five minutes pass and a woman grabs the order and goes around looking for Jennifer.  After she circles the restaurant a couple of times, I show her my receipt and ask where I can find the name on my order.

There was no name on it, but, guess what?

It turns out, I'm Jennifer!

It reminded me of one of my favorite episodes of Seinfeld, the Chinese restaurant.  George gives the host his name, Costanza, and they all stand around waiting forever for a table.  Throughout the episode, the host will call out, "Cartwright?"  At the end of the episode, George figures it out and replies, "Apparently, I am Cartwright."