1228am. Such a day!
Breakfast with my dad, watched him work his magic on every waitress in the place, tried to convince them to make eggs benedict (it’s only served on weekends at the 101 cafe) by way of pretending he was visiting from Amsterdam!?!?!?
In another life, my father may very well have been America’s Greatest Fictionalist.
That is a word, now.
Then lunch with Jon and Valerie, where we talked about burgers, ruining a date by telling the people involved it’s a date.
Also, Jon and I talked BUSINESS. Because we are adults.
Wrapped up the day by working the Bon Jovi concert.
Oy gevalt. Such a hot mess, that show. So many cougars I thought I was where ever cougars are normally found in PACKS OF THOUSANDS.
The period on the sentence that was the day? Bought myself a dirty dog from three surly youths as I walked from the concert to my car. I think they gave me both a discount and salmonella.
But the dog (dirty dog = hot dog, wrapped in bacon, slathered with freshly grilled onions and whatever condiments you please) was transcendently delicious, so if I wake up dead, tomorrow, it was well worth it.
AND SO, if you know the value of a good dirty dog, and are able to find joy in little things like bacon-wrapped hot dogs and 45 year-old women weaving drunkenly to their cars while belting out off-key renditions of Livin’ on a Prayer, then this shot of Amanda is for you.
