I am an unapologetic eavesdropper. See? Now you know better than to say anything in my hearing that isn't meant for my ears. But the way I figure it, if you're saying something loudly enough for me to hear it, you don't have a right to be mad when I post it on the Internet. So there.

On Tuesday night pigs flew and planets collided because Mr. and I went out to dinner. Out! To! Dinner! And on a school night! We went with Kate and Justin because it's a wondrous time known as restaurant week. This means that for $20.05 a head you can eat a tasty three course meal at an expensive restaurant and it helps the food bank and everything. So we went to Millie�s Diner which has fabulous food but is tiny as all get out. When you walk in the miniature kitchen area is directly on your right and you're basically eye-to-eye with the chefs. It's best to not make eye contact or point too much because they are busy and will also be preparing your dinner soon. Speak soothingly and don't piss them off.

So, we wait for a while in a crush of other people and ahead of us is an older couple and the woman is making weird squabbly noises about the menu and items on it. We roll our eyes and speculate instead about the seriously, angrily, unhappy girl sitting at the booth on our left. She's got butternut squash risotto in front of her so I don't know what her fucking problem is. How bad could it be?

The waitress seats the grumbly older couple and then a few minutes later comes back to the kitchen to put in her order and says she has a doozy. At this, my ears perk up and I'm practically doing a backbend to find out what's going on. This is good stuff! Here goes. The grumbly older woman "does not eat chicken, seafood or fish or peanuts. Nor can she have anything with chicken broth in it. Or anything that chicken has touched, been near or been prepared in." Wow. Maybe just don't eat out? That seems sort of extreme, allergy wise, and maybe not worth the risk.

We get seated and proceed to glut ourselves on three courses of beautifully prepared comfort food. Lovely. Did I mention the risotto? Oh my God. Our dining experience was somewhat marred, however, but the loud-ass fucking Marketing Buffoon sitting at the table next to us. He droned on and on and on about himself while his dinner companion sat there looking a bit stunned. I tuned in for a bit and almost guffawed when he threw in the marketing-requisite usage of "sexy" to describe a business deal. Excuse my while I throw up a little in my mouth. Kate couldn't tune him out and was fascinated by what a complete ass he was. Like, it's hard work to suck that much! Damn.

Anyway, if you enjoy and eavesdropping, check out this site: Overheard in New York

I have a lot to catch up on, I know. I haven't even updated my reading list in a few months, I'm that slack. I've been busy though, what with the jewelry stuff. I spent a half an hour yesterday weeping quietly while trying to navigate the stupidest most useless site ever, that being the city's small business assistance site. Hahahaha, assist this, bitches and just TELL ME WHAT I NEED. Just say, idiot, you need this piece of paper and also this thing here to be a legit business. I'm just sick of being sent checks made out to "Keen" because that is not my name or Kate's either. We'll figure it out, but damn, that website is the shittiest.

Also, I've spent many email's worth of time trying to knock heads together over a consignment deal we have. It's like please give us our money. I'm sorry, can we please have our money? Are you a business? Yes? Okay, great, can we have our goddamn money? See, they've sold stuff and seem to have forgotten about how they need to GIVE US MONEY. I think the first employee we hire is going to be a goon.

Last weekend we worked another Bizarre Market and it was okay. The weather was gross but the people watching is always fun. There was this one guy there who is just One of Those Guys, you know, one of those long-time arty assholes who was a waiter in the popular downscale cool hangout. You know, the guy. I hate the guy. Anyway, he usually ignores me but on Saturday he walked by our booth and said "Nice! I like..." and I almost stopped hating him right that second until he finished up with "...the beans. That's clever." I instantly turned the hate back on and he's dead to me forever.

The weekend before we worked two incredibly ridiculous events, but those are an entry all of their own. I have pictures and everything because how could I not document that squalor? At one of them I got hit on by an old professor of mine and damn, that was just not what I meant when I said I really liked his class. What is it with me? I'm nice to someone and suddenly I'm getting hit on. It happens a lot and makes me wonder if I'm not also flashing my boobs and just not realizing it. I don't want to have to resort to being a cold bitch, but if that's what it takes, I'll do it. I mean, do I want to go hiking with you? Jesus H.

Okay, maybe more tomorrow about our adventures as jewelry whores. We'll see.

4 chatty monkeys