Warning to my mother: Some of this is about a pregnancy scare.
For a week or so, I had been sick to my stomach in sudden waves that passed after a few minutes, faster than a Taylor Swift relationship. Any woman in her 30's who has been nauseous for a week straight...well, it's safe to say that her first thought is, "Sonofabitch, I'm pregnant." The actuality of me being pregnant is highly unlikely since I'm a big proponent of wrapping it before tapping it, even though I know that condoms aren't 100% effective, and it is on the box, Ross Geller. In complete denial, I had decided to ignore the nausea (and the fact that my period was two weeks late) and continue to drink bottles of wine, hoping that both the nausea and the lateness were being caused by stress.
At the end of this week, my friend, Sarah and I headed over to Union Bar and Grille for dinner. Right away, when the waiter came up, my first thought was, "hell to the yeah." I shamelessly flirted with him through our initial drink order and appetizers.
But, then my duck rigatoni came. It looked delicious. But, the smell...and I ran to the bathroom. After that, my mood completely changed, as I finally accepted the realization that I might be pregnant. I discussed my concern with Sarah, and while doing so, I started to cry discreetly in the restaurant. Sarah, being the good friend that she is, told me that after dinner, we would hit CVS because I needed to know for sure. And I agreed. It was hard to focus on my food after that, but I made it through dinner. I had forgotten about the waiter, but I tried to lighten the mood by making awkward jokes that Sarah laughed at because we both enjoy awkward jokes. Small sample: related to bridesmaid dress shopping that weekend, I muttered, "Should I even buy the dress now? I won't fit in it by October" and when Sarah commended me for being able to eat at least some of my dinner, my response was, "Well, I am eating for two."
When it came time for dessert, Sarah and I ordered the sorbet. The waiter looked right at me and said, "I just want to tell you that the sorbet has cream in it." I realized, with horror, that he had seen me run to the bathroom earlier and had noticed that I stayed in there for longer than number one. As he walked away, to put in our sorbet order, Sarah said to me, "That was really nice that he said that. A little weird...but more nice than weird." And I had to agree. Even with our ominous task looming ahead like the Shadow of Mordor in my own Lord of the Flings story, I thought that it couldn't hurt to flirt a little more, you know...before I started to show.
We enjoyed the sorbet, and when he brought the check, he looked right at me and said, "By the way, my name is [the Waiter]. It really was a pleasure serving you. I hope you come in again." Sarah said to me as he walked away, "you need give him your phone number. He's been flirting with you all night." My thoughts were, "He can't be interested. One, it's his job to flirt. He wants a tip. Two, he thinks that I was attacked by lactose, so he probably finds me disgusting. Three, if he had been that observant of me throughout the night, he had most likely witnessed me sobbing for ten minutes. None of this is attractive." But, Sarah said, "what do you have to lose?" ("Except never being able to show my face in Union Bar again," I thought).
Anyway, I had been trying to be more assertive when attracted to someone. And so I left my number with my name and a "you should call me."
The next day, Saturday, I received a voicemail message, "Hi Melissa, it's the Waiter. I received a note from you saying to call. So, I'm following instructions. Call me back." And we have a date this week. We're already off to a good start...according to the vm message, he's a man who does what I tell him to do. He's seen me at my absolute worst. And one day, he may be telling the grandkids about the day we met, "I saved your grandmother from too much dairy." That's romance!
By the way, I took the test. I tried to buy it covertly, but the CVS self-checkout machine outed me by bellowing, "WELCOME!!! TO START, PLEASE SWIPE YOUR EXTRACARE CARD!" in a silent drugstore. Turns out that I was not pregnant (just stressed), and Sarah and I celebrated with much rejoicing and vodka.
Showing posts with label Good Eating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Good Eating. Show all posts
Monday, June 9, 2014
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Strip T's to the rescue: Part 2
There we were, the Strip T's staff and I waiting for Mr. Could-Be-Sloth to walk through the door. I had just received a text saying "Where are you? Inside." Jonathan and I looked quizzically at each other. Strip T's is not that big of a place. It's essentially the size of a D'Angelos. (Side note: When (and notice I say "when", not "if) you go to Strip T's, take a trip to the bathroom. You will feel like you just came down the beanstalk to wreak havoc on peasants. It's an experience.)
Making me even more nervous was the fact that, during one of our texting conversations, Mr. Could-Be-Sloth had told me that I was only the second person that he's met online to date. The first...he arrived at their meeting place, saw her, and in his words, "ran like a cheetah." I almost broke the date off when he told me that story, but he explained that it had nothing to do with her looks, he just freaked out, and he called her later to apologize. Whether or not his version is true, I don't know, but a free meal at Strip T's was at stake, and I didn't really want to give that up, so I gave him the benefit of the yay-I-get-food doubt.
As Jonathan and I scanned the room, Jonathan asked what Mr. Could-Be-Sloth looked like. I told him that all I knew was that he was bald, with a goatee, and Middle Eastern. Jonathan, then became busy with restaurant stuff, such as like, you know, running it, so I decided to take a look outside. I looked to my right, down the sidewalk, and saw a gorgeous bald, bearded man round the corner. He glanced at me and smiled....and then started walking in the other direction. For a split second, I thought "cheetahs run faster than that," but quickly realized that that wasn't the person I was waiting for.
I looked to my left and a tiny man was walking toward me. He wasn't bald (I'm not sure where I got that). He had a very nice smile. And he came up and hugged me hello. So I assumed that it was Mr. Could-Be-Sloth, who while attractive, wasn't really my type physically. However, not one to judge a kindle fire by its electronic title page, I was still looking forward to getting to know him because he seemed like a very sweet guy. As far as the confusion over his text saying that he was in the restaurant, here is where punctuation is important, guys. Without it, your message becomes, "where are you. inside" instead of "where are you? Inside?"
