Um, what? ……….!!!!!!))))))))))

I saw an article today that said you can tell how long a relationship will last based on the way you tell the story of how you met. Or something like that. I didn’t read it. I took it at face value to be true because of the short-lived affair with Hot Chef.

The way I met Hot Chef (the actual way): I was writing an article about a grand re-opening gala at the museum that his new restaurant shares the space with and my editor asked me to also include some information about the adjoining restaurant. When I went to interview him I was pleasantly surprised to find him both attractive and flirty. So, as a lover of food, after my piece was submitted, I casually went to the restaurant on a quiet Tuesday to try the food with one of my best friends (who happens to be smoking hot, and also happens to be in a serious relationship). Crafted plan? Ab-so-fucking-lutely. I’m not stupid. Plus, he was totally flirting with me! Anyway, he walked us to the car and then later *found* my number from our email thread and texted me something sweet about hoping we got home okay. Oh those were the days!  He invited me to be his guest at the gala on Friday. Needless to say, I was stoked. The rest is, well, history.

If you ask Hot Chef: “She stalked me.” (His version is great, isn’t it? So flattering. It is as if he really likes me.)

Did I mention he is funny? So funny.

It also turns out that aside from his brutal How We Met Story he was pretty condescending and mean to me in the day to day, particularly when it came to my work or my evening plans, culminating in one lovely, lovely exchange. You can read about it here.

One of the most notable things about conversing with Hot Chef is his use of punctuation. And capital letters. Is his phone stuck on caps lock or something? Jeeesh. I feel like I want to say, “Calm down and stop yelling at me.”

He was always doing things like this.))))) At first I thought it was cute. And maybe a typo, but it happened all the time. I thought maybe it was his calling card. You know, that way if I deleted his number I’d be sure to know who was texting me. I don’t know, they might be smiley faces? I might never know. As I said, this is history. Recent, but still. Past is past right? Move on already. Maybe not yet. Who can forget gems like this: I was WORKING, not PARTYING!!!!!))))))) <- real text.

Today, I got another assignment kind of on the fly and was email corresponding with my source. Spoiler alert: He’s a dude. He is also the GM at a popular fitness center in town. You can imagine my shock when I get an email from him (a business email no less) with, what I can only assume to be ellipses, except it looks like this……………………………………………………and then he goes on. Um, what? Déjà vu.

Naturally I pulled out my phone and added to the amazing long-running group text with two of my besties and said, “Hey you guys, I met someone who uses more weird punctuation than Hot Chef.” Ha. Who would have thought? Obviously they wanted details. When I explained that I learned about his use of punctuation because I’m writing a story about him/the business, I got a fist bump and a resounding “This gig is great for your dating life!” followed by, “You should send him the blog post preemptively (winky face)”

No winky face! Should you come find me, Sir of the Athletic Club, take a tip from your predecessor and a) be NICE or LEAVE and b) This…………………………………………is not a thing…………!!!!!!!))))) IT IS CONFUSING. AND MAYBE JUST FOR THOSE OVER FORTY??

Seriously. What is that?


Let’s go a’Kin!

Today I will not regale you with stories of the foregone conclusion that embodies Sometimes Boyfriend or even attempt an explanation as to why he may, or may not, still be relevant in my life. I will also save the jaw dropping variety of mean texts that Hot Chef sent my way for later. (Yes, there was a Hot Chef. No, I’m not ready to talk about it.) I swear, no tears in Bananas-land. Today, we are talking about food.

The other day I got a text from one of my best friends about making plans for dinner at Kin. My first thought was sending a silly emoji that captures the frustration of autocorrect. Because what is Kin? Seriously. A note on autocorrect: NO ONE IS EVER DUCKING. What is ducking? I’m either sexting or I’m super pissed and DUCKing is definitely not a thing. Basically autocorrect is the kryptonite to being mad or having phone sex. No prissy is doing anything. It is my pussy. Get with the program, iPhone. You are ruining my sass.

Come a’Kin? Ha sorry I was dying to use that. Back to Kin. As it turns out, Kin is a restaurant.  The space takes up a mostly barren stretch of a street that crosses between the Garden District and Mid City so, although it is kind of isolated, it is definitely on the way to, or from, lots of things. It sits under a billboard which is kind of funny, but across the street there is a gorgeous garden store so the outside vista is actually more lush than the address implies.

The food was great although the service was humorous at best. This was a thank you dinner for watching basically the coolest cat (feline, not jazz musician) that has ever existed (may mine rest in peace) so really no thanks were necessary but it was still a lovely gesture. Also we got to exercise our cool muscles by trying out this new eatery basically in the middle of nowhere. See and be seen, bitches.

