Why spell check isn't enough sometimes...

Cross my heart and stick a needle in my eye. Mr. B took the following picture at our local Mexican restaurant in Texas.

Let me set the stage first. Mexican food is my all-time favorite. I could eat it for every meal (and often do when I visit home) because it's just sooooo good. And I'm not talking On The Border here. Although I have been known to stoop so low to get a fix there from time to time. I'm talking about the local hole-in-the-wall place where when you're walking in to the restaurant you're thinking this has got to be a joke. But it's not.

For you Texans, you know exactly what I'm talking about. For you non-Texans, get your tooshies to Texas as soon as you can and I'll show you what I'm talking about. (I'm assuming this principle applies to other cuisines in other regions: like BBQ in the south, seafood in New England, etc. etc. Clearly, Tex-Mex is the best out of all these cuisines.)

Just around the corner from my parents house is said Tex-Mex location. It's not so hole-in-the-wall, but it's in a strip mall type location and if you were just driving by, you'd probably give it a miss. Everytime I come home we make a pilgrimage to said restaurant. (Along with a few other Mexican places too.) Maria takes care of us when we're there, because, well, my parents eat there often too.

So when we had Saturday night family dinner last week, and we walked in to the restaurant, you just wouldn't believe the laughter and shock when we found this sign on the hostess stand:



You can only imagine the laughter (full on crying, really) that resulted from reading this little gem. I didn't have the heart to tell anyone working there about the minor translation mix-up. Perhaps I should of, but I wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face at that moment.