My Waiter Crush sat us at what Strip T's calls, the "Mafia Table". It's a corner table that faces the entire dining room and it's where I expect I'll receive my business if I ever have any and happen to be eating there.
I was trying not to feel self-concious that, sitting down, we looked like Jack Sprat and his wife, but even at 5'5", I felt as though I was towering over him...even though he insists to this day that he's 5'7". Waiter Crush took our drink order and left to grab them.
I turned to Mr. Could-Be-Sloth and said, "so nice to finally meet you! How was your day today?" "My day was good," he responded. *Silence*
"What is it that you do for work?" I asked. "Operations," he responded. *Silence*
"What kind of business does your company do?" I asked. "Hospitality," he responded. *Silence*
"Oh cool, that's what my company does too!" I said, hoping that this would spark up the conversation. "We run the laundry facilities in dorms and apartment buildings and hotels." I continued. "I see," he responded. *Silence*
Now, a few things were running through my mind. One, oh my GOD this is BRUTAL. Two, is the whole dinner going to be like this??? Three, is it too soon to sneeze and get the check? But, I thought maybe he's just nervous. Or it might be that he's not interested? So I gave him an out by saying, "if you're not hungry, I don't mind just grabbing a small plate and a drink or something." And in his longest response yet, he stated, "No, let's eat a meal." and grabbed the menu.
The conversation went on like that for our whole dinner. During the times when I was just tired of the responsibility of carrying on the conversation, I sat there with my elbows on the table, and my chin in my hands, in classic boredom pose, like a kid who's been told she can't have dessert until she finishes her peas. I kept catching the eye of Waiter Crush and sending him silent "help me" signals, which I could tell he understood. But, with f-ing delicious food also comes painstaking care, meaning I wouldn't be seeing our entrees soon enough and there was nothing he could do.
Our food did come out soon after though, and my food was ten times more interesting than my date! The amazing thing about Strip T's is they basically go to the farm and get the ingredients for the menu which changes daily. I'm not being sarcastic...they literally go to the farm and get ingredients. They cure their own meat. They make their own vinegar. The flour for their bread and pasta is milled the day before. So, not only is the food interesting and cooked perfectly, but it's practically the best quality you can ask for.
That night, I ordered for Mr. Could-Be-Sloth, whose only instruction was "I like spicy," which I conveyed to Waiter Crush who suggested that he have the roasted skate wing, with spicy 'nduja sausage, kale, potato and leeks. Mr. Could-Be-Sloth ok'ed that with an "ok". Me, on the other hand, I knew exactly what I wanted. Oysters Ouefs Brouilles, and the Anne Fish Tautog with lobster sauce, fiddleheads and home fries. And in a down-to-the wire decision, encouraged by Waiter Crush, I got the seared pork belly small plate. Yet another reason that I love Strip T's...whenever I'm on the fence about ordering something, the waiters always give me a "no big deal" go ahead, which makes me feel like I'm not being gluttonous, just appreciative of what's on the menu.
Anyway, back to my disaster date: I still took the time to enjoy my food and wine, but once that was gone, I wanted to be!! I excused myself to go to the restroom, and on my way back from Lilli-pot, I went by Jonathan who asked, "Are you sneezing?" To which, I responded, "God, yes." Over comes Waiter Crush, who again subtlely steered us in the right direction by saying, "You guys are too full for dessert?" Before Mr. Could-Be-Sloth could answer with a one-word "no" response, I said, "Yeah, I'm stuffed."
Waiter Crush: Just the check, then.
Me: Yep.
Once Waiter Crush dropped the check off, I offered to pay, and Mr. Could-Be-Sloth took the billfold and said that it was on him (which was nice), and then he proceeded to put it on the bench next to him... So, we sat there in silence for another ten minutes (or was it a year? hard to tell), while Waiter Crush kept glancing at the table, trying to see if he could help me make my escape by speeding along the payment process.
Finally, (and I literally breathed an audible sigh of relief) Mr. Could-Be-Sloth slipped his card out of his wallet and into the billfold and Waiter Crush took it, bringing it back processed a second later. I said goodbye to all and Mr. Could-Be-Sloth walked me to my car where I gave him a hug. He told me to text when I got home and I said ok. When I got into my car, I saw a text from Jonathan, "At least the food was free. :)"
I texted Mr. Could-Be-Sloth when I arrived home and he asked, "Be honest. What did you think?" And I replied, "It started out good! I just thought that there were a lot of awkward silences," thinking that there's no way he could disagree. He responded, "I didn't think they were awkward, but oh well." This leads me to question my own dating style, and I would love it if you'd let me know what you think. To me, if you're having silences on the first date, they're prima facie awkward. You should have plenty to say when you don't know anything about each other. The silences come after you've been together for a while, then it becomes a comfortable silence.
Anyway, I haven't heard from Mr. Could-Be-Sloth, so I think he realized that it wasn't a match. But, the silver lining around my dinner plate...man, those oysters and that pork belly were F-ing Delicious.*
*I'm trying to get Strip T's to adopt that as their slogan. I'm not optimistic.
Making me even more nervous was the fact that, during one of our texting conversations, Mr. Could-Be-Sloth had told me that I was only the second person that he's met online to date. The first...he arrived at their meeting place, saw her, and in his words, "ran like a cheetah." I almost broke the date off when he told me that story, but he explained that it had nothing to do with her looks, he just freaked out, and he called her later to apologize. Whether or not his version is true, I don't know, but a free meal at Strip T's was at stake, and I didn't really want to give that up, so I gave him the benefit of the yay-I-get-food doubt.
