300th Post

I'd like to institute a new neighborhood covenant/restriction:

All rotten pumpkins must be removed from your yard before you can put up your Christmas decorations.

The Opposite of Fun

Once again I had to torture myself by carving a pumpkin using a stencil. You can't tell, but on the back is a cat and when lit it casts a shadow. In the middle of all this I started swearing and sweating (and stepped on a shard of broken glass) and said I'd never do it again. I'm oddly pleased by how the rats look like my sister's old guinea pig. I'll leave the question of whether or not I purchased a half-priced stencil book today unanswered.

Last night after our 13th trick or treater dressed up as him/herself, we instituted a new rule: "If you can't be bothered to dress up, we can't be bothered to give you a Snickers or Butterfinger. You will receive a Starburst instead."

I Still Have The Skeeves

Because I like to believe that I'm more sophisticated than I really am, I chose a fancy-pants restaurant for my birfday dinner.

Because I like to throw away hard-earned money, I ordered the tasting menu (7 courses of pretentious, small portions of food).

Because I like to please others, I consumed FOIE GRAS-INFUSED STRAWBERRY ICE CREAM. I put it in my mouth and swallowed it. I really did.

I don't know if it was supposed to cleanse my palate like sorbet, but whatever. I have very specific food rules: no veal, no tuna from companies who kill dolphins, and no liver from a goose who was force fed to death.

Lesson learned. Just because it's expensive, just because your waiter looks and talks exactly like Stephen from Top Chef, and just because the restaurant is critically acclaimed does not mean it's good. Next year will more than likely find me at Applebee's eating baby back ribs.