I had Valentines Day dinner with a loved one. California Pizza kitchen near the Fortunoffs and Roosevelt Field. The place was super-packed, for V Day, that when we arrived, we were told it would be a 40 minute wait, so we walked to the Borders nearby.
Upon arriving, I see a ridiculous honey bear. I’ve decided to call super-attractive girls honey bears, because I think the name fits, rather than call them hotties. This honey bear was in her early 20s, blond, grey skirt, leggy, full lips, and with a much older man, who I presume was her father. I remember her somewhat passing by me (I don’t stare, but sometimes look peripherally at things or people who catch my eye), and my body having a mini panic attack like “holy cerebrum, she’s coming this way!!! May day!!!!! Flex those pecs, and stand up straight, and look confident, you singer-songwriter bastard!” Once the tempest subsided, and she and her dad (or sugardaddy?) went upstairs, I saw this other guy about 5 feet away from me, dumbfounded too at the honeyness.
It's weird how honey bears seem to stop time all around you.
Another note: my loved one saw this postcard book called “Bad News Told by Baby Animals”, which turns out to be pretty genius. Basically, it’s postcard pictures of baby animals in really cute situations, yet the caption by the animals says stuff like “ I cheated on you” and “You’re the Father” and other sweet things to have whispered in your ear.
Anyway, we get back to the Kitch. I ordered this chipotle Pizza, which was pretty decent, and she ordered the tandoori chicken pizza, which was really good. The mango in the pizza really added such a sweet flavor to the rest of tandoori chicken, and I was a little jealous that she ordered that one. Ah, whatevs.
C’est la vie. Or as Nick Swardson’s Gay Robot would say, “It ain’t no thing but a chicken wing”.
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