Restaurant Review: Vien Dong

It’s me again! I’m avoiding scraping the fence today, but since I am an excellent reviewer of things I hate and things I like, I thought I’d sit down tell you kids about my new scary/favorite restaurant instead. I’ve been wanting to write up a review of Vien Dong ever since we ate there the first time, and not just because it has the word “Dong” in the name. Okay, well maybe a little bit because of that. But mostly because I want my Spokane friends to know about it. Let’s get to it, shall we?

The first time we went, my old man picked me up during the lunch hour because I was going batshit crazy in the house and he’s a good husband like that. He wanted to check out some development properties in a crappy part of town (East Sprague), and I was along for the ride, wanting to see some cracked out hookers. We even got out and walked around. I was hoping to get mistaken for a hooker, but no luck. I guess Mitch would be paying for my meal on this day.

We passed a busy looking Vietnamese/Chinese restaurant and if there’s one thing living overseas has taught me, never pass up an Asian restaurant. Vien Dong looked a little shabby and run down, but it turned out to be delicious and cheap, with massive portion sizes. In other words, made for me. I had a giant plate of shrimp, chicken, and veggies. When I say giant, I mean, at least half the food was still on the plate when I was finished eating. Mitch had some stuff with other stuff on it and I think some sauce? Crack restaurant reviewer, amiright?


The decor is hideous, pink and forest green paint, tables and chairs from a bygone era, and lighting from a shock treatment waiting room from the 60s,  but if you’re looking for better-than-good, cheap Asian eats, Vien Dong is your place. We went again the other night. This is when we discovered they don’t serve booze, but you could probably borrow a sip from someone’s paper bag out on the street if you’re desperate.

Total cost for two of us plus beautifully hand-rolled spring rolls was around $20. We sat by the window so I might catch a hooker sighting, but alas, there was no free entertainment to be had. Boo.



1730 E Sprague Ave

Spokane, WA 99202



Tuesday thru Saturday

10:00 to 8:00

Sunday 10:00 to 7:00

Closed Monday




So, remember my last blog post, where I was all, “maybe I’ll get sacked”? Welllllll….I got sacked. Something about how they couldn’t afford to keep me on, what with all my benefits or some such. Like I don’t hear that all the time from my husband. Anyway, I am no longer making any money with which to buy a burlap bag for my cat.


I’ve been actively looking for work, because with my kids’ activities, it’s just me and the pets until around 4:30 every day, and that’s boring as shit. My dream job would be a bed tester or a wine taster. It’d be nice to get paid for something I do every day for free, ya know? I’ve been doing things like to keep busy though, like, I don’t know, trimming the lawn with nail clippers followed by a good two hours of staring at the ceiling (Isn’t it darling how last week I was whining about working and this week I’m whining about unemployment? Sorry fellas, I’m already taken).

Today I cleaned out the chicken coop and I’ve never done that in my life. I also folded Mitch’s underwear. Who folds underwear? Tomorrow I’m going to scrape the fence to prep it for whitewashing. By the time the kids get home from school, it should be ready for me to Tom Sawyer them into painting it. Oh, I’ll still take part. I’m gonna watch the paint dry.

Let me know if you think of any jobs I’d be perfect for, ‘Mkay?

Why Does Working have to be so Worky?

When I went for the interview, they were all, “Would you prefer part time or full time?” And I was all, “Part time, pretty please!” Because of all the important stuff I have to do that doesn’t have to do with working. You understand. Then I got the call and they said, “Congratulations, and by the way, the job is full-time!” Then they dangled benefits in front of my face, or rather, in front of my spouse’s face and he crunched some numbers and now I work 70 bazillion hours a week.

It’s not like it’s hard, exactly, it’s just intensive. I’m working in an office that’s helps kids, so that part is rewarding, as is the chance to wear all my pretty shoes. I love my pretty shoes. Anyway, my hours are wonky, as in, sometimes I come home at 5:00 and sometimes I come home at 7:00. On those nights Mitch makes dinner, which takes the bite out of working late. See what I did there? Dinner? Bite? I kill myself.

I guess my main problem is that work feels an awful lot like…work. Unlike when I worked at the Embassy in Brazil and wrote silly stories from the comfort of my bed while attending the occasional party. Now that’s what I call a good job. Unfortunately, there are twins in braces and buckets of medical bills and a kid in college and a kid who needs a new laptop and guitar amp and a dog who needs his nails trimmed by the vet and a cat who needs a burlap bag, so working is apparently going to be a thing for me. Oh well, maybe I’ll get used to it or maybe I’ll get sacked. Either way!