taylor 30
I met my new roommate today. She was a cute, wide-eyed girl, probably a lot younger than I am. I think she's a passing acquaintance of my current roomies, but that's fine by us. None of us want to move, and we're happy that we were able to find someone, anyone, to put that off for at least another few months. I showed up at her place of employment to introduce myself and asked the girl behind the counter for her by name. The girl's brown eyes got wide. She paused. Then she said, "That's me..." I explained who I was and she took a deep breath. I liked her right away, though I'm positive she shouldn't be the one in charge of our energy bill.
Afterwards, I walked toward home happy, but I was distracted by one of downtown's only exclusive restaurants. I'd never eaten there, though I'd been there for drinks a couple times. I sauntered in, T-shirt and shorts, but they informed me that my attire was fine. The bow-tied waitress asked me if I'd like a table, and I said I'd be fine sitting at the bar. I ordered the cheapest thing I could fine, shrimp scampi and wild rice, though that was still about 20 bucks. I also got a Manhattan, with Crown Royal whisky. I got bread and salad with my meal, which was nice considering the scampi was only five pieces of shrimp (albeit of the jumbo variety, or "prawns" as they call them out here). It was all very tasty. Especially the salad. And when I was done with my meal, the waitress asked me if I'd like to see the dessert menu. I said that I wouldn't but would like to know what is good for an after dinner drink. This was an expensive restaurant, and the waiters and waitresses are supposed to know that kind of shit.
I felt like treating myself because I've been having a shitty time of it lately. I'm overwhelmed by work. I feel like I'm drowning.
She said they had a nice selection of port, and that pleased me. I love port. It's sweet and strong and gets me wasted. It also tastes good with chocolate, as I found out one day. I asked her what they had, then realizing that would do me good--because I have no knowledge of such things--I asked her what was good. She answered immediately, "Taylor's 30." I shot back even faster, "Sounds fucking good to me!" But I left out the "fucking."
Soon, the tiny stemmed glass was in front of me, filled almost to the mouth with port. I sniffed it and knew instantly that it was expensive. I took a small sip. "How is it?" she asked. I gushed, "It tastes like maple syrup!" It did. It was amazing. The check came. A glass of Taylor's 30, as it turned out, was more expensive than my entree by one dollar--$18 a glass. I sipped that fucker slow, through three innings of the Giants/Dodgers game. Some rich fuck and his bitch girlfriend sitting next to me started complaining about the price of their mochitos. "They're usually $7," she whined. But the waitress explained they got the best rum in the house--a bottle placed on a glowing blue pedistal. I wanted to scream at them for being snobby, pretentious, cheap mother fuckers who didn't know how good they had it. But the sun was still up. The portions were small, and half a glass into my port and all I could do was stare at the bottle of Grey Goose on the shelves in front of me and read the labels like they were sonnets.
Afterwards, I walked toward home happy, but I was distracted by one of downtown's only exclusive restaurants. I'd never eaten there, though I'd been there for drinks a couple times. I sauntered in, T-shirt and shorts, but they informed me that my attire was fine. The bow-tied waitress asked me if I'd like a table, and I said I'd be fine sitting at the bar. I ordered the cheapest thing I could fine, shrimp scampi and wild rice, though that was still about 20 bucks. I also got a Manhattan, with Crown Royal whisky. I got bread and salad with my meal, which was nice considering the scampi was only five pieces of shrimp (albeit of the jumbo variety, or "prawns" as they call them out here). It was all very tasty. Especially the salad. And when I was done with my meal, the waitress asked me if I'd like to see the dessert menu. I said that I wouldn't but would like to know what is good for an after dinner drink. This was an expensive restaurant, and the waiters and waitresses are supposed to know that kind of shit.
I felt like treating myself because I've been having a shitty time of it lately. I'm overwhelmed by work. I feel like I'm drowning.
She said they had a nice selection of port, and that pleased me. I love port. It's sweet and strong and gets me wasted. It also tastes good with chocolate, as I found out one day. I asked her what they had, then realizing that would do me good--because I have no knowledge of such things--I asked her what was good. She answered immediately, "Taylor's 30." I shot back even faster, "Sounds fucking good to me!" But I left out the "fucking."
Soon, the tiny stemmed glass was in front of me, filled almost to the mouth with port. I sniffed it and knew instantly that it was expensive. I took a small sip. "How is it?" she asked. I gushed, "It tastes like maple syrup!" It did. It was amazing. The check came. A glass of Taylor's 30, as it turned out, was more expensive than my entree by one dollar--$18 a glass. I sipped that fucker slow, through three innings of the Giants/Dodgers game. Some rich fuck and his bitch girlfriend sitting next to me started complaining about the price of their mochitos. "They're usually $7," she whined. But the waitress explained they got the best rum in the house--a bottle placed on a glowing blue pedistal. I wanted to scream at them for being snobby, pretentious, cheap mother fuckers who didn't know how good they had it. But the sun was still up. The portions were small, and half a glass into my port and all I could do was stare at the bottle of Grey Goose on the shelves in front of me and read the labels like they were sonnets.
2 comments:
Holy shit $18! Never heard of that one. Try Para or Grandfather you'll think you've died and gone to heaven!
You splurge on food and booze and I've been splurging on make up and shoes. I'll happily starve if only I can gaze upon my lovely shoes..
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