Joelle said at some point on July 17, 2007
So, a few weeks ago, I swung through the McD’s drive-thru for some ungodly reason and ordered a mushroom burger. I get it home and it’s raw inside. Annoying, yes, so I call up the joint and give them my beef, so to speak. Jennifer the Manager puts my name on a list to get a replacement for free the next time I come by. I rarely eat at McDonald’s (especially since the McBone incident), so it’s taken me this long to cash in on that. I was at the post office yesterday and with McD’s right there, I hit the drive-thru to get my freebie.
I told them at the speaker that my name was on a list, but they put me on hold to get someone else. A couple minutes later someone else comes to the speaker and I give my order again. Then I pulled forward to the second window where I’m greeted by an extremely snot-faced girl with her hair greased so tight into a ponytail she looked permanently surprised. She also sported that little curl of fringe in front like she hairsprayed it and then used the curling iron. Her lipstick was a lovely shade of frosted raw porkchop, lined in what could only be described as dried blood. And I kid you not, her name tag said “Quanshunta”.
“Mmmkay, that’ll be… uh.... $6.48,” she said, as though I just had just awakened her from a coma.
I replied, “Oh… I’m on Jennifer’s list? This sandwich is just a replacement...” Her blue airbrushed talons came jutting out the window, dangling the white McDonald’s sack and she said, “OK, fine. Here!” as though my dialogue is keeping her from dealing with pressing matters of State.
Visibly holding a five dollar bill in my hand, I quickly said, “In the confusion, I’d forgotten to say I’d like to add on a Diet Coke —” but before I could finish, she cuts me off.
“We’re out of that,” she said, without missing a beat.
“Oh, I see. Well, I’m willing to pay for it.... Wait, you’re out of Diet Coke?” I said, a bit confused. “Are you really out of soda or are you just saying that so you don’t have to turn 45 degrees, stick a cup under a spout and press a button?”
I haven’t seen an eyeroll that over the top since I was in junior high. “Whatever!” she sighed and waved her hand, dismissing me.
I pulled away, muttering not-fit-to-print obscenities about her virtue under my breath and decided that not only was I no longer hungry, I didn’t trust that burger one bit. Quanshunta had “I spit in your food” written all over her. It could have been perfectly fine, but I wasn’t willing to risk it.
I’ll make my own mushroom burger. It’s better anyway. Damn you, Quanshunta. *shakes fist*
Joelle said at some point on July 15, 2007
I’m sitting outside BevMo right now sipping coffee, waiting for it to open. Is it odd to sit in front of a liquor store on a Sunday morning?
posted from my cell phone
Joelle said in the early morning on July 14, 2007
posted from my cell phone
It’s GFI’s birthday this weekend, so we decided to go out last night to this new supper club / jazz venue downtown called Anthology. They’ve only been open a month, but they have some pretty good acts coming through there, which usually require tickets anywhere from $15-$80 a pop, depending on the act and where you’re seated in the 3-tiered dining venue. As much as the words “dinner theater” tend to evoke images of Tony & Tina’s Wedding, the set-up in there is primarily dining, with a bar and small cocktail lounge area to the front of the building. Also, the dining is a separate cost from the tickets, so be prepared for that if you decide to go.
Last night it was the house band playing, so there was no cover. We got dolled up, had a glass of wine at home first then took a cab down to Anthology. As soon as we walked in, we knew we were in love with it. The inside is just gorgeous and the music was great. The house band was really solid and the female vocalist (whose name I can’t recall) had a smoky, soothing voice. They played some of my favorites and from our seat in the lounge, we had a perfectly clear view of the stage. There were also plasma TVs all over the place so you wouldn’t miss a thing. During the breaks, they would play vintage jazz performances on the screens, too. So awesome.
GFI and I decided to live on the edge last night, so we ordered a couple high-end appetizers just for kicks. We got Ahi tuna tartare with peddlefish caviar and a small potato “tot” thing. (Like a tater tot, but the potatoes inside were whipped, like a bite-sized twice-baked potato.) It was a true amuse-bouche, as we had almost exactly 2 bites and it was gone. Same for our second appetizer, which was a blue cheese quiche served with a cherry balsamic reduction, crumbled walnuts and a bit of pesto. Again, about 3 bites… but so worth it. Delicious. I’m just a pseudo-foodie, but the real gourmands would really dig the dishes here, I think.
Then came the cocktails: what was supposed to be just one glass of wine turned into 3 martinis, but hey, what can you do? We were celebrating! I had something called a Kind of Blue, which was Stoli Bluberi, fresh lemon, fresh blueberries, a blast of soda and a bit of simple syrup served on the rocks in a collins glass. I can’t wait to make that one at home. GFI had a Black and Blue Gimlet, which was gin, blackberries and blueberries muddled with a simple sugar and something else I can’t remember. It was a deep pink and really yummy. The next round, I decided to stick with vodka and had a simple Cosmopolitan. I rarely order those because bartenders tend to go heavy on the cranberry and I like my Cosmo’s really, really pale. This one was a bit dark, but it was really smooth and I suspect they have some secret ingredient. GFI had a momentary lapse of reason and ordered a Manhattan. That conversation went a little like this:
GFI: Ooo… I want a Manhattan! I’ve never had one before!