As Jonathan and I scanned the room, Jonathan asked what Mr. Could-Be-Sloth looked like. I told him that all I knew was that he was bald, with a goatee, and Middle Eastern. Jonathan, then became busy with restaurant stuff, such as like, you know, running it, so I decided to take a look outside. I looked to my right, down the sidewalk, and saw a gorgeous bald, bearded man round the corner. He glanced at me and smiled....and then started walking in the other direction. For a split second, I thought "cheetahs run faster than that," but quickly realized that that wasn't the person I was waiting for.
I looked to my left and a tiny man was walking toward me. He wasn't bald (I'm not sure where I got that). He had a very nice smile. And he came up and hugged me hello. So I assumed that it was Mr. Could-Be-Sloth, who while attractive, wasn't really my type physically. However, not one to judge a kindle fire by its electronic title page, I was still looking forward to getting to know him because he seemed like a very sweet guy. As far as the confusion over his text saying that he was in the restaurant, here is where punctuation is important, guys. Without it, your message becomes, "where are you. inside" instead of "where are you? Inside?"
My Waiter Crush sat us at what Strip T's calls, the "Mafia Table". It's a corner table that faces the entire dining room and it's where I expect I'll receive my business if I ever have any and happen to be eating there.
I was trying not to feel self-concious that, sitting down, we looked like Jack Sprat and his wife, but even at 5'5", I felt as though I was towering over him...even though he insists to this day that he's 5'7". Waiter Crush took our drink order and left to grab them.
I turned to Mr. Could-Be-Sloth and said, "so nice to finally meet you! How was your day today?" "My day was good," he responded. *Silence*
"What is it that you do for work?" I asked. "Operations," he responded. *Silence*
"What kind of business does your company do?" I asked. "Hospitality," he responded. *Silence*
"Oh cool, that's what my company does too!" I said, hoping that this would spark up the conversation. "We run the laundry facilities in dorms and apartment buildings and hotels." I continued. "I see," he responded. *Silence*
Now, a few things were running through my mind. One, oh my GOD this is BRUTAL. Two, is the whole dinner going to be like this??? Three, is it too soon to sneeze and get the check? But, I thought maybe he's just nervous. Or it might be that he's not interested? So I gave him an out by saying, "if you're not hungry, I don't mind just grabbing a small plate and a drink or something." And in his longest response yet, he stated, "No, let's eat a meal." and grabbed the menu.
The conversation went on like that for our whole dinner. During the times when I was just tired of the responsibility of carrying on the conversation, I sat there with my elbows on the table, and my chin in my hands, in classic boredom pose, like a kid who's been told she can't have dessert until she finishes her peas. I kept catching the eye of Waiter Crush and sending him silent "help me" signals, which I could tell he understood. But, with f-ing delicious food also comes painstaking care, meaning I wouldn't be seeing our entrees soon enough and there was nothing he could do.
Our food did come out soon after though, and my food was ten times more interesting than my date! The amazing thing about Strip T's is they basically go to the farm and get the ingredients for the menu which changes daily. I'm not being sarcastic...they literally go to the farm and get ingredients. They cure their own meat. They make their own vinegar. The flour for their bread and pasta is milled the day before. So, not only is the food interesting and cooked perfectly, but it's practically the best quality you can ask for.
That night, I ordered for Mr. Could-Be-Sloth, whose only instruction was "I like spicy," which I conveyed to Waiter Crush who suggested that he have the roasted skate wing, with spicy 'nduja sausage, kale, potato and leeks. Mr. Could-Be-Sloth ok'ed that with an "ok". Me, on the other hand, I knew exactly what I wanted. Oysters Ouefs Brouilles, and the Anne Fish Tautog with lobster sauce, fiddleheads and home fries. And in a down-to-the wire decision, encouraged by Waiter Crush, I got the seared pork belly small plate. Yet another reason that I love Strip T's...whenever I'm on the fence about ordering something, the waiters always give me a "no big deal" go ahead, which makes me feel like I'm not being gluttonous, just appreciative of what's on the menu.
Anyway, back to my disaster date: I still took the time to enjoy my food and wine, but once that was gone, I wanted to be!! I excused myself to go to the restroom, and on my way back from Lilli-pot, I went by Jonathan who asked, "Are you sneezing?" To which, I responded, "God, yes." Over comes Waiter Crush, who again subtlely steered us in the right direction by saying, "You guys are too full for dessert?" Before Mr. Could-Be-Sloth could answer with a one-word "no" response, I said, "Yeah, I'm stuffed."
Waiter Crush: Just the check, then.
Me: Yep.
Once Waiter Crush dropped the check off, I offered to pay, and Mr. Could-Be-Sloth took the billfold and said that it was on him (which was nice), and then he proceeded to put it on the bench next to him... So, we sat there in silence for another ten minutes (or was it a year? hard to tell), while Waiter Crush kept glancing at the table, trying to see if he could help me make my escape by speeding along the payment process.
Finally, (and I literally breathed an audible sigh of relief) Mr. Could-Be-Sloth slipped his card out of his wallet and into the billfold and Waiter Crush took it, bringing it back processed a second later. I said goodbye to all and Mr. Could-Be-Sloth walked me to my car where I gave him a hug. He told me to text when I got home and I said ok. When I got into my car, I saw a text from Jonathan, "At least the food was free. :)"
I texted Mr. Could-Be-Sloth when I arrived home and he asked, "Be honest. What did you think?" And I replied, "It started out good! I just thought that there were a lot of awkward silences," thinking that there's no way he could disagree. He responded, "I didn't think they were awkward, but oh well." This leads me to question my own dating style, and I would love it if you'd let me know what you think. To me, if you're having silences on the first date, they're prima facie awkward. You should have plenty to say when you don't know anything about each other. The silences come after you've been together for a while, then it becomes a comfortable silence.
