I have realized that I have the quintesential mid-ohio valley local color story.  It took place about eight or nine years ago when my dad and sister came down to watch some horse show at Meredith Manor.  Somehow we wound up hungry at like 1 am and headed for the Mountaineer Family RestauRAT, a 24 hour establishment where the food sucks and what the waitresses lack in brains and teeth, they make up for in black eye-liner, hairspray, and excessive use of affectionate pet names for customers.  I've never been called sweetie so many times in a two minute interval before or since.

Anyhow, my sister orders a chicken dinner.

"Sugar, what kinda dressin' ya wont on ya salad, baby?"

"Ranch"

"Awright, honey.  Masterbate?"

We all look at eachother and no one says anything.  It popped into my head to say, "Come again?" but I decided that would be too much.  We were all flabbergasted.

"Pardon me?"

"Masterbate?" she says again.

At this point, my dad is covering his face with a napkin and I am biting my lip as hard as I can.  my sister is beet red.

"MASTERBATE, honey?"

"I don't understand what you're asking me."

"MASTERBATE, baby.  MASTERBATE.  Which you wont, sugar, MAST-er-BATE?"

"Oh.  Baked.  Thank you."

I'll file this experience with things that only happen in this area, right along side depression lady and the K-mart dick under the hand dryer guy.  But please don't think I'm mocking!  I much prefer them to the nutballs in Jersey who yell obscenities at your grandmother and steal your bike.