Dinner is subjective

I enjoyed a nice dinner & drinks last night with the Rob Neill. Might I recommend the $6 hibiscus margarita happy hour at Casa Mezcal? (Might I? I might. Yes. I did. Well, you saw. You just read that I recommended it. There’s no “might.” Oh, you.)

Also, mega-powerful girly drinks at the Tiki bar Pain Killer, which does not open when they say they’ll open, especially when it is THUNDERSLEETING outside, but later if you come back, they’ll probably be open and they’ll sell you night-stoppingly sweetstrong beverages.

In between, pesto penne & a lamb sloppy joe at 88 Orchard. We are foodies. Not really. Rob is. Maybe. I’m not. But I like food. And beverages. And all in all a nice time with excellent conversation and gastric input for a few hours.

Then I went home. And walked into the kitchen to get some water. And I saw this.

Strange Dinner

Damn you, Jillian. You have defeated me at dinner once again!

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