Anyway, I haven't heard from Mr. Could-Be-Sloth, so I think he realized that it wasn't a match. But, the silver lining around my dinner plate...man, those oysters and that pork belly were F-ing Delicious.*
*I'm trying to get Strip T's to adopt that as their slogan. I'm not optimistic.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Strip T's to the Rescue: Part 1
First of all, I just want to mention that I posted twice in a week a couple of weeks ago, and was really excited to get momentum back. And then the Boston Marathon bombing happened. As you know, Boston is my hometown, and I really struggled with what I would say on my next post. I knew that I had to say SOMETHING, but this is supposed to be a humor blog. So, I kept procrastinating, trying to figure out a way to reconcile what I was feeling with the usual tone of this blog. Because I was just too sad.
But, then it dawned on me: it's important to laugh! It doesn't take away from remembering what happened or mourning the loss of such young and vibrant lives. It strengthens our resolve to carry on and show these horrible people that their actions do not affect us, our democracy, or our freedom to speak. I don't have any sniper training and I hate guns and violence, so I can't root out the bastards. And while the spy life looks glamorous, I'm way too much of a blabbermouth to work for counterintelligence. ("Melly, what do you do for work?" "I'm a spy...uh, I mean, a Coors light promo girl, obv.") But, betcha by golly, wow, I can make people laugh (I hope). So, I said to myself, you write that blog about awful men buying you delicious food. And you do it for AMERICA!!! And so, without further ado:
Let's talk about online dating profiles and pictures. Typically, I skip over the profiles that don't have any pictures. I immediately think they're either married or look like Sloth.
FYI, that's true hardly ever. One of the best looking men that I've ever dated didn't have a picture on his dating profile simply because he was a professor, and he didn't want to encounter any of his students. And a gorgeous female friend of mine didn't have her profile picture up because she felt like she was always being judged on her looks and she wanted someone to date her because she was intelligent and kind. But, that's where my mind goes when I'm contacted by a guy who has no picture.
Imagine my skepticism when I received a message via match that stated that we seemed to have a lot in common and that he'd like to take me out, but he had one dealbreaker: I couldn't ask for a picture because he wouldn't send it to me. According to Mr. Could-Be-Sloth, he would much rather just meet for dinner or drinks in person. Initially, I thought that was a bit weird, but after a few messages back and forth that seemed to go ok, I gave him my number so that we could text as it's easier. At first, I wasn't sure if we were a match, but he did grow on me as the week went on. He finally asked if I would meet him for dinner, and he suggested that we go to Strip T's in Watertown
Now, here's a little background on Strip T's. It's f-ing delicious and has topped pretty much every "Best of Boston" list since it opened. So, I knew that he had good taste in restaurants. On the other hand, the general manager, Jonathan, is also an old friend who I've known forever. I'm talking we carpooled to Hebrew school together when we were kids. And, I had JUST been to Strip T's the week before for dinner with Andrea and her husband, where we had eaten them out of building and restaurant. I ultimately decided though that, even with the danger of bringing a man who could look like Sloth to my Hebrew school carpool-mate's restaurant and the danger of becoming known by the staff as a foodie groupie, it was a good place to go because as to first point, it's f-ing delicious.
Strip T's is very hard to get into without a reservation. So, I had mentioned to Mr. Could-Be-Sloth that he should make one. On Sunday, the night before our date, I received a text, "Were you serious about a reservation? How busy could it be on a Monday?" I'm not sure why this irritated me as much as it did. I think sometimes I have a tendency to be too hard on people when they don't do as I say. But that's only because I'm a genius and always right.
Luckily I could shoot a quick text to Jonathan and ask if he had any openings for a table for two for Monday night. In a text dripping with wisecrack (or so I imagine), J responded, "You mean for your date?"
Me: Yes! He didn't believe me when I said we prob needed one.
J: Well, make sure he pays.
When I arrived the next night (early as always so that I could get settled in before the fun started), I walked in to meet Jonathan at the door. Here's another reason that Strip T's is so awesome. Not only do they have delicious food, but Jonathan had provided the staff with instructions that I was on a blind first date, so that if I looked like I wasn't having a good time, they needed to get me the hell outta there fast. That's above and beyond typical restaurant service, you have to agree.
So, here we are at the "big reveal", let's run down the reasons that I was nervous about this date:
1.) My date could look like Sloth
2.) He never made a reservation, so seemed like kind of a slacker.
3.) I have a crush on the Strip T's waiter that was going to be serving us. So, I was nervous about making a fool of myself by continuously mentioning that this was a "first" date and a "blind" date, in order to give the appearance that I was still available.
As I stood there with Jonathan and the staff, and as we all ran down the plan ("People, if I sneeze, it means it's a total disaster and come over with the check even if there's still food left. No veal left behind! I will box it up!"), I got a text from Mr. Could Be Sloth..."Where are you? I'm inside".
Was Mr. Could-Be-Sloth actually Sloth? Did he even show up?? Did the unbelievably well thought-out and sophisticated sneezing plan work? Tune in next post and see!
