You won't find me

At Beef O'Brady's. What a revolting name for a restaurant. Gives me a vivid mental picture of an obese, sweaty man with food stains on his t-shirt, laboring over a gigantic bowl of meat. No, make that a wifebeater. His forehead is creased. He's constipated. I don't know. It's just what I picture.

I also have not entered, nor will I, a Dress Barn. Who are you calling a cow? Or am I supposed to be a pig? For crying out loud, people. Talk about killing the mood.