Notice: This entry was published 6 years ago and may no longer reflect my views today.
I spent the last night at a quaint Indian bistro with some friends. It looked so unassuming from outside, located between a Quiznos and a Jack in the Box, but as soon as you stepped in the atmosphere completely changes. Warm, a faint spicy smell in the air, and Bhangra music to make you feel welcome. I was excited to finally have Indian food after so long. It’s one of my favorite cuisines next to Japanese food. There were only so many tables, and we didn’t have a reservation, so we were lucky to be seated.
I had butter chicken Tikka Masala and naan with onions and cilantros, plus some mango lassi to wash it down. So. Freaking. Good. My friends and I shared dishes, although we couldn’t keep up with each other’s food’s names. My dish was dubbed “Butter.” There was also “Lamb” and “Other Lamb.” Well, I did remember one other dish. The Mango Masala, but only because it was the best one.
And then there was what we called the “Fuck You” bowl. One of our friends ordered curry with maximum spiciness. Everyone else cried over it. When I tried it, I told them it wasn’t that bad. And it wasn’t. I liked it. I felt so proud of myself for being able to tolerate really hot food, but then as soon as I went to bed last night, my stomach started hurting really bad. I ended up staying awake most of the night. Fuck you, indeed.
Here’s my outfit from last night!
Wearing all black while I still can! It’s getting pretty warm here in Vegas, but it did rain this weekend so the temperature dropped a bit. I’ve had the jeans for years, and it’s starting to fade. I treat my clothes carefully and try to care for them properly as much as I can, but sometimes you just can’t avoid wear and tear. I’ll have to get myself a new pair of black jeans soon.
I wish these pictures could show the details on the cardigan. It’s very drapey and flappy. Here‘s what it looks like closed. Pretty soon I won’t be able to wear cardigans at all!