Some friends and I decided to have lunch at Chick-fil-A on South Boulevard today.

What a huge fucking mistake.

The place was packed with kids. Wall to wall children. Some of them who looked as if they should've been in school. But what floored me was the fact that a bunch of those rug rats were there with their grandmothers. What the hell? Grandma is supposed to be the one to cook when Mama don't. Grandma isn't supposed to take little Johnny to a fast food restaurant. That's just wrong. I can count on one hand--one finger, the number of times my grandmother and I went to a restaurant together. My grandma was the best cook. I loved going to spend time with her--even if she didn't have cable.

Today's grandmothers, please keep your crying grandkids at home and cook for them!