I Got Extras!

Vent Post #3
The following is a vent post, where for the purposes of venting some frustrations I will roll over a point in my mind that strikes me as silly and rant over it for a few lines. Breathe it. And for the sake of argument and in the interest of full disclosure, they'll usually be directed at one of the great mysteries of my life: women. If I happen to step on a metaphorical toe, it might means your mental feet aren't where you thought they were.

So Slim, who I hadn't spoken to in a minute calls with what else - man problems. All my women friends appear to have these issues with the men they choose, but Slim's seem to currently be more pronounced than the rest. Though Spanky is giving her a good run for her money.

So in the course of the chat Slim tells me that one point when the guy was supposed to call and didn't or sent a text for like the 100th time that day (damn an unlimited plan!) that she had left the country. Curious I asked and she told me she'd gone to Cozumel, Mexico for the New Year. Wowzers. She's going at it Big time. Then she hits me with that statement I hate:

"I had an extra ticket. I should have called you."

How do you have an extra ticket to Cozumel? You have an extra ticket to the movies. You occasionally have and extra ticket to a concert. You got extra coupons all the time. But an extra ticket to Mexico? Okay once in college someone had an extra ticket to Paris that could have been mine if they had known I was in town, but ...oh, never mind, but anyway, I told her I was going to pretend that she didn't just say that.

How do you have an extra ticket to a resort? That bugged me so much. I didn't bring it up again in the phone call, but that really really bugged me. Really.

I mean it bugged the shit out me.

A free ticket to Cozumel? I mean I know me and Slim ain't like that, but we're both grown. We could have shared a room for a week and nothing would have happened. Or I could have scooped a room when I was down there. I'm broke but ain't nobody that broke. I mean damn. Okay if she cooks - oddly for vegetarian she cooks meat all the time - if she cooks she will call for me to get a plate, so I shouldn't be complaining.

I shouldn't but I am. Cozu-freaking-mel? As much as need a vacation too? I only had how much time off?

I wish I was drinking.

Bartender, how about a big vanilla shake. Extra whipped creme.

A Quick Restaurant Review - The Busy Bee Cafe

Sunday was supposed to be a busy day. Up at eight and at the gym, some grocery shopping then home. Breakfast, start some laundry and clean up, then finish putting the primer on the final wall in the kitchen. After that I was going to buckle down and get together the notes of the book I've been working on...forever...in addition to the film...and the other book(s)...and the short stories...and around dinner time go to the movies with Sporty.

I woke up at 10:30. It didn't pick up from there.

As it was around 11:30 Slim called and invited me to supper (not brunch) at this little soul food spot called the Busy Bee Cafe down on MLK. A quick shower and I was out the door, further throwing my schedule into further disarray. But then it was one of those Sundays.

The Bee is in a closet across from Publix. I'm exaggerating a bit, but it is a spot that some reviewers would call cozy. Small is the proper term. Four more feet on one side and it would be a wholly different place. Decorated in early "Spot" it's small tables and ample booths are overlooked by photos of black celebrity who've stopped in for a bite. I saw Don King, Danny Glover and most of the cast of Good Times from my vantage. If they let me know when Thelma's coming back, her meal is on me.

Looking at the porkchops that were placed down on the table next me, I got the impression this might be good. And when Slim, who is a vegetarian, added the fried fish to her order, I was sure. Mulling it over, I ordered the smothered fried chicken with a side of rice, and green beans with yams on the side. And Slim I settled in for what was a suprisingly short wait.

The crowd there is a mix of the just out of church crowd and the I ain't even thinkin' 'bout church crowd, packed into a space the size of my mother's living room and dining room. It's a close grouping of booths on one wall, tables in the middle and a lunch counter, with well dressed grandmothers getting plates to go, ballers waiting for tables, and a deacon enjoying okra and pulled pork. As I watched the food whipped out of the kitchen so quickly, and the servers snatched it up so swiftly, it was wonder no one was sloshed with gravy. I hoped whoever's grandma they had in the kitchen got a smoke break every now then, because they were seriously cranking it out.

And on a side note...the sweet tea was the bomb.

Our food arrived, in Atlanta restaurant time, so fast I barely had to time for light and witty conversation. I tasted the rice, which honestly they could have let cook just a bit longer, but the gravy tasted like gravy should. They'd served up a whole breast and wing, the yams weren't too sweet and along with my other sides and the warm soft roll, my only wish is that the meal lasted longer & that my plate was a little bigger. The smiling portrait of Whitman Mayo (Sanford and Son's Grady) smiled down looking like he wanted a bite or two. He's a great and all, but bruh, order your own!

In friend news, Slim has now got her house on the market after a ridiculous number of break-ins. There are times I marvel at her tenacity. She got a veggie plate and although she said she only wanted a little piece of fish, she scarfed down the tilapia doused in some hot sauce with a quickness. I had wanted a taste, but I feared to ask.

The Busy Bee is a very homey spot, taking me back to old church dinners in the country and lunches at the spot in college where you had enough left over for seconds. When my waiter asked about dessert, I told him only if they had a cot in the back to go with it. I tipped almost 25%.

If you really want some good soul food, head on down to the Busy Bee. I know I will.

Barkeep...more tea. And see if they still got some pie in the back.

A Quick Restaurant Review - West Egg Cafe

As Sporty was with her new man, I slipped out on Sunday with another friend who I'll call Slim to the West Egg Cafe on Howell Mill. We were going to try Slice for brunch, but Slim is a strict veggie and didn't feel the almost $15 for the all you could eat buffet was worth it, as she couldn't figure out what was pure veggie.

West Egg it was then.

It's a converted garage that is akin to an upscale super hipster cool Waffle House. And considering the aggressiveness of the crowd, I prefer Waffle House because I'd expect WF folks to act like that. There was the usual twenty minute wait from what looked like a frat boy fresh off a hangover host, and into the garage like waiting room with few chairs. They have a "lounge" in the back but it was clearly over full.

After ten or so minutes the jaded waitstaff (all in various West Egg gear - tees, hoodies, jackets - I looked for a gift shop) offered us a seat at the bar and we could eat "right now." How homey. We took the bait and grabbed a couple of chairs next to the coffee station and between the door. I really wanted to yell out "steak and eggs, well scrambled, scattered smothered" because if it hadn't been daylight I could have sworn this was the Waffle House.

I can say this, table service was quick. Of course sitting by the coffee bar the waiter was essentially standing right there making espressos and lattes whenever we needed anything, but it was a nice touch. The food arrived briskly. Maybe too briskly because the breeze between the seven feet the food had to move between the ready bar and in front of me chilled the grits to a cold soup. Slim complained of course (ah, the black woman) and we got free potatoes, which were pretty good. And the reheated half my grits. I don't even want to know what happened to the other half.

Slim, my dining partner, is diametrically the opposite of Sporty. Whereas Sporty and I's conversations wandered all over the map, our conversation seemed focused on property values and trends, home security, her new recent ex and skiing. Okay it sounds all over the map but one thing lead to another. Sporty and I would talk movies, then furniture, then go over old times and somehow end up on painting and cheese. There was a certain something about us.

Anyway....

Now perhaps our taking the bar seats was our own fault. Before the food arrived several people leaned over me to get coffee or sugar or tea without thinking. After we finished eating a mother daughter team fresh from Romania literally stood behind us waiting for our dismount to take our places.

All in all the spot maybe okay if they're not as rushed. I've eaten brunch a number of places (I love brunch) and they know they can do better. I'm not in a rush to do their brunch again, but I'd try them if I could get a table maybe. And hot food the first time. But then I'm a forgiving soul.

Barkeep. Mimosa. I love brunch.