traDDitional

So Shilpa had a date tonight. But the FOB called and said he'd be late. As in, "instead of 6:30 how about 9:00/9:30." Yeah. Whatever. She called, but at 8:00, I was still at work. Tomorrow's a crap busy day, and I need to prepare all of next week tonight as I will be in meetings from 8:00 to 4:00 tomorrow, but have the possibility of jury duty starting Monday.

So, having no car and no groceries, I was going to walk over to Crêpes on Cole for a dinner salad. Shilpa wanted to get together for a drink and socialize before her date—her interest in which was diminishing by the minute. She had started already (go girl) and I agreed to meet at our favorite Café Flore. We managed to time it so we caught the same train.

Love this girl. We are what to the other makes daily life with Señorita Psycophath bearable. And she is such a silly drunk. Happy, lovable, giggly, and hilarious.

I ordered the chicken breast with rice and veggies. I can't identify any (meaning the presence of) seasonings on the rice, chicken, or veggies, but all are amazing— light, buttery, but not buttery and melt-in-your-mouth. Seriously folks, if you ever get to SF, Flore is the best place for lunch. I would say dinner, but if you are a tourist you should do something tourist-y. This is a neighborhood place, sensibly priced, recently gained a liquor license, and is oh so good. Later, the cafe becomes Bistroteque. Something I have not yet experienced. But I digress.

Gems from the dinner (evening of her watching me eat) with Shilps:

Walking from the Muni:
"It's like that song: NoTika Masala! It means 'no curries!'"

At dinner:
"That's why it's so hard for me to meet Indian guys. They look at me and see an independent woman and don't know what to do. But if they get to know me they learn I'm charming, speak three native languages, visit my parents regularly, and can cook up a native storm. And I've got double D's. What is their problem?!"
"I've got a new calling card for you: Shilpa Anonymous: traDDitional."

Enjoy this post while it lasts. I know she will e-mail me later tonight and demand its removal. Can't say I blame her. But c'mon!

And as she was leaving... btw, FOB called when I got on the train and said he was already at the bar at 8:30. She was planning on 9/9:30 and left here at 9:20, loathe to leave her number one gay. I am, clearly, fabulous company.

As she was leaving, I say to her, "Call me if you need rescuing. I'll take a cab, check my bag, and pretend to pick you up at the bar."
"Thanks Sweetie."
She walks to the exit, turns on a heel, and shouts past the other diners, with a somewhat accusatory tone, "I'LL BE TEXTING YOU!" Turns, and gets a cab.

The other diners turn in unison and look at me.
"Straight girl. First date." I say.
Seriously, all together, heads nod and one hears the waves of "Ahhhh."
Me, left alone at the table with my entree and wine, say "Drama, table of one, your table is now available."

Love that girl.