Y'all, I'm dating a foodie. Like a serious, serious foodie. Because of this I have now been to some of the top restaurants in the United States. It's awesome. And tasty. And my pants are remarkably tight.
Since Sunday the 8th I have eaten out 5 times for dinner. Let that sink in. 5 times at 5 truly amazing places wherein it would be rude to not order an appetizer (or 3), an entree and dessert (or 12). And so I do, because God forbid I'm rude (at least to people's faces). I am completely and utterly ruined for regular people food now. I go to restaurants on my own and when I am not brought an amuse-bouche to start I am literally confused. If they don't change my silverware for me after every course I scratch my head in wonder. It is often confusing for the people behind me in line at Soup Plantation as they can't figure out why I am asking the cashier where the sommelier is.
Stupid fancy food with it's crack like powers. I want more. And I also want it to have zero calories. I think if we are paying that much for chicken it should at least come with a side of meth or a personal trainer to help you burn it off. I'll pitch that idea next time I'm at Craft. I'm sure they'll go for it, right?
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
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