STRANGER THAN FICTION: RESTAURANT DEBACLES MAKE FOR SOUR STOMACH

Isn't eating out great?

Sure, it's expensive. But when you have an extra few bucks, what's nicer than spending them on a meal someone else cooks, serves and cleans up?

My passion for eating out stems from an inability to cook impressive food. I cook enough to keep myself alive -- soup, sandwiches, salads and the occasional bag of pasta and jar of already-prepared spaghetti sauce.

When company comes over, I break out those same tired recipes that have impressed 'em for ages. It costs a lot to make nachos supreme with everything from black olives to green onions to three kinds of cheese, but it's almost impossible to destroy. Really! If it could be destroyed, I'd have done it already.

Lynn, my best friend, is just the opposite. She makes a killer homemade lasagna and chocolate cake from scratch you could die for.

She called the other day.~

"I'm having this guy I met in class over for dinner tonight and I'm really nervous," she said.

"Hey! I'm having a date over, too!" I said. "What are you having?"

"I'm going traditional. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, apple cobbler for dessert. What about you?"

"Alphabet soup."

Lynn dates more than I do.

But as fun as it is to abandon the kitchen and eat out, there are associated tragedies, like the friend of mine who choked on a piece of steak and had it Heimlich maneuvered out of him in front of 100 people.

Of course, the alternative would have been much worse, but it was still embarrassing.

Ex-Mr. Dreams and I went to the big breakfast feed at a local restaurant last weekend. There was more food than you could shake a stick at, and, tossing my weight troubles to the wind, I loaded my plate.

I unloaded the plate between the food bar and my table. Ex-Mr. Dreams stood and shook his head while I took off for the bathroom to try and salvage my clothing. Moments later, a friendly looking lady approached me.

"Don't you write for the paper? I recognize your picture," she said.

Great. Heidi Nieland, klutz columnist.

At another buffet-style restaurant, a very cute waiter bearing the name "John" on his shirt was serving my favorite eating buddy and me. On our third trip to the buffet, we passed John. He smiled widely and said, "Thanks for coming and have a nice day."

"We're not leaving," I replied.

John obviously wanted to crawl under a table. So did we.

Even at the sit-down-and-get-your-food restaurants, I'm not completely safe. A former boyfriend here in Cape has an ex-wife at one restaurant and a girlfriend at another.

At the first one, I look for signs of spit in my food. It's illegal, but who would ever know except the ex-wife? She never really cared for me.

At the second restaurant, the girlfriend just passes off my table onto someone else and walks past blindly. We competed for the affections of the same man for awhile until I found out about the ex-wife mentioned above, plus two young children.

He's all yours, sister.

I'm going to start making a concerted effort to eat at home more. Lynn and I just started the Starving Plan diet, where you eat nothing but fruit the first day, nothing but veggies the second day, nothing but fruit and veggies the third day -- you get the picture. It doesn't lend itself to eating out much.

But a sandwich sure would be nice right about now.

~Heidi Nieland is a member of the Southeast Missourian news staff.