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2 min read Food

India Dream

I'm delirious. I've listened to Benny Goodman's "Sing, Sing, Sing" about 10 times today. I'm on page 23. I'm almost done. I'm more done than I was when I was on page 7.5. I tried to close the document about a half hour ago, only to open it right back up. I can't let it go. Amazing. I'm attached to it. I can't wait to see what it will feel like to turn it in. Maybe I'll clutch it so hard that Blackburn will be unable to take it. Or maybe I'll just throw it at him.

I saw The Emperor's Club last night with Joanne. it was terrible. Joanne got tears in her eyes and sniffled at the end. It was embarrassing. I rolled my eyes throughout the entire thing. Luckily, I was able to entertain myself by accurately predicting everything that was going to happen. Dumb. After the movie, we went to an Indian restaurant. It was my second this week. What lured us to this particular joint out of the 10 or so located on E. 5th (or is it 6th?) and 2nd Ave. was the 50% off coupon that someone was handing out.

And this brings me to the: Top 6 (I could only think of 6) reasons why we should not have eaten at the India Rose on Saturday night:

  1. Someone was handing out 50% off coupons at the door.

  2. Someone was handing out 50% off coupons at the door in cold temperatures (It was hard to talk because my lips were numbing just a bit.)

  3. The sheer emptiness of the place. Did I mention that it was a Saturday night? In the East Village? I have a new theatrically inspired rule: If the restaurant staff outnumbers the customers, I will find another restaurant.

  4. The greeter/manager/waiter/cashier/dish dryer had halitosis. Please don't blow your words on me if you have stank breath. Especially when you're handing me my food.

  5. The stank-breathed greeter/manager/waiter/cashier/dish dryer was wearing an extremely offensive toupee. Now, I'm not against the toupee. A correctly worn and sufficiently color-matched toupee works. They can be adequate fashion aids for the embarrassed balding man or woman. But don't have it sliding off your head. Because it might fall in my food and bring with it anything else you might have hiding up in there.

  6. When we asked for water, the toupee-wearin',stank-breathed greeter/manager/waiter/cashier/dish dryer grunted. Don't grunt when your only customers ask for water. It's just not right. Well, it's almost my bed time. When you next hear from me, my slavery paper will be out of my hands.

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