A Man Walks Into a Bar . . .

T. and I got together after work last night for “a” drink at Orleans. I love that place, as yupscaled as it may be — mostly because when it’s warm, they open up all the windows just like they do in New Orleans, and the entire front part of the room is filled with these enormous overstuffed
chairs and couches and strategically placed side and coffee tables. I can’t think of anything more luxurious than sipping a girlie drink with my friends in a super soft chair after a hard day in the acid mines.

We ended up staying for dinner (after three martinis, there was no way I was inclined to leave my comfy chair) and split an avacado salad, fusilli with pea greens and asparagus, and ginger creme brulee. (Gotta say, the addition of the ginger didn’t really do it for me, although it probably helped to settle my stomach after so much vodka.) T. had just bought this great cookbook that explained the origins of many dishes, and as she
flipped through it, I amazed her with my knowledge of such dishes as Hangtown Fry, Finnan Haddie, and Chess Pie. I realized that I must own that book, so after dinner we stumbled to MacIntyre & Moore so I could get one, too. (It was only 5 bucks — quelle value!)

I somehow was able to walk home, but at some point in the evening — possibly while fumbling through my overcrowded satchel looking for my rent check to mail — I must have dropped the prescription I’d picked up before meeting up with T. Luckily, I had one pill left in a travel case, and my pharmacy was nice about refilling it today. But still, sheesh.

so i just got the greatest email from D., to wit:

Subject: a man walks into a bar . . .

and he asks the bartender, “Do you know how cool my  girlfriend is?”
and the bartender says, “No, buddy, how cool is your girlfriend?”
and the guys says, “She’s so cool, she has Screaming Fields of Sonic
Love!

and the bartender says, “The hell you talking about? Are you gonna order a drink, or what?”

Off I go, into glorious oblivion,
– editrix



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