My two BFFs and I have a tradition wherein we go out for a fancy meal in January instead of buying each other Christmas gifts. Generally, I have plenty of funds in January for such a splurge, but this Christmas knocked me on my ass financially (because of non-fun purchases like tires for my car, a roof for the house and, the most non-fun purchase of my entire life, having my poor sweet old dog put to sleep) so we decided to dine in early February before my paycheck was otherwise allocated (sorry, Verizon, maybe next month).
The dinner is always Hallie, Robin and myself, but sometimes if the fancy strikes us, we invite others as well. This year, we invited Tammi, who loves television so much that she has two DVRs with which to record her stories. This makes me enjoy her company, well, this and her unapologetic use of the word cunnilingus in regular conversation. Hallie and I also love television, and the three of us can talk for hours about what we've seen. The conversation that night went a little like this:
Me: Hey Tammi, do you watch Project Runway?
Tammi (looking at me as though I'm totally retarded): Of course I watch Project Runway.
Me: How much do you love/hate Christian?
Tammi: He's fierce.
Hallie: Totally.
Robin (who does not watch television): Blink...Blink, Blink.
We were eating at place in Wallingford called Tilth which is one of those places that changes the menu regularly based on what's in season. Honestly, since we ate way back in the dark dreary winter, and now the sun is shining, I can't remember much about the meal. Except that there was pork belly. And lamb. But the lamb had too much other stuff on it so it wasn't lamby enough for me. Then there were some veggies too. They were probably good.
The best part of the evening (other than Tammi talking about how awesome cunnilingus is) was at the end when a very very drunk guy with Morrissey hair started yelling at one of the servers about being disrespected. Because nothing is more respectable than a drunk 80s-looking hipster. He was kicked out while his girlfriend stayed behind to try to soothe some feathers. Feathers which were promptly ruffled again when the guy smashed a couple of terracotta flower pots on the porch. Sweet.
I suppose it's right and proper that the most memorable parts of the evening involved oral sex and violence to flower pots. But it seems like if the food had been better, I would have remembered it more. Maybe I'll try again one day with a less interesting group of people on a more sedate evening. But what fun would that be?
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