Pressing spinster auntly business (I have to lounge by a pool again, dammit) will keep me away from my desk today, but I can’t see leaving yall without a photograph of some quiche. From the Blue Star Cafeteria. Which is a dumb name for a restaurant that isn’t a cafeteria.
Possibly related posts:
- Public Cans of Austin: Blue Star Cafeteria It is a comfort to know that, in the event of a sudden torrent,...
- If Las Manitas Goes, I Go The author stuffs face at Las Manitas in 2004. Little did I know that...
- More Yang For Your Buck Blamer Zugenia sends along this link to canvass my views on “this particular intersection...
- Babe, I Gotta Ramble Stingray and visiting rock star Anne T prepare to Lick We spinster aunts, we’re...
- Fruit report Stately, plump Twisty Faster came from the refrigerator, bearing a bowl of grapefruit upon...
Ah, lounging by a pool! One of my favorite activities.
I note with some dismay that I am not currently eating delicious quiche.
I totally support the concept that real men don’t eat quiche, on account of it means MORE QUICHE FOR ME. (But norbidness and Doghouse: I will always share. I know who my fiends are.)
I kid you: here is the missing “r”.
I will not be forced to lounge by the pool today, but I am off to meet a Bernese Mountain dog who, if he likes me and I interview well, may just retain me as a walking companion and possible surrogate humanoid when his real humans go away on vacation.
I think that putting crumbled bits of Beggin Strips in my sports bra might make me seem pathetically over-eager. I will forbear. Plus it’s a new sports bra. Plus that quiche is making me really hungry, and I don’t want to show up with Beggin Strip Breath.
Beggin Strips in your bra may not be advisable, but a Marro-Bone or two secreted in your pocket would probably be a good idea. This was my tactic when “interviewed” by my current canine house-mate, Abigail. We’ve been inseparable ever since.
Great, now I have “Twistin’ by the Pool” stuck in my head.
Real feminists eat THE HEARTS OF MEN!
But I think quiche is okay every once in a while.
quiche. yum.
Real feminists eat CHEESECAKE! Or at least I do :P
Real feminists eat quiche without worrying whether it’s going straight to their hips. Je suis une feministe vraie.
Side note to larkspur: I wrote a book and in the acknowledgments page, I mentioned my blog, Diary of a Crossword Fiend. (No “r.” It would make no sense with an “r.”) Would you believe the copy editor inserted an “r”? Yeah. Way to take out the bite. And in the land of crosswords, one must cling to the merest bit of hardassedness one can.
A real feminist eats any comestible she wants, even if she’s on a date with a man who will have certain opinions based on whether she orders a salad, a steak, or anything else.
[channels dude nation] I’d hit that.
Real feminists eat anything delicious. We’re not fools.
I was also thrown by the title of their other restaurant, Eastside Cafe, as it simply does not sound likethe upscale garden fresh eatery it is.