But really though, our server was utterly uncomfortable with the fact that we were just chatting and wanted to order an appetizer and then go from there as opposed to just planning out our whole meal. Kind of annoying. We were catching up and wanted to pace the meal as we saw fit, as well as, feel out how big the portions were since neither of us had been there.

We may have been slightly punished for that because the time delay between food ordered and food served was immense. They have no liquor license so we ran out of wine before we had time for the fish course but the chilled shrimp dish we started with had this amazingly surprising peel of cucumber that just would not stop. It was comical to eat. I thought I was reaching over to to make a bite but that cucumber, it just kept unraveling. Mesmerizing. I also ordered some variety of meat… it was delicious. It was probably a cheek and I believe it was braised so it was super tender and then crispy fried. YUM. I can’t find their menu online to confirm what, exactly, was consumed. But it was good. And there were a lot of veggies on the plate that did not mix with the meat so my dear pescetarian friend had some bites too.

Bread is served with miso butter, something new to me. The sweetness of the mixture was interesting but I kept eating it more out of curiosity than out of actually preferring it. We waited a little too long to order our second course, the ravioli dish. It took for…e…ver and we did a quick inventory of our bottle of wine and realized that it would be a 30 minute wait if we ordered the fish dish that we talked about and just skipped to dessert.

No hot coffee!! Sad face. I don’t know if they are applying for a liquor license or not, but as of now it is BYO so plan ahead as nothing is nearby. I flipped through some photos on Yelp today. I’m doing a cleanse starting tomorrow, so… maybe again in July!? Who’s coming with me? #occupycommunaltable.

Don’t Jostle The Coffee

It is morning and my office has a serious mold problem. I basically can’t breathe and I’ve had a sinus headache since I started here 6 weeks ago. My apologies for once again neglecting my dear Bananas.

On my desk there are piles of paper that have the former glory of attempted organization, but are now half-covered by a multitude of other printed information that, without a designated pile of its own, is spread out over all available surface area so that it can be easily found if needed. This system does not really differentiate well between important and unimportant documents. My coffee is far too close to the long phone cord that inevitably is so tangled that it is difficult to lift the ancient receiver to take a call. There are four drops of old coffee that have hardened all too close to the receiver, reminding me that not only is this clearly my daily designated coffee spot, but it is far, far too close to technology.

A few years ago I started as an intern at this super posh PR firm and was very excited about my almost desk and the laptop to go with it. It was probably week one or two, and I was kind of crushing it. It turns out I was a natural. The PR firm was (and is) run by a power gay couple. These two guys were the perfect duo. The PR guy was the friendly boss and his partner (who never wore anything except gym shorts and sneakers) maintained all the technology and HR stuff for the company. Gym Shorts managed to run around seemingly busy all the time while simultaneously looking like he just came from the gym or was headed to the gym. He was kind of scary. I don’t think he liked me. He probably saw right through my nicely put together ensemble and called my bullshit outright. For good reason.

Week two (one?) I spilled my newly poured coffee (made from the single cup Keurig in my fancy Marigny office kitchen) ALL OVER my almost desk. OH MY FUCKING GOD. Seriously, I still think about it and shudder. Somehow, magically, no one saw. It was all over my notebook, dripping down the flat surface where my computer was sitting, and most definitely all over my keyboard. FUCK. I cleaned up as best as I could and it looked like nothing happened… until I tried to use my keyboard. A few keys did not work. Notably, the question mark.

With a renewed sense of panic, I brought my computer into the kitchen, announcing that I think there was some dust in the keyboard and started blasting the thing with dust-off (you know, the shit the kids in the suburbs used to huff when bored) and prayed for a miracle. After some time I declared defeat but I couldn’t bring myself to go to HR/Tech Support. (Same person! WTF!) I decided, then and there, that I would finish out my internship sans question mark. I set a shortcut on Word and went on with my day….

But guess what, bitches? You use question marks a lot. You know who else does? Tech guy that set up my login/password so the next morning when I come to work, I couldn’t sign in to my computer because to do so, I needed a question mark.

With a sigh and a shudder I brought myself to Gym Shorts, the HR/Tech guy and said (the truth): “I can’t log on to my computer.”

Gym Shorts: “That is strange. Did something happen?”

Me: “Not sure, I came in this morning and the question mark key didn’t work.” (Half-truth.)

Gym Shorts: (plugs in an external keyboard…) “Weird, it seems like everything is working fine with the computer, are you sure something didn’t happen (read: SPILL)?”

Me: “Hmmm (pause) Maybe coffee? I jostled my coffee yesterday but I thought most of it went on my notebook.”

Gym Shorts: (much later…) “So, I lifted up the keyboard and there was a lot… a LOT of coffee under there. I fixed it.”

Me: Silence. “Weird!? Thanks.”

DON’T JOSTLE YOUR COFFEE. But if you outright spill, definitely say you may have jostled your coffee and that might be the cause of your technology problem.