For Anonymous, Who Misses Me Even Though I Continue to Suck
Sweet, sweet Anonymous, I know I suck. I know. Really I do. But you see since that last post my entire world has exploded into a clusterfuck of real estate transactions. Not complaining -- I waited a long time for this shit.
We are buying a house. After a year of looking. I spent a motherfucking YEAR looking for a house in this city because I would not leave my restaurants. 6 offers later, we are in escrow.
Also. We are selling our condo. Again -- in escrow. Let's all say a silent prayer that the wheels don't come off on this one, shall we?
Additionally. Moving. With a 17 month old. There is not enough liquor in the world.
So, you see, the problem is really that I have no fucking time (or money) to eat out. Trust me, this leaves a much bigger void in my soul than lack of my writing could ever possibly leave in yours. (Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah my pain is worse than yours! I mean, honestly, why do you even put up with this crap?)
The best I can do right now is this: I got to hang out in the kitchen with my boy Scott during the re-opening of his bar, 15 Romolo. They have food now, and it is dee-lish. Even if it wasn't, the drinks (and the movie nights and gong show karaoke) are worth the trek over there.
"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld