Last week, through a flurry of tweets and emails ('cause we're techno-chic like that), my blogging friends Kristin and Andy and I made plans for lunch. (Yes, it *does* totally rock that I have friends who dwell both in my blogosphere and in my greater metropolitan area.) We decided to dine at a Mexican place that none of us had been to recently, but of which we all held fond memories of delicious meals from some point in the past.
We met at just slightly past the appointed hour (with various texts exchanged en route to decry the state of traffic back-ups at intersections and the like - told ya we're techno-chic!) in the parking lot of the chosen Mexican restaurant, our mouths watering in anticipation of margaritas, chips and cheese-and-sour-cream-laden deliciousness.
Alas, the restaurant was closed. Apparently they don't serve lunch any more, as we deduced from both trying the doorknob (it was locked) and looking at the sign, which had a classy piece of silver duct tape covering the word "LUNCH" on it.
So, on to Plan B. We hopped back in to our respective Mom Mobiles and cruised on up the street to a BBQ joint that was (a) open and (b) not too far away from the Mexican place. Once seated, we had a lunch full of decent enough food, exceedingly enjoyable and hilarious company, and cold beer or water or overly carbonated ginger ale, depending on the glass in front of each of us. And some deep-fried pickles, too (which I personally declined to try, because I don't do pickles unless they're in relish form. Don't ask, it's just another one of my things).
The best part of this lunch, besides the company, was the fact that the walls and ceilings were covered with graffiti left by previous patrons and the fact that the waitress cheerfully provided us with a cup of markers with which we could leave our own mark. That cup was woefully inadequate in terms of decent markers, but fortunately all three of us carry Sharpies in our Mom Mobiles. (Also wet wipes, which come in handy when eating BBQ.) Andy ran out to her car for a Sharpie and once we were done with lunch, we chose a nice, empty spot upon which to leave our words of wisdom for posterity.
That spot happened to be on the ceiling. We rearranged some furniture (by this point we were the only folks in the restaurant except for one other table, so our raucousness and jocularity weren't bothering anyone else. Well, except maybe for that one other table...) Now, none of us are particularly tall (Kristin's the tallest at about 5'8") so we had to employ a chair for our graffitiing. (Yes I just made that word up. Nothing like verbing a noun, baby!) Kristin went first, and complained about the extreme difficulty level in writing on the ceiling. Andy and I poo-pooed her complaints until it was our turn to man the Sharpie. For the record: it is *extremely* hard to write on the ceiling, especially when balanced somewhat precariously upon a chair and with a blazing hot recessed light within centimeters of your face/hand.
Now, finally, the (mostly) wordless portion of this post.....
Kristin beginning our graffitiing:
I went next but haven't gotten those pictures from Andy or Kristin, so we'll skip my turn and move right on to Andy's:
Once we'd finished we did a bit of decorating and this was our final result:
Of course then we needed pictures of ourselves with our work of majestic art:
Maria, our waitress, was acting as photographer for this portion of events. After taking the above picture, she asked us to pose "for a nice shot" now. And I wasn't even looking like I was going to pick Kristin's nose in the one above, either!
Here's the "nice" one:
So there you have it. Who needs BlogHer? (Though we decided we will road trip together to NYC for BlogHer '10 next summer!) Ladies, I'm ready for lunch again whenever you are - and next time, I promise we'll make sure the restaurant is open before we go!