After relaxing on my death bed for a good part of yesterday, I am feeling so much better. Thank you everyone for your “get well wishes” , except no thank you to the terrible people who asked me if I were pregnant. Especially John. Yesterday, after I regained my strength, John and I went to our favorite Polish restaurant, Neptune, in the East Village. They don’t even have a website, but that’s because they are really busy making delicious fried dumplings. They are delicious and I think cure most ailments.
Except it took like forever to get our order and because I am very impatient when starving, I started to whine and John had to take out his iPhone to entertain me, much like you would a cranky four year old. He showed me the doodle feature and then drew pictures of food, and I had to guess what it was. It was a drumstick. I got it right immediately because he’s like the Van Gogh of drumstick art.
The wait was excruciating, and when I got home, I saw that I was in good company in being upset about the wait. In good and perfectly normal company. These are my people:
click on image to enlarge. Trust me, you don’t want to miss one word of this.
What the fuck are zig zags and why does he go through them so often? But I love the “fruit-less and meal-less” line.
oh, but it gets better:
but at least there are some pros:
I know that this is what some in the restaurant industry might call a “negative” review, but that description of the cups as “old and mysterious” has me intrigued. And even he admits that the potatoes are really good! Good enough to put up with the busy Gestapo waitresses. Which makes me think that if the Gestapo ever wanted to improve their image, they just need to get a few fantastic potato recipes.
Anyway. And Awkward Transition.
Don’t forget to check out The Mouthy Housewives today. I am dispensing advice like it’s Xanax, based on my personal bedroom antics with Husbandrinka.