rightupmyalley.

This is what I call commitment to a cause…take that Naked Chef. Kudos to Mrs. Q for living to blog the story—especially since her usual diet is low in dairy and gluten.

(Please enjoy the awkward photo of a random girl angrily touching a burger to her lips, courtesy of The Huffington Post/AP. Interesting photo choice for this story, HP.)

Found a new appreciation for networking and 9th ave tonight. Of course, the second only lasted until a homeless man blocked my path in the middle of the street, shook his plastic bag in my face, and yelled “REALLY??”. I suppose all good things must come to an end, or at least come to a quick turn and fast paced walk to a more central, well-lit avenue.

I went for my first run in Central Park today. Took me long enough, right? Anyways, I was highly amused by the number of characters I got to see on the road. First place has to go to either the girl wearing shorts over what were clearly stockings or the fairly round man with electric blue leggings.

I was at the restaurant with a large group and our waiters were slowly bringing out everyone’s orders from the exposed kitchen, not noticing my frustration growing each time a dish slid on to the table that wasn’t mine (though I made it quite obvious). Two hours later everyone had gotten their food but me. So I yelled at the waiter for the upteenth time, which he finally seemed to respond to…minutes later he brought me a pizza, only he held it laterally (somehow none of the toppings fell off). So, of course, I said something to the effect of, “How could you possibly make me a pizza? Wylie doesn’t make pizza.” and then I chased the waiter around the restaurant (which suddenly looked nothing like WD-50). Around the third lap around the strange L-shaped space, the waiter turned to me and told me that he loved me.

Righhhht.