Me: *eyeing her* Dude, are you sure? Do you drink whiskey or bourbon much?
GFI: Oh sure! I was a tomboy. I used to drink whiskey sours. I can take it!! (she says, as she bangs her chest like Celine Dion)
Me: I see, so tonight you’re going to really grow a pair and have a Manhattan. Okaaaaay…
GFI: Well, they did it on Sex and the City!
I laugh only because I avoid “brown liquor” quite often. It has hangover written all over it, but GFI wanted a Manhattan and by god she was going to have one. I really wanted to see how she liked it. So, our drinks arrive and we toast. The next thing I hear is…
GFI: Damn! Now that’s some HOOCH!
I nearly fell off my very fancy barstool I laughed so hard. Hooch. And you know, she was right. I don’t care how elegantly you want to serve Jack Daniel’s, it’s hooch. There’s something about the smell that says “I should be drinking this out of a barrel”. Anyway, she asked me to take a sip to prove that it was, indeed, hooch. The smell alone was giving me flashbacks of nights in my mid-twenties spent on my bathroom floor thanks to Southern Comfort (there’s nothing comfortable about Southern Comfort — they lie.). But, I took the tiniest sip and declared that it would put hair on her chest, to which she replied, “No!! On my nads!”
Now, when a beautiful, exotic woman like GFI in her little Audrey Hepburn dress declares “No! On my nads!” with the more excited tone ever, it’s absolutely priceless. Assuming she meant the nads she grew earlier by ordering the Manhattan in the first place, and not pre-existing nads I was unaware of, it was damn funny. How many more times can I say nads?
Anyway, so we wrapped up the house band’s second set with a martini called After the Show, which was… uh… let’s see if I can remember… Oh! Stoli Vanil, Kahlua French Vanilla, Baileys, decaf espresso and a wee drizzle of chocolate inside the glass. I’m not one for dessert martinis or creamy drinks, but this was light and delicious. The perfect capper to our evening.
But wait! There’s more!
While out waiting for our cab to go home, GFI decides we’re going to Mr. A’s to have a glass of wine on the terrace so we can look out over the whole city. We’d both gone there as kids with our parents, so it was sort of nostalgic and really, the view from there any time of day, especially at night, is just breathtaking. We had the wine steward order us some fancy wine, which we sipped, took in the view and mocked the parade of Russian models strutting around with their bitchy mom who sounded like Donatella Versace.
Ahhh… good times. Anyway, if you’re ever in San Diego, you like tasty martinis and a really decent house band, go check out Anthology. Sara Gazarek will be there at the end of the month for two nights at reasonable ticket prices, if you’re interested.
Joelle said at some point on July 12, 2007
I think I need to take a photography class. I am beginning to feel frustrated with my new camera, though it’s not the camera’s fault — it’s mine. I’m sure that will send up a resounding gasp and a bunch of “god, she gets a camera for free and she has the nerve to bitch about it?!"-type responses, but I was asked to be straightforward with my experiences, so that’s what I’m doing. I’m not ungrateful, I’m honest.
So far, I’m pretty amazed by this camera. It takes gorgeous photos overall, but I find it limiting in many ways — mostly because I don’t know how to use all the features and am not patient enough to figure it out. The booklet seems daunting and I’m more of a hands-on learner. There are so many incredible photographs taken with D80’s and even within the Picture This project pool. I want to be able to do that! Hence, I think I should take a class.
I feel a little hindered by the sheer size of the camera. I’m just not accustomed to it yet. I love how it looks and how the shutter sound makes me feel like I’m doing something important. But, with my point and click Sony camera, I was able to snap something at a moment’s notice. I could just whip it out and get the shot. Now I feel as though if I want to take a photo of anything, I have to make sure I’ve got the lens cap off, I’ve got it on the right setting, I assess the light, adjust, focus more (if it doesn’t auto-focus for whatever reason) and then try to get the shot. Usually whatever it is I was trying to take a photo of is either long gone by then or it comes out blurry because all the settings are starting to feel the same to me now. I’m having trouble figuring out the subtle nuances of each setting. I thought I had them down, but sometimes they feel so similar, I can’t tell what I’m doing wrong.
This is the part where avid photographers tell me to get a tripod. And I want one, I do. Of course, as Kathy pointed out this morning, “You don’t want to carry about your camera, but you’re going to schlep a tripod now, too?” But that’s not it at all. I DO want to carry my camera and would schlep a tripod! I just think I would feel more inclined to do so if I wasn’t worried every second of something happening to it (since it’s not technically mine) and/or I felt like the shots I took were worth all the effort.
I’m having some amateur photography ennui right now, can you tell? I want a new creative outlet and think I have an eye for this, but when you fill up a 1 GB flashcard and only one decent photo comes out of it, it’s a bit discouraging. Maybe it’s just how photography works. Or, maybe that’s just how discovering a new hobby works. It’s been a long time since I really tried anything to the point of wanting to invest the time to become good at it. Whatever it is, a class certainly couldn’t hurt.
Peter said, “Less flowers, more people!” Yeah, well, flowers don’t move, buddy. Call me in a month when I know my aperture from my ass and then we’ll talk portraits.
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