I'm going to office space the ice cream truck

As we speak, i.e., as I write, there is an ice cream truck playing some really f*ing annoying "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." I'd like to file a complaint. It's certainly been going on longer than whatever the ordinance allows.

I survived restaurant week. Woohoooooo!!!

I've come to hate restaurant week. The dinner is not a good deal, and I never want to eat that much food anyway. Lunch at Ceiba was nice--I do love that place--and dinner at La Bastille was pretty good--but the best meals I had were at non-restaurant week places. Just Alexandria holes in the wall with really good food and low-key vibes.

I do have to tell you, though, that it broke my heart last night, when it was all quiet in the restaurant--it was just us and the waitstaff, and they were sitting around a table, chatting, and I couldn't understand them. I could understand them enough to think that I should have been able to understand them, but I couldn't make out a single word. Ironically, the first time I ever went to that restaurant was when Heather, Lisa and I decided to go after class and see if we had sufficient linguistic ability to order in complete sentences. I think we chickened out. But it was fun, and I kept going back. And now I can't understand a word.

In any case, it was good to catch up with my friends. We got to reminisce about the good old days. Beth reminded me of how we shared a gym locker in grad school. That seems like ages ago, and it was. We talked about dating debacles past--I didn't even have to bring up any of my own, it was just good to hear other people's. Not that I wish them on my friends, but it's heartening to know that they happen to everyone.

The ice cream truck is still going, but it's muted since I've closed the window. I really should call the police on that thing one of these days.

We also talked about how we can't deal with the Post. It was really good to discuss this with someone who felt exactly the same way: it's great to get the local paper, especially when it's more than the local paper, but that feeling of having to read it just weighs on you. I'm trying to look at it as a charitable contribution: just like I don't feel compelled to read Amnesty International's entire newsletter, I shouldn't feel like I have to read all of the Post.