Yesterday was a three restaurant day. I started my morning having Pho with Lolita, and then had a quick trip to Whole Foods. I paid for my groceries, and needed a pen to write a check (I know I’m a dinosaur) so I asked the checker for a pen, and he whipped one out from behind his ear. I held my hands up in the air like a burglary suspect who is finally being arrested. “I have issues,” I declared, “Can I use one of those pens?” And I sort of waved at the pile of pens next to the register. You know the ones, they don’t have hair and ear goo stuck to them.
I had some jeans to pick up in Beverly Hills, and my friend Jay was having The Sweets Truck come to his workplace, so I thought I’d swing by there, pick up some yummy desserts, and have a visit with Jay. I’m so pleased that I did. We met the nicest group of eight people who came from Mission Viejo in a giant limousine, they were celebrating a man named Lyn’s 50th birthday. I won’t tell you everything, but I did take video and as soon as I can get it uploaded I’ll share it in the sidebar.
Next was Alexander’s performance. The last two weeks he’s been at Day Jams, it’s a camp where the kids form a band, create their own song, their own posters, back stage passes, CD covers, and shirts. It’s a week long, and on the Friday they put on a concert. It is adorable times eighty bazillion.
After the concert Alexander had requested dinner at The Counter. We obliged and had hamburgers and wine, he had a hamburger with a strawberry milkshake.
While driving home I got a text from Kim Prince telling me that she was walking distance from my house with Jennifer and Lisa. I had Mr. G. drop me off for a drink with my friends, and we proceeded to get the worst service any restaurant could offer. Our server was VERY nice, she was apologetic about forgetting my wine, charged us for fewer drinks than we’d actually had, but she was busy sitting at the table next to us with three men. Yes. Really.
Somewhere after my ninety seventh glass of water (it’s been well over 100 degrees for the past three days) I noticed one of the other servers was wearing extremely low slung shorts. And by extremely low slung, I mean you can see ass crack when she’s NOT bending over. I’m pretty sure she felt sexy, but in a food setting I never want to see ass, that’s just me. I pointed it out to Lisa, who was like, “they’re not THAT low.” Because Lisa is a nicer person than I am. I promise you, there were absolutely no underwear involved.
About ten minutes later I was grabbing Lisa’s arm stage whispering, “fecal matter and food”, because the ass crack waitress had jammed her ticket book down the back of her pants right over her ass crack. At that point even Lisa agreed, “there is so much wrong with that I don’t know where to begin.” And yes, those food tickets that were smeared all over her butt, were torn off and handed to the cooks. Because what good is food without a little ass juice?
There isn’t a chance in hell that I’ll go back there. You know, apparently I have issues.