But, then it dawned on me: it's important to laugh! It doesn't take away from remembering what happened or mourning the loss of such young and vibrant lives. It strengthens our resolve to carry on and show these horrible people that their actions do not affect us, our democracy, or our freedom to speak. I don't have any sniper training and I hate guns and violence, so I can't root out the bastards. And while the spy life looks glamorous, I'm way too much of a blabbermouth to work for counterintelligence. ("Melly, what do you do for work?" "I'm a spy...uh, I mean, a Coors light promo girl, obv.") But, betcha by golly, wow, I can make people laugh (I hope). So, I said to myself, you write that blog about awful men buying you delicious food. And you do it for AMERICA!!! And so, without further ado:
Let's talk about online dating profiles and pictures. Typically, I skip over the profiles that don't have any pictures. I immediately think they're either married or look like Sloth.
FYI, that's true hardly ever. One of the best looking men that I've ever dated didn't have a picture on his dating profile simply because he was a professor, and he didn't want to encounter any of his students. And a gorgeous female friend of mine didn't have her profile picture up because she felt like she was always being judged on her looks and she wanted someone to date her because she was intelligent and kind. But, that's where my mind goes when I'm contacted by a guy who has no picture.
Imagine my skepticism when I received a message via match that stated that we seemed to have a lot in common and that he'd like to take me out, but he had one dealbreaker: I couldn't ask for a picture because he wouldn't send it to me. According to Mr. Could-Be-Sloth, he would much rather just meet for dinner or drinks in person. Initially, I thought that was a bit weird, but after a few messages back and forth that seemed to go ok, I gave him my number so that we could text as it's easier. At first, I wasn't sure if we were a match, but he did grow on me as the week went on. He finally asked if I would meet him for dinner, and he suggested that we go to Strip T's in Watertown
Now, here's a little background on Strip T's. It's f-ing delicious and has topped pretty much every "Best of Boston" list since it opened. So, I knew that he had good taste in restaurants. On the other hand, the general manager, Jonathan, is also an old friend who I've known forever. I'm talking we carpooled to Hebrew school together when we were kids. And, I had JUST been to Strip T's the week before for dinner with Andrea and her husband, where we had eaten them out of building and restaurant. I ultimately decided though that, even with the danger of bringing a man who could look like Sloth to my Hebrew school carpool-mate's restaurant and the danger of becoming known by the staff as a foodie groupie, it was a good place to go because as to first point, it's f-ing delicious.
Strip T's is very hard to get into without a reservation. So, I had mentioned to Mr. Could-Be-Sloth that he should make one. On Sunday, the night before our date, I received a text, "Were you serious about a reservation? How busy could it be on a Monday?" I'm not sure why this irritated me as much as it did. I think sometimes I have a tendency to be too hard on people when they don't do as I say. But that's only because I'm a genius and always right.
Luckily I could shoot a quick text to Jonathan and ask if he had any openings for a table for two for Monday night. In a text dripping with wisecrack (or so I imagine), J responded, "You mean for your date?"
Me: Yes! He didn't believe me when I said we prob needed one.
J: Well, make sure he pays.
When I arrived the next night (early as always so that I could get settled in before the fun started), I walked in to meet Jonathan at the door. Here's another reason that Strip T's is so awesome. Not only do they have delicious food, but Jonathan had provided the staff with instructions that I was on a blind first date, so that if I looked like I wasn't having a good time, they needed to get me the hell outta there fast. That's above and beyond typical restaurant service, you have to agree.
So, here we are at the "big reveal", let's run down the reasons that I was nervous about this date:
1.) My date could look like Sloth
2.) He never made a reservation, so seemed like kind of a slacker.
3.) I have a crush on the Strip T's waiter that was going to be serving us. So, I was nervous about making a fool of myself by continuously mentioning that this was a "first" date and a "blind" date, in order to give the appearance that I was still available.
As I stood there with Jonathan and the staff, and as we all ran down the plan ("People, if I sneeze, it means it's a total disaster and come over with the check even if there's still food left. No veal left behind! I will box it up!"), I got a text from Mr. Could Be Sloth..."Where are you? I'm inside".
Was Mr. Could-Be-Sloth actually Sloth? Did he even show up?? Did the unbelievably well thought-out and sophisticated sneezing plan work? Tune in next post and see!
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Two Random Thoughts from this weekend
1.) This is why Crazy Pete is easily one of my most favorite people in this world:
I was out to dinner with a good friend from high school, Erin. We started discussing how much we love oysters. Which led me to talk about my oyster kick with Andrea lately. Which led me to talk about the food and wine festival in Miami coming up in February. Which led Erin to say that she really wants to go. Which led me to talk about Crazy Pete. Which led to this conversation:
Erin: Is he on facebook?
Me: Yeah, but his page is probably set to private. You should just friend request him.
Erin: But, he doesn't know me.
Me: It doesn't matter. I'm like 99.99% positive that he'll accept it.
Erin: Should I say I'm your friend?
Me: You can. But, I still think it doesn't matter.
Erin: Ok.
(38 seconds later...literally)
Erin (Laughing): Oh my God, he just accepted my friend request.
2.) A man walked by us carrying a balloon in the shape of breasts. Both Erin and I thought to ourselves, this probably won't end well. Let this be a lesson to you...here's the result of what happens when you carry a boob balloon through a restaurant with low-hanging ceiling fans.
I was out to dinner with a good friend from high school, Erin. We started discussing how much we love oysters. Which led me to talk about my oyster kick with Andrea lately. Which led me to talk about the food and wine festival in Miami coming up in February. Which led Erin to say that she really wants to go. Which led me to talk about Crazy Pete. Which led to this conversation:
Erin: Is he on facebook?
Me: Yeah, but his page is probably set to private. You should just friend request him.
Erin: But, he doesn't know me.
Me: It doesn't matter. I'm like 99.99% positive that he'll accept it.
Erin: Should I say I'm your friend?
Me: You can. But, I still think it doesn't matter.
Erin: Ok.
