You never get a second chance to make a first impression. So, to a group of people I met last night I may forever be known as that woman who kept spilling her drink. I went to an event to raise money for a children’s charity called Spirit Fund. It was held at the restaurant Pier 45. There was a wine sampler, but I ordered a frozen margarita. Look, it’s my favorite drink and I rarely get to enjoy one. I swear the waitress gave me a trick glass. Every time I tried to take a sip my slushy beverage dribbled down the stem. Twice it poured out of the glass, down my chin and not only on my dress, but my friend’s dress as well. Yes, I was wearing something other than Mom jeans. It was a floor length sun dress. These cankles weren’t ready to make a public appearance. I was not drunk and even felt the need to say it out loud. You can take the girl out of the trailer, but can’t take the trailer out of the girl. Then, I had my friend pick up my drink, “Tell me there isn’t something wrong with this glass.” She took a sip with ease. Where the hell is Bill Nye the Science Guy when you need him? Screw it. I was sitting on a roof top deck overlooking Lake Ontario. The party must go on.
Reason #987 why I love my friend, Nikki, is she isn’t afraid to eat.
Here we are after gorging ourselves on hors d’oeuvres. I think we made four or five trips to load our plates. Auto correct gave me some bizarre options when attempting to spell hors d’oeuvres in this blog post. Here were its suggestions before I finally googled it:
1.) horde urea
2.) hotspur bed
3.) horde urges
The only appetizer served at the restaurants I frequent are mozzarella sticks and nachos. The wait staff begrudgingly sings Happy Birthday to several customers per shift. Pier 45 is much fancier and served more elegant grub. It was delicious. Here were my favorites:
filled with goat cheese and chorizo (I have no idea what the hell that is, but it was yummy!) served with gazpacho dipping sauce
Olive oil and garlic base, sopresatta,(again, No clue. I don’t think it’s on the menu at Applebee’s) Parmesan and asiago cheeses
Spinach & Artichoke Dip
Baked golden with smoked Gouda and served with homemade focaccia for dipping (no tortilla chips here)
Is it wrong that I wanted a to-go container? I even contemplated shoving bread in my purse. (These are the things that go through my mind) Unfortunately, I was being watched like a hawk after dumping my drink.