I’m not sure if the Polar Vortex and the resulting cold weather can be blamed for some unusual behaviour in this household, or if it’s just been business as usual.
The other day I got home from work and headed straight to the kitchen. That’s when I heard the Beast making his way down from upstairs. Usually it’s a soft step, as though he’s wearing slippers. This time, however, it sounded like he was wearing high heels.
Foodie: Wow! Look at those boots!
Beast: Don’t you love them?
Foodie: [Pause] They’re beautiful?
Beast: They retail for over $400 but I found them at Good Will for $12.50. They’re in perfect condition.
Foodie: Yes, they are. [Pause] How will you wear them, though?
Beast: Uh, on my feet?
After the Beast tried on a few outfits to show me how he could integrate the Frye boots into his wardrobe, he invited me over to his computer to show me his Internet history, which is a highly personal and potentially embarrassing record for most of us, I think.
Foodie: Why are you showing me this? I would never show you my Internet search history.
Beast: Well, look here!
Right below a list of searches that included, “The Jess Files,” “The Social,” “Chinese peasants,” “American miners,” “Teddy Roosevelt boots,” and “How to become the smartest person in the world,” was “work boots”.
Foodie: I don’t get it.
Beast: It’s just like in that book, The Secret! I searched for “work boots” this morning and after work I found a pair! See? I willed it to happen.
I’ve also recently made some poor text-messaging decisions that may cause the Beast to have future intimacy issues. On a recent evening when I was home alone, I rented the Tina Fey and Paul Rudd movie, Admission and drank 3/4 of a bottle of a fantastic French zinfandel. My butt has been acting a little weird lately and in the middle of the movie I texted the Beast:
Not to be an alarmest but my butt is bleeding. Can hemroids [sic] do that? Also I’m bawling watching this movie. When in hell are you coming home? Lol!
Wow! We are definitely never getting married. Of course hemorrhoids can make your bum bleed. That’s what they do! Are you drinking alone?
When u coming home? My butt is still bleeding! lol!!!!!!!!!!
Did you stick a foreign object in it? Is it bleeding internally or have you been scratching it? You have to stop scratching your butt. You do it in your sleep you know.
I swear I haven’t touched it! But it is so itchy and it stings and I want to just take a toothbrush and scratch the shit out of it! 😉 ;0
I didn’t hear back after that.
I also let my vanity get the better of me recently at a restaurant. After we saw Inside Llewyn Davis–OMG, OSCAR ISAAC–we went for dinner at Patria, a Spanish restaurant on King St. that I’ve been to only once before, probably a year ago, and have thought about the paella ever since. Without a reservation, we secured two seats at the busy bar. After ordering a couple of cocktails from the delightful bartender, we proceeded to take in our surroundings.
We were both wearing Nordic-looking ski sweaters. Everyone else was not. No matter, though. The food–and the service–was just as good as I remembered.
After our cocktails and half-way through a bottle of white Rioja, I joked to the Beast about hoping to not get ‘nized–that’s Erinn’s delightful abbreviation for “recognized”. And then, just like The Secret promises about willing things to happen, I did get ‘nized. A server was dropping off an order of patatas bravas and in the middle of describing the dish she stopped and said, “Oh my god you’re Jess Allen from The Social!” I said, “Oh my god, yes, yes I am!” She said, “I heard your laugh from the across the room and I knew it was you!” I said, “I’m so sorry!”
Foodie: Do you think everybody is watching me now? This is so embarrassing!
Foodie: I think that older woman at the table behind us is watching me. Should I offer to take a photo with her?
After our meal, we sat outside in a little alcove and the Beast had a cigarette. We admired a table inside surrounded by two very good-looking couples who appeared to be on a double date.
Beast: Next time we come back here I want to sit at a table and not the bar.
Foodie: So that I don’t get ‘nized again?
Beast: No, because it’s more comfortable. [Pause] Look at those bankers out with their 12-year-old cousins.
Foodie: Oh, come on! I bet those two guys are younger than you are.
Beast: Did I tell you how the window dresser at Holt’s has come into the store a few times and commented on my outfits?
Foodie: No, you didn’t! What did he say?
Beast: The first time he said that he wished his stylists would dress the mannequins the way I was dressed.
Foodie: What were you wearing?
Beast: Probably two sweaters and a button-up shirt and high-waisted wool pleated pants. And the second time he just said I nailed it again.
Foodie: Oh sweetie, I am so proud of you!
Beast: Stop making fun of me, please. [Pause] Do you think those guys in there have black Amex cards?
Foodie: I couldn’t say.
Beast: Fuck, that shit is cool.
And finally, just moments ago, we both realized what today is. Today is our tenth anniversary. Both of us forgot (even though last night I remembered momentarily and then forgot all about remembering it this morning.) Luckily we already had a special night planned: we are going to order a party-size Vulcano pizza from Vesuvio (green olives on half) and drink this Chianti Classico I picked up the other night.
I just did an Internet search and discovered that tin/aluminum is the traditional 10-year anniversary gift. If there is any pizza left over, I will wrap it in aluminum foil.