Fast Food Delights.

Well thanks to the diligent eye of one of my Seattle neighbors and their slavish attention to the local evening news the otherwise insightful topic of today's blog has been shelved in favor of something a bit more droll. At the end of the day it seems that I make a bit too much money to benefit from any lame ass tax incentive or incentive package or whatever the hell you want to call it whether I choose to stud some bitch or not. Which just seems crude to me.

Luckily though, Compadre was good enough to take me out for dinner at one of the fine dining establishments we have here in Los Angeles. They're so numerous that just deciding where to eat can become a bit of a past-time. I kid really because 99% of the food that is offered in Los Angeles is really nothing of the kind. It's a lot like raw bits of beef you might throw at some wild dogs to entice them to stop chewing on your otherwise sumptuous ankle. Useful in little respects other than managing the hoards of wild animals that roam these streets in their Infinty G who gives a fucks looking for that next little gem they can impress their betas with. It was something like Michelangelo on Silverlake Boulevard, and it was cramped, and drafty, and they went out of their way to give us the worst table. The Mozzarella di Bufala crostini were fair in their own right, a bit bland, and served with seasonal greens and herbed olive oil. Yes. Herbed. $20 for that appetizer. My Penne Puttanesca was a mistake from the start. Not even a whisper of anchovy, barely a peppering of olive, and I think you know what might happen if you allow capers to carry a meal. Not a good balance. And speaking of balance. Compadre's Eggplant Parmesan had so much balance that it came out tasting like air. I'm joking of course because it would have been quite preferable if it came out tasting like air. Inside the rather impressively toasted dish was a frozen vegetable medley ala Swansons. Lima beans too! And pine nuts, so numerous to even count, added the last touch that made us both want to say good morning forever. Both meals, however, were served with delightful basil leaves as garnish. And you know how fancy your fresh herbs can be. The place is run by two Venezuelans that have perfected an Italian accent which is too silly for me to even to mention.

If any of you are contemplating a trip to Los Angeles and think you might get hungry while you're here then God help you, but you really should heed this advice. Always go where there are the fewest people. If a lot of people are raving about a place then I can guarantee with almost certainty that the place is hideous. And in all likelihood is serving it's salivating patrons Alpo. Fucking wild dogs.