Steakhouse Discrimination, Sad for Shula, and NYC in DC

What a fun weekend! Friday night, the Master and I went to Bobby Van's for steak dinner. Our waiter looked less than thrilled when two slender women in designer scarves and handbags took one of his prime booths. Little did he know that we were the eatin' type.

5 glasses of wine, 2 side dishes, one game of Soul mates, a MASH sort-of game from my teen years where we discovered that we could see one of our friends with a particular gentleman, and two massive fillets, we were stuffed and ready for sleep. My only irritation was that I ordered my $40 fillet cooked medium. When the waiter brought it over cooked medium well, I called him over. "Well, does it make a difference?" he asked me. "Yes, it does. I like it more tender!" They brought me over another cooked medium... but I decided I won't go there again. Perhaps at TGIFridays I'll put up with patronizing comments like that... but, I expect more from a steakhouse.

Saturday morning, LR and Jenny met at my apartment to walk over to McFadden's for the Bama vs. Auburn game. McFadden's was out of bloody marys which sucked. It was entirely too early for bourbon. I was wearing an Auburn shirt but secretly routing for Bama. Poor Shula... Alabama's not exactly where you want to be known as "the first Crimson Tide coach to lose four consecutive games to their cross-state rival."

LW, Jenny, Vive and I went to the Producer's swanky two-floor, exposed brick, leather couched NYC-style townhouse for a "stock the bar" party later in the evening. The majority of the people there worked in media, so the crowd was way more fashionable than the usual DC scene. Many of the people worked for the new Al Jazeera English channel. I asked one girl where she worked, and she prefaced the description with "I'm not a terrorist, but I work for..." Apparently, the station is meant to give an objective perspective on what's going on throughout the world. The only problem is that in the US, you can only view it on the Internet.

Jenny picked up a Brit resembling Prince William. His very drunk good friend drove a Maserati. At what price point does a car get to be called by it's brand alone? At what point does the driver, even, become non-existent in descriptions? We were headed to find another party after the Producer's and the Brit kept announcing that the Maserati would be along to pick us up at any second.

I spent the night chatting with a handsome Southern beau who I'd hung out with several times at the beginning of the summer via the Producer. I was in a relationship the two times I'd met him. On the last meeting, APK was introduced as my boyfriend. So, I hadn't seen handsome since June. My Bama contingency dissected his dress and mannerisms, as good friends must, and came to the conclusion that they weren't crazy about his pants, but his sport coat, hair, and smile made him 100% Southern. They thought he'd fit in nicely with any of our friends from home. Oh, and he seemed to like conversation with me according to the ladies... that's why I keep them around, tehe. I did give him my number, though I'm not sure he's the right one for me. That's a very long story that I don't have the patience to explore today.

We never made it to the other party, which was fine. 'twas a good night without needing anything else.