(38 seconds later...literally)
Erin (Laughing): Oh my God, he just accepted my friend request.
2.) A man walked by us carrying a balloon in the shape of breasts. Both Erin and I thought to ourselves, this probably won't end well. Let this be a lesson to you...here's the result of what happens when you carry a boob balloon through a restaurant with low-hanging ceiling fans.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
I Eventually Made it to Aruba
Yes, I arrived in Aruba a day late. And yes, there was family gossip about why I was a day late (i.e., getting action; kidnapped by Aruban pirates; just plain, old-fashioned irresponsibility). And yes, my parents were a tad bit "perturbed". But, I made it just in time for my cousin's pre-wedding boat cruise--sigh, another boat. After all of these boat rides that I've taken lately, I've come to the conclusion that I'm no longer afraid of boats...I just don't like them very much.
Boat notwithstanding, we had a great time on the cruise. Twice, the master of ceremonies asked us to give three cheers to the bride and groom: "Hip Hip HOORAY!", causing my cousin, Mike, to whisper to me, "Who's going to tell this guy that no one says 'hip hip hooray' anymore?", which of course led me to break into a rousing rendition of "For he's a jolly good fellow." After the boat ride, Mike, my sister, Stacy, and I went to this restaurant that my friends had recommended: Texas de Brazil. Who knew that they had these in the States??? I sure didn't. The closest one to Boston is in Chicago and I'm thinking of flying there just so I can eat there again. It's that delicious. It's a traditional Brazilian steakhouse...all-you-can-eat-meat, a carnivore's wet dream.
So far, I was loving Aruba. And I hadn't even been to the beach yet. I've never been a beach person. I don't like being in the sun all day. I'm not a big fan of sand. It's never really been my thing. I realized, on this vacation, that it's because I've been DOING IT WRONG MY WHOLE LIFE! You are supposed to be at the beach on a comfortable beach lounge chair, under a gigantic umbrella, with a mojito in hand. By the time I left Aruba, I loved the beach!
We did a little sightseeing: saw some ruins, went into a cave, saw a bat and ran like hell out of the cave, went to the Natural Bridge. For most of this, I stayed in the car because I was cranky and wanted to go back to the beach, but my parents and Stacy enjoyed it. Fortunately for my family, I was the sole participant in the "running out of the cave" part which gave them all a good laugh.
My cousin's wedding was on the beach at sunset and was gorgeous. Katie's stunning in sweatpants, so in her wedding dress, she looked amazing! I'm very happy for her and the new member of our family, Kevin.
It was a terrific week. We had a bit of a scare on the way home. The plane took a nasty drop. There are a bunch of things that I'm scared of...boats (maybe), spiders, vomit, failure. I've never been scared of flying. But, this drop was scary. I gasped. Others screamed. It felt like the engine stopped. And for a split second, I thought that this would be end of me and my blog. (Yes, I was worried about not being able to continue my blog.)Luckily, it was just a very very big air pocket. And although there was a bit of turbulence on the way home, there were no more drops like that. I'm sure you, as readers, are all very grateful!
Boat notwithstanding, we had a great time on the cruise. Twice, the master of ceremonies asked us to give three cheers to the bride and groom: "Hip Hip HOORAY!", causing my cousin, Mike, to whisper to me, "Who's going to tell this guy that no one says 'hip hip hooray' anymore?", which of course led me to break into a rousing rendition of "For he's a jolly good fellow." After the boat ride, Mike, my sister, Stacy, and I went to this restaurant that my friends had recommended: Texas de Brazil. Who knew that they had these in the States??? I sure didn't. The closest one to Boston is in Chicago and I'm thinking of flying there just so I can eat there again. It's that delicious. It's a traditional Brazilian steakhouse...all-you-can-eat-meat, a carnivore's wet dream.
So far, I was loving Aruba. And I hadn't even been to the beach yet. I've never been a beach person. I don't like being in the sun all day. I'm not a big fan of sand. It's never really been my thing. I realized, on this vacation, that it's because I've been DOING IT WRONG MY WHOLE LIFE! You are supposed to be at the beach on a comfortable beach lounge chair, under a gigantic umbrella, with a mojito in hand. By the time I left Aruba, I loved the beach!
We did a little sightseeing: saw some ruins, went into a cave, saw a bat and ran like hell out of the cave, went to the Natural Bridge. For most of this, I stayed in the car because I was cranky and wanted to go back to the beach, but my parents and Stacy enjoyed it. Fortunately for my family, I was the sole participant in the "running out of the cave" part which gave them all a good laugh.
My cousin's wedding was on the beach at sunset and was gorgeous. Katie's stunning in sweatpants, so in her wedding dress, she looked amazing! I'm very happy for her and the new member of our family, Kevin.
It was a terrific week. We had a bit of a scare on the way home. The plane took a nasty drop. There are a bunch of things that I'm scared of...boats (maybe), spiders, vomit, failure. I've never been scared of flying. But, this drop was scary. I gasped. Others screamed. It felt like the engine stopped. And for a split second, I thought that this would be end of me and my blog. (Yes, I was worried about not being able to continue my blog.)Luckily, it was just a very very big air pocket. And although there was a bit of turbulence on the way home, there were no more drops like that. I'm sure you, as readers, are all very grateful!
Monday, July 23, 2012
The Night before Aruba
I've been away in Aruba for the week, and I plan on writing about that tomorrow. But I would like to share the happenings of the night before:
A few weeks ago, when a friend from college whom we affectionately "Crazy Pete" said that he was coming to visit Boston, I was happy that I would get to see him while he was in town, but a bit cautious, knowing that I had to catch an early flight to Aruba the next day for my cousin's wedding. Pete's uttering of the sentence, "I hope you don't miss your flight..." when we were discussing our plans didn't make me feel any more secure. Add to this the fact that this all fell on Friday 13th, as my close friend, Patrick, pointed out, and we reached a trifecta of "uh-oh" news.
