Garlic Bread & The Bread Line
Here's to getting back on the horse.
In February 2006 things weren't going too well financially. More recently I shared my hope that my impeccable work ethic would result in something other than gas, (see "The Sweet Stench of Success"), namely monetary compensation. Well, my day of reckoning finally arrived February 6, 2007. My boss was back in town, and he was making good on his offer to reward me with lunch at The Palm for my 1 year review. For those unawares, the Palm is a really nice, really expensive, really well known steak house in L.A. It's where the industry types go for their power lunches.
My boss asked me if I'd ever been: of course I hadn't, and I was excited to have the opportunity. My boss is an epicurean at heart, and god knows I love myself a good meal. Needless to say there was an absurd amount of food on the table at our lunch. His "spare no expense" attitude didn't help, and remembering my long gassy nights at the office, I pulled the ballsy move of ordering a 4 oz. lobster for lunch! The table was covered in food. I received a raise, and a title: Senior Licensing Representative. Really, I could have been called the Tzar of Cheese. The titles doesn't mean much considering there are only two licensing representatives. However, I'll take what I can get. It felt good to be appreciated.
The weekend after my raise Susan came into town and I joined her and some friends for lunch in Koreatown. Susan loves this place that has great Chinese/Korean food. I had some tasty Kung Pao Squid, and after lunch we went to a Mexican restaurant near USC for afternoon Margaritas. I was also able to procure some affordable Hypnotq for my trip to Germany. Bubby and Daddies were itching to taste some, and I found a nice little gift set with matching glasses.
Later that night Susan, Andrew, Robert, and I went with Claudia and A.J. to a party in Santa Monica. It was a nice little apartment party with a dress-up theme that was lost on me. One of the attendees was dressed as a Democrat, or a "crying vagina" literally. We hung out on the balcony and sucked helium from balloons. There were good snacks, but other than the man-gina it was a somewhat lame shin-dig. The copys kept coming by because of the noise, and I felt like I was in college again. I fell asleep on the way home and awoke to Morgan bitching Robert out over parking in his garage space. Parking sucks in our neighborhood and I let Susan park in Robert's space. Robert then parked in Morgan's space, which Morgan okay'd since he was supposed to be out late. The night ended with me running after Robert's car in the rain. We found him a parking spot. Susan passed out on our couch.
Sunday February 11 Claudia and I went down to the fashion district for a little shopping. I was casually looking for little "America" gifts I could take to Germany with me. Instead of patriotic bric-a-brac Claudia and I found matching purple jumpers that were quite ridiculous. Think Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum. I swear I saw them at Paris Fashion Week though. These were circa 1990 and only $2. We each bought a pair. In retrospect, what a fabulous waste of money.
In February 2006 things weren't going too well financially. More recently I shared my hope that my impeccable work ethic would result in something other than gas, (see "The Sweet Stench of Success"), namely monetary compensation. Well, my day of reckoning finally arrived February 6, 2007. My boss was back in town, and he was making good on his offer to reward me with lunch at The Palm for my 1 year review. For those unawares, the Palm is a really nice, really expensive, really well known steak house in L.A. It's where the industry types go for their power lunches.
My boss asked me if I'd ever been: of course I hadn't, and I was excited to have the opportunity. My boss is an epicurean at heart, and god knows I love myself a good meal. Needless to say there was an absurd amount of food on the table at our lunch. His "spare no expense" attitude didn't help, and remembering my long gassy nights at the office, I pulled the ballsy move of ordering a 4 oz. lobster for lunch! The table was covered in food. I received a raise, and a title: Senior Licensing Representative. Really, I could have been called the Tzar of Cheese. The titles doesn't mean much considering there are only two licensing representatives. However, I'll take what I can get. It felt good to be appreciated.The weekend after my raise Susan came into town and I joined her and some friends for lunch in Koreatown. Susan loves this place that has great Chinese/Korean food. I had some tasty Kung Pao Squid, and after lunch we went to a Mexican restaurant near USC for afternoon Margaritas. I was also able to procure some affordable Hypnotq for my trip to Germany. Bubby and Daddies were itching to taste some, and I found a nice little gift set with matching glasses.
Later that night Susan, Andrew, Robert, and I went with Claudia and A.J. to a party in Santa Monica. It was a nice little apartment party with a dress-up theme that was lost on me. One of the attendees was dressed as a Democrat, or a "crying vagina" literally. We hung out on the balcony and sucked helium from balloons. There were good snacks, but other than the man-gina it was a somewhat lame shin-dig. The copys kept coming by because of the noise, and I felt like I was in college again. I fell asleep on the way home and awoke to Morgan bitching Robert out over parking in his garage space. Parking sucks in our neighborhood and I let Susan park in Robert's space. Robert then parked in Morgan's space, which Morgan okay'd since he was supposed to be out late. The night ended with me running after Robert's car in the rain. We found him a parking spot. Susan passed out on our couch.
Sunday February 11 Claudia and I went down to the fashion district for a little shopping. I was casually looking for little "America" gifts I could take to Germany with me. Instead of patriotic bric-a-brac Claudia and I found matching purple jumpers that were quite ridiculous. Think Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum. I swear I saw them at Paris Fashion Week though. These were circa 1990 and only $2. We each bought a pair. In retrospect, what a fabulous waste of money.
posted by Eileen at 5:13 PM
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