Fall? Autumn? Flautumn.
I GET TO START WEARING JACKETS AGAIN AWWWW YEAH
Due to several YouTube videos I've been watching about one particular westerner's experiences in Japan, I've been craving really good food and not just the Cup Noodles my financial situation necessitates. I decided to alleviate this desire with the help of an old TGI Friday's gift card I hadn't put to use.
I hadn't used it because that place sucks.
I'm certainly down a few people to do things with, what with John being a busy new father and Julia being in England -- and Demi is an hour and a half away, so (almost) weekly hangouts are the best we can manage. However, even with all those people around, nobody was eager to go to Friday's. It's kinda... polished douche in there.
But I've been in a good mood, so I decided to treat myself. Thus, I entered the establishment and uttered those feared words: "Table for one, please."
I actually probably only said "One" in response to "How many?" Then they asked if I wanted to be seated somewhere horrible for horrible reasons, to which I responded, "No."
Bet you didn't know I could speak bold.
They didn't, either.
So I was seated alone in a booth, nearby large parties of (generously speaking) people. I reiterate: polished douche. WORSE STILL: I was greeted at the door by a small poster advertising a lobster and steak dinner for fifteen fucking dollars. So when the waiter asked me if I knew what I wanted, I said, "Yeah, I'll have that deal on the door, for the lobster and steak." And he informed me that it was a Monday to Friday deal only.
THAT'S IT
I'VE HAD IT WITH THESE MONKEYFIGHTING SNAKES
AND THIS MONDAY-FRIDAY DEAL
I actually said, "Aghh, son of a crap, okay," and he gave me a few minutes to choose the thing I was planning to get before the empty promise of the door: steak. Just, regular, just... steak.
I'd done this before, you know. There was a time, a few months ago, when I had still more gift cards, and finally convinced myself it was okay to dine alone. So I got a steak and did some writing (more backstory/structure/planning, but novel-related nonetheless), and felt good about it. In fact, it was one of the moments when I contemplated coming back here and writing about it, yet never did
UNTIL NOW.
So I decided to repeat that positive experience. However: The steak was smaller than last time (acceptable because I only ever eat small portions anyway, yet still, felt a bit ripped off), not medium, as I requested (more like just on the line of "well done," which was fine, I'm not super goddamn picky), and overall just kind of okay. But! I did get some good writing done, and even drew inspiration from a bit of my surroundings, so that alone made things worthwhile.
I then continued writing at Dunkin Donuts with the first pumpkin latte of the season, and all was wonderful.
Fuck, I wish I could just stay out all day and night, steaks and lattes and writing. Or just some worthwhile snacks and writing. Yet I come home and shit just gets ruined.
Due to several YouTube videos I've been watching about one particular westerner's experiences in Japan, I've been craving really good food and not just the Cup Noodles my financial situation necessitates. I decided to alleviate this desire with the help of an old TGI Friday's gift card I hadn't put to use.
I hadn't used it because that place sucks.
I'm certainly down a few people to do things with, what with John being a busy new father and Julia being in England -- and Demi is an hour and a half away, so (almost) weekly hangouts are the best we can manage. However, even with all those people around, nobody was eager to go to Friday's. It's kinda... polished douche in there.
But I've been in a good mood, so I decided to treat myself. Thus, I entered the establishment and uttered those feared words: "Table for one, please."
I actually probably only said "One" in response to "How many?" Then they asked if I wanted to be seated somewhere horrible for horrible reasons, to which I responded, "No."
Bet you didn't know I could speak bold.
They didn't, either.
So I was seated alone in a booth, nearby large parties of (generously speaking) people. I reiterate: polished douche. WORSE STILL: I was greeted at the door by a small poster advertising a lobster and steak dinner for fifteen fucking dollars. So when the waiter asked me if I knew what I wanted, I said, "Yeah, I'll have that deal on the door, for the lobster and steak." And he informed me that it was a Monday to Friday deal only.
THAT'S IT
I'VE HAD IT WITH THESE MONKEYFIGHTING SNAKES
AND THIS MONDAY-FRIDAY DEAL
I actually said, "Aghh, son of a crap, okay," and he gave me a few minutes to choose the thing I was planning to get before the empty promise of the door: steak. Just, regular, just... steak.
I'd done this before, you know. There was a time, a few months ago, when I had still more gift cards, and finally convinced myself it was okay to dine alone. So I got a steak and did some writing (more backstory/structure/planning, but novel-related nonetheless), and felt good about it. In fact, it was one of the moments when I contemplated coming back here and writing about it, yet never did
UNTIL NOW.
So I decided to repeat that positive experience. However: The steak was smaller than last time (acceptable because I only ever eat small portions anyway, yet still, felt a bit ripped off), not medium, as I requested (more like just on the line of "well done," which was fine, I'm not super goddamn picky), and overall just kind of okay. But! I did get some good writing done, and even drew inspiration from a bit of my surroundings, so that alone made things worthwhile.
I then continued writing at Dunkin Donuts with the first pumpkin latte of the season, and all was wonderful.
Fuck, I wish I could just stay out all day and night, steaks and lattes and writing. Or just some worthwhile snacks and writing. Yet I come home and shit just gets ruined.