The plan was to meet at Sam's at Louis Boston for drinks, and then see where the night would take us. I met Pete around 2:00 p.m., and by the time Andrea and Patrick came along, we were about three cocktails in. We shared an early and delicious dinner.
That night, I had plans to meet a few other friends to go see one of my favorite bands, Dear Leader on a boat cruise through Boston Harbor. Pete, Andrea and Pat went out to yet another dinner, and I left them to meet up with friends, Jeff, Scott, Marianne, Joy and Sean. Now, I've mentioned before that I have a great fear of boats. Luckily, that afternoon, Pete kept refilling my wine glass and the future boat excursion seemed less like an ominous boat ride on Friday the 13th and more like a ride on It's a Small World through rainbows and sunshine. The concert was excellent! While typically, at concerts, I stand at the back of the room, nodding my head in time with the music like a true emo kid all grown up, here I was, jumping up and down at the front, shout-singing along with the band. I'm sure they were cool with it. At one point, the boat was rocking back and forth and we all stumbled around for a minute or so. I found out later that it was because my friend, Marianne, had made her way to the helm and asked the captain if she could drive for a little while. I had always thought that it would be against some law or regulation to allow a booze cruise guest to drive the boat, but apparently, all you have to do is ask.
When we docked in Boston, I met up with Pete again. The original plan for me was to leave after the concert and go home and sleep, then wake up feeling refreshed with bees buzzing and birds singing, and leap to my car with my suitcase, head to the airport, jump on my plane, and jetset to Aruba. But, of course, as I'm sure Pete knew would happen all along, the best-laid plans of revelers and night owls...
Off we went to the North End to eat yet more food. We settled on Bricco and enjoyed a really delicious meal of shrimp scampi, octopus, and pumpkin tortelli. Finally, at 2 am, we headed home. We did hit a hiccup on the drive home, when we hit a sobriety checkpoint. Luckily, I had slowed down on the boat, and gorged myself on heavy Italian food, so I was fine to drive. However, I was thrown a curve ball when the officer asked if I was sober, "for the most part." How are you supposed to answer that question? A yes response implies that I am "for the most part" and a no response would be very very bad. My inherently sarcastic nature wanted to answer, "I'm not sure that you fully understand the purpose of a sobriety checkpoint." But, of course, I kept my mouth shut, smiled my answer at him, and he let us drive on.
As we stumbled into my apartment and the clock struck three, I turned to Pete and said, "I don't think I'll be making my flight." To which he responded, "How many dinners did I have tonight?" And that is the story of why I arrived in Aruba one day late. Stay tuned for Tales from the Trip.
A few weeks ago, when a friend from college whom we affectionately "Crazy Pete" said that he was coming to visit Boston, I was happy that I would get to see him while he was in town, but a bit cautious, knowing that I had to catch an early flight to Aruba the next day for my cousin's wedding. Pete's uttering of the sentence, "I hope you don't miss your flight..." when we were discussing our plans didn't make me feel any more secure. Add to this the fact that this all fell on Friday 13th, as my close friend, Patrick, pointed out, and we reached a trifecta of "uh-oh" news.
The plan was to meet at Sam's at Louis Boston for drinks, and then see where the night would take us. I met Pete around 2:00 p.m., and by the time Andrea and Patrick came along, we were about three cocktails in. We shared an early and delicious dinner.
That night, I had plans to meet a few other friends to go see one of my favorite bands, Dear Leader on a boat cruise through Boston Harbor. Pete, Andrea and Pat went out to yet another dinner, and I left them to meet up with friends, Jeff, Scott, Marianne, Joy and Sean. Now, I've mentioned before that I have a great fear of boats. Luckily, that afternoon, Pete kept refilling my wine glass and the future boat excursion seemed less like an ominous boat ride on Friday the 13th and more like a ride on It's a Small World through rainbows and sunshine. The concert was excellent! While typically, at concerts, I stand at the back of the room, nodding my head in time with the music like a true emo kid all grown up, here I was, jumping up and down at the front, shout-singing along with the band. I'm sure they were cool with it. At one point, the boat was rocking back and forth and we all stumbled around for a minute or so. I found out later that it was because my friend, Marianne, had made her way to the helm and asked the captain if she could drive for a little while. I had always thought that it would be against some law or regulation to allow a booze cruise guest to drive the boat, but apparently, all you have to do is ask.
When we docked in Boston, I met up with Pete again. The original plan for me was to leave after the concert and go home and sleep, then wake up feeling refreshed with bees buzzing and birds singing, and leap to my car with my suitcase, head to the airport, jump on my plane, and jetset to Aruba. But, of course, as I'm sure Pete knew would happen all along, the best-laid plans of revelers and night owls...
Off we went to the North End to eat yet more food. We settled on Bricco and enjoyed a really delicious meal of shrimp scampi, octopus, and pumpkin tortelli. Finally, at 2 am, we headed home. We did hit a hiccup on the drive home, when we hit a sobriety checkpoint. Luckily, I had slowed down on the boat, and gorged myself on heavy Italian food, so I was fine to drive. However, I was thrown a curve ball when the officer asked if I was sober, "for the most part." How are you supposed to answer that question? A yes response implies that I am "for the most part" and a no response would be very very bad. My inherently sarcastic nature wanted to answer, "I'm not sure that you fully understand the purpose of a sobriety checkpoint." But, of course, I kept my mouth shut, smiled my answer at him, and he let us drive on.
