Let me do you a favor: you don’t want us to sit at the communal table.
Three of my lovely girlfriends (Liscious, Slow Motion, and let’s welcome Booty to the blog) and I brunched Saturday morning at Commissary. Only a hop, skip, and a jump from where Slow Motion and I reside, its a great neighborhood place with reasonable prices and friendly faces.
AND “Make your own bottle of Champagne” on the weekends. Reason Numero Uno why we politely declined to disrupt–er, be seated with–other patrons.
We were (smartly) seated at a booth in the back. The champagne arrived, with our choices of juice: orange and cranberry. Liscious eagerly stepped up to provide the step-by-step photos.
Then, while attempting to hit her signature pout, poured orange juice all over the table.
Slow Motion stepped in. That’s what friends are for. In honor of her fondness for abbreviations, I give you the following sequence.
Cran + Champ=
And just enough orange.
Then we remembered we were also there to eat. I enjoyed the Huevos Rancheros, as did Liscious. A few too many black beans for my taste, but that never hurt anyone.
Slow Motion and Booty both got egg sandwiches with bacon. “Bacon on the side or in the sandwich?” asked our fine waitstaff.
“Well how long is the bacon?” asked Booty
“If it’s too long it will hang over the sides of the sandwich and be hard to eat.”
“You do run that risk.”
Brilliant dude, brilliant. This group has eaten more than their fair share of egg sandwiches and sir it appears you have too. Construction is crucial. Nicely done.
Next on the agenda was the Mid City Artists Tour which advertised you being able to “see artists in their studios” and turned out to be “go visit mildly legitimate apartment buildings.” Since I’d already tempted my creeper fate that morning by selling a table on Craig’s List, and Liscous’ sense of direction rivals, well, nothing, we gave up in favor of costume shopping and more beverages that warm the heart and mind at Busboys and Poets.
And I, therefore, declare the outing a rousing success.