Friday night we ventured down to a new Jamaican restaurant called Da Blue Lagoon. When we were on our cruise last year, the stop in Jamaica was a highlight for a couple of reasons. First off, when we got off the boat, my mom asked a cabbie to take us to "someplace we can do some shopping." In my mom's mind, I'm sure this meant "someplace with an indoor food court and a Christopher and Banks." (Christopher and Banks looks and even SMELLS like my mom inside. I told Erin that going to Aeropostale makes me feel like an old man, but Christopher and Banks has the opposite effect.) In any case, we ended up in a sea of huts selling mostly junk, and I'm relatively sure I saw at least one hut that didn't have rodents. Mom was a little mortified by the whole experience. The other highlight was eating piles of jerk chicken at a resort down there. Anxious to eat piles of anything Friday night, Da Blue Lagoon didn't disappoint. We got a variety of jerked meats (these seem to be a theme in my life right now) and appetizers, all at reasonable prices. My favorite items were the fried plaintains and jerk chicken, but everything was great. Definitely makes the list of places to which we'll return...
Saturday morning, Erin and I ventured out to the mall to do a little Christmas shopping. As we hiked between the cell phone dealers (apparently this is all that sells in malls these days) we passed what appeared to be a den of 8-12 year old hookers. Erin informed me that this was merely Club Libby Lu. Apparently little girls like to have birthday parties at this place and get made over for duty on the Sunset Strip. It was mortifying. Their website offers makeovers which include "Rock Star," "Tween Idol," "Priceless Princess," and "Pop Star." The "Rock Star" makeover even includes one of those goofy little headsets that Britney has made famous. As Erin and I were discussing how this place promotes, in our opinion, all the wrong values, Erin commented that "boy, isn't it going to stink for her when we won't let poor Grace set foot in that place." I couldn't agree more. The last thing I need is a "Tween Idol" parading around the house. Later in the day while still shopping, we were nearly run over by a pack of "Rock Stars" from Club Libby Lu, and one of them had on that stupid headset. I realize it's not her fault, and I realize that people have differing opinions on the validity of Club Libby Lu, but every part of me wanted to punch the poor thing. Right in the mouth. Not give her a talking to or try to explain that there's nothing noble in looking like a prostitute. Punch her. And then break her little headset microphone. I refrained, instead choosing to channel my energy into dreaming about what I would eat next.
On that front, Erin had a work party at a co-worker's house which acted as a "pre-Greek Fest" event. Greek Fest is held each year at the Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church, and unlike the Germans from a week ago, the Greeks know how to feed you for your dollar. Or fifty. I still managed to spend a fortune on food, but at least I came away absolutely full AND with leftover baklava. At one point I had powdered sugar on the front of my shirt from some nameless, faceless cookie I ate, and the hair on my left arm was matted down with honey from an unfortunate incident with a honey puff. I looked homeless. In addition to eating everything in sight, we took in a brief cooking demonstration and an interesting discussion with the priest, primarily on the differences between Catholicism and the Greek Orthodox church. I'm highly uneducated in this regard. When asked if anyone knew what the differences were, I replied "different pointy hats" which apparently is not the correct answer. So in addition to being well fed, I was educated by the Greeks. And escorted out of their church.
Since I'm returning to my fat man status that I worked so hard to lose last year, this will need to be our last festival for a while. Unfortunately (not really) my birthday and the Middle Eastern Festival are right around the corner. I'm going to have to run on the treadmill until I'm bleeding from the eyes to keep up with this. Now where did I put that baklava??
Saturday morning, Erin and I ventured out to the mall to do a little Christmas shopping. As we hiked between the cell phone dealers (apparently this is all that sells in malls these days) we passed what appeared to be a den of 8-12 year old hookers. Erin informed me that this was merely Club Libby Lu. Apparently little girls like to have birthday parties at this place and get made over for duty on the Sunset Strip. It was mortifying. Their website offers makeovers which include "Rock Star," "Tween Idol," "Priceless Princess," and "Pop Star." The "Rock Star" makeover even includes one of those goofy little headsets that Britney has made famous. As Erin and I were discussing how this place promotes, in our opinion, all the wrong values, Erin commented that "boy, isn't it going to stink for her when we won't let poor Grace set foot in that place." I couldn't agree more. The last thing I need is a "Tween Idol" parading around the house. Later in the day while still shopping, we were nearly run over by a pack of "Rock Stars" from Club Libby Lu, and one of them had on that stupid headset. I realize it's not her fault, and I realize that people have differing opinions on the validity of Club Libby Lu, but every part of me wanted to punch the poor thing. Right in the mouth. Not give her a talking to or try to explain that there's nothing noble in looking like a prostitute. Punch her. And then break her little headset microphone. I refrained, instead choosing to channel my energy into dreaming about what I would eat next.
On that front, Erin had a work party at a co-worker's house which acted as a "pre-Greek Fest" event. Greek Fest is held each year at the Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church, and unlike the Germans from a week ago, the Greeks know how to feed you for your dollar. Or fifty. I still managed to spend a fortune on food, but at least I came away absolutely full AND with leftover baklava. At one point I had powdered sugar on the front of my shirt from some nameless, faceless cookie I ate, and the hair on my left arm was matted down with honey from an unfortunate incident with a honey puff. I looked homeless. In addition to eating everything in sight, we took in a brief cooking demonstration and an interesting discussion with the priest, primarily on the differences between Catholicism and the Greek Orthodox church. I'm highly uneducated in this regard. When asked if anyone knew what the differences were, I replied "different pointy hats" which apparently is not the correct answer. So in addition to being well fed, I was educated by the Greeks. And escorted out of their church.
Since I'm returning to my fat man status that I worked so hard to lose last year, this will need to be our last festival for a while. Unfortunately (not really) my birthday and the Middle Eastern Festival are right around the corner. I'm going to have to run on the treadmill until I'm bleeding from the eyes to keep up with this. Now where did I put that baklava??
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