Boo-Boo-Brawley and I have been getting into the habit of lunching together once a week… We try to mix it up and try new things – which yesterday meant checking out the new vegetarian restaurant right down Lindell from out offices.
Govinda’s is tucked into the bottom corner of a the somewhat neglected, deco building which houses the International Society of Krishna Consciousness.
Six bucks and some change got us all-you-can eat Salad and Indian buffet… The selection was slim – but the food was competent… (Actually there was this spicy fried-rice type stuff which was ass-kicking hot and really good).
The interior was freaky… Think: awkwardly open, 80’s appointed, mauve-clad Marriot hospitality suite.
A little indian Krishna guy sat watch over the dining room… He was pleasant, in that vacant, spiritually enlightened sorta way. The rest of the sparse crowd was comprised of a handfull of office workers from neighboring businesses.
There was the unexpected bonus of the carry-out customers who tended to be these jaw-drop beautiful, ethnically-ambiguous rasta-hippy guys with dreadlocks.
I browsed the attached gift-shop while Brawley paid…
Cheep and Spicy. Just like I like my…….
I’m not going there… I’m not blogging either.
Last time we stopped by the bar we picked up a flyer for a fundraiser the local bear club was having,… at all places… an Applebee’s…
Out of the obscene number of them that pepper the suburban St. Louis Landscape – it was at the one who’s parking lot literally backs up to one side of our subdivision. (Apparently they do this thing where your organization can host a night there and a percentage of the ring goes to your charity of choice.)
So… Despite being exiled from the urban-dwelling club-card carrying bear boys,…. and despite our “No-Chain-Food Please” rule…. We figured helping to raise cash for local AIDS charities is a good excuse to get outa the house.
Saw some friendly familiars from the club and schmoozed a little, but we pretty much were left alone. I can only imagine how me must be perceived by the “club”…. OH.. it’s “THOSE” three.. the ones that left the city… quit going out and… and… (gasp) – hang out excessively with a straight girl and are god-fathered to her son.
My god – we ARE circus freaks… At least when I put myself in their shoes.
We took the governor off the go-cart and went nuts ordering appetizers, main dishes AND deserts…
3-course dinner for 5? $90.00… (apparently at Applebee’s is a lot)… I guess it’d be like blowing $15 at White Castle… (I’ve done this before and I’m still ashamed).
We insisted that Andrew get the most intensely chocolate thing on the menu…. All the while shooting playfully evil looks at his mother who tries to keep him away from sweets and on a natural / organic diet.
Chocolate + Andrew = Whirling Dervish
Elise retaliated by asking Andrew if he’d like to spend the night at OUR place.
Touche woman.. TOUCHE.
Je pas blogging.
Alright – so it was a while back I was bitching that the only pizza we could get delivered to our house was “corporate” pies.
So the other night we decided to have a treat and declare “Pizza Night” – and I announced that I’d be perfectly willing to DRIVE and go get it.
I noticed the last time I took the scenic route home that Racanelli’s, (the ONLY place to get authentic New York style pizza in St. Louis), just opened up a second location in neighboring Webster Groves.
I called them to make my order… the girl asked if it was for pick up or delivery… I said… “Pick up… ur.. well… (cynical giggle) – that is unless you deliver as far as Grant and Big Bend.”
She said yes.
I screamed “NO!” and dropped the phone.
She screamed “YES!” … and laughed.
The next three minutes on the phone was spent in a giddy exchange with the nice order-girl talking about how I was convinced that nobody but “the big three” delivered to our area. She sounded as excited as I was.
Nonetheless – we got our pizza… wonderful INDEPENDENT pizza. The New York kind too.. with the bagel-sque chewy but somehow still sorta crisp crust…. – huge slices you gotta fold in half and eat like a taco…
Actually – the biggest novelty that charmed me the most was the hand-written address on the side of the boxes… no computer print-outs and coupon flyers stuck to the boxes.. No annoying movie tie-ins… No strange “other” menu items like “Hot Wings”… Nope.. just PIZZA.
Can’t blog right now – gotta tattoo Racanelli’s phone number onto my inner-thigh.
The days following my return from Florida were of little note… Basically a lot of figuring out what I’ll be working on for the next month or so.. .
Did get out on a press check with Stalker Mike for his letterhead yesterday.
Since we were toward downtown – we stopped into Hard Rock to see Chad and have lunch.
I always say I’ll just have a nice chicken sandwich or their Oriental Salad but wind up getting the damn pulled pork sandwich or nachos.
Yesterday’s erosion of better dietary judgment came in the form of a couple of pounds of chicken nachos.
Finished up and headed back to the house for cheese / corn / salsa coma shortly thereafter.
Out and about today seeing clients and working on a proposal for a long-shot project in Ohio.
oh yeah – and finding other trivia to not-blog about.