As we stumbled into my apartment and the clock struck three, I turned to Pete and said, "I don't think I'll be making my flight." To which he responded, "How many dinners did I have tonight?" And that is the story of why I arrived in Aruba one day late. Stay tuned for Tales from the Trip.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Wine Weekend Part 3: Jumbo Coffees and Pint-sized Middle-Schoolers
I haven't gotten to the wining and biking portion of our weekend yet-- the reason that we traveled to the North Fork in the first place. When we were organizing the trip, we started an e-mail train with some ideas. Someone suggested visiting the wine trail up in North Fork. We all responded that that was a great idea! The next email someone mentioned that they took the ferry and rented bikes and biked from winery to winery. Next, someone wrote about how that would be great because our bachelorette loves to bike. The next girl responded with "great idea" and an offer to find a place to rent the bikes. I was sitting at my computer screen watching these emails go back and forth with a look of terror. I couldn't stop the runaway e-mail train and before I knew it, I had plans to bike.
The winery idea I was completely on board with. Wine, check. Being outside, check. Day drinking, check. Hanging with the girls, six checks. So far this plan was all very "me". But on a bike? I hadn't been on a bike since the 10th grade, and that is completely by choice. I'm not exactly what you would call an athlete. I recycle and donate trees and whatever, but if I have a choice between riding a bicycle and driving my convertible, I'll choose the convertible 100 times out of 100, environment be damned. My thoughts were that we were going to rent a party bus or a van or limo or something and drive from place to place. So, I wasn't quite sure about the biking idea.
As it turned out, it was the best decision of the weekend. I sang the praises of Dan the Bike guy in yesterday's post. Not only that, I had no idea that North Fork Wine Trail was part of Bachelorette Party, U.S.A. I mean it goes 1.) Thunder Down Under, 2.) Drag show, 3.) Piano bar, 4.) North Fork. So there were tons and tons of bachelorettes in the area. And my two favorite vineyards that we visited were The Old Field Vineyards and Croteaux. Both places had beautiful and tranquil gardens overlooking the vineyard where you could sit and sip wine. And both places had gigantic signs out front that said "No Buses or Limos". So, biking was for the best as we wouldn't have been able to visit these gorgeous vineyards if we had gone with my plan. Plus, I looked pretty boss on a bike
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After what was an amazing afternoon, we got dolled up and went out to a phenomenal dinner at Noah's restaurant in Greenport. Here's a list of what we ate so that you can be jealous: 1.) Blue Point Oysters, 2.)Pipes Cove Oysters, 3.) Beer and Bacon Glazed Spiced Almonds, 4.) Gorgonzola Rosemary Fries, 5.) Warm Lobster Rolls, 6.) Striped bass, 7.) Jalapeno Ginger Glazed Chicken Wings, and 8.) Squash Blossoms. I ate everything on that list and I'm not ashamed. I would shout it out from the fattiest fatty's rooftop with reckless abandon.
We then went out for a night on the town. [Edited to remove details: What happens in Greenport stays there.]
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The winery idea I was completely on board with. Wine, check. Being outside, check. Day drinking, check. Hanging with the girls, six checks. So far this plan was all very "me". But on a bike? I hadn't been on a bike since the 10th grade, and that is completely by choice. I'm not exactly what you would call an athlete. I recycle and donate trees and whatever, but if I have a choice between riding a bicycle and driving my convertible, I'll choose the convertible 100 times out of 100, environment be damned. My thoughts were that we were going to rent a party bus or a van or limo or something and drive from place to place. So, I wasn't quite sure about the biking idea.
As it turned out, it was the best decision of the weekend. I sang the praises of Dan the Bike guy in yesterday's post. Not only that, I had no idea that North Fork Wine Trail was part of Bachelorette Party, U.S.A. I mean it goes 1.) Thunder Down Under, 2.) Drag show, 3.) Piano bar, 4.) North Fork. So there were tons and tons of bachelorettes in the area. And my two favorite vineyards that we visited were The Old Field Vineyards and Croteaux. Both places had beautiful and tranquil gardens overlooking the vineyard where you could sit and sip wine. And both places had gigantic signs out front that said "No Buses or Limos". So, biking was for the best as we wouldn't have been able to visit these gorgeous vineyards if we had gone with my plan. Plus, I looked pretty boss on a bike
We then went out for a night on the town. [Edited to remove details: What happens in Greenport stays there.]
I definitely didn't want to say goodbye to everyone the next day. It's nice that I'll see them for the wedding weekend in September, but the boys will be there this time and it just won't be the same. Andrea and I went on another coffee run on Sunday morning. For the non-Dunkin addicts, we stopped at the cafe next door. Back to the clueless locals...this coffee shop had two sizes of iced coffee. Small Weenie Dixie Cup and Super Gigantic Incredibly Hulky In-Your-Face size. It seemed that they didn't think that people might actually want a normal-sized iced coffee. Faced with a tough decision, we got everyone the Mega-buckets...I think they were grateful(?). For scale purposes, we put them next to my Dunkins medium:
After coffee, we packed up and went back to the ferry. Andrea and I didn't get on the same boat as the others...again. But, we were old pros at this by now and that was par for the course. We were however on the same boat as about 150-200 boy scouts. They were everywhere you looked and scurrying around like mice. It definitely could have been worse...if you're going to be stuck with 200 male tweens, it's nice to be stuck with ones who act like...well, boy scouts. But, the line for the snack bar was a monstrosity.
So, that does it for our wine weekend. I definitely recommend a trip up there if you're ok with ferries and you like mega-buckets of coffee and wine. Check out the links because the places that I mentioned are really fantastic. And feel free to let me know what you think of them.
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