"Is it live, or is it Memorex (TM)?"

It is the book club meeting:

And we are discussing the old commercial. Lane insists that it was shot in black and white. Thor and I disagree with him. But he insists. And then I remember why I'm better off without him.
The food is, in keeping with the season, turkey, three different varieties of mashed potato and a dressing baked in a pumpkin shell. Salty. Most of it is, except the turkey and potatoes. But out of the mist, a dish arrives that is totally vegan. Beans. Cooked with various veggies and perfectly salted. It is served as a dip with corn chips and is amazingly delicious. The last item of note was the German onion cake a.k.a. white pizza. Brutally yummy. Oh. And there was a whiskey cake. Also fabulous. So moist and sweet, it made me forget I don't eat dessert unless it's chocolate. Over all, it was a feast to be reckoned with.

The next day, I discovered that La Perilla Suiza, a Mexican restaurant on the other side of town, makes the best chunky salsa ever. There were real chunks of veggies: tomatoes, green peppers and onions-and the green salsa was awesome too. The red? Not so much. The Caesar salad? (I have become a real aficionado of the Caesar.) OH MY GOD. Other than the homemade dressing (or perhaps well BOUGHT dressing-who really knows?) it was awful. First of all, the dressing just came on the side. Right. Like I'm such a bitch, they automatically assume I want it on the side. And the croutons? CLEARLY from a cheap supermarket brand, along with the black olives (which really have no place in this kind of salad unless they are YUMMY!) which must have come in an industrial sized drum. Truly the worst. But I guess that's what I get for ordering something non-Mexican. The salsa made me want to marry the chef sight unseen, while that salad make me want to deck him. So it all evens out.
From across the bar, I saw a man who looked almost exactly like Lane, except he was normal sized. He tried to buy me a drink, but I had had enough of his ilk.
I went home and slept soundly in the arms of the Captain.
Now there's a man who TRULY understands.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson