We had a total day of slack yesterday for the anniversary; Sonya gave me the Coop book I've been wanting and I made a run to Burger King for breakfast. Other than that, we sat quietly at home.
Then we went out for the big swank anniversary meal!
We went to Broussard's, where we were sufficiently coddled. Our waiter was young, but efficient. Sonya had the corn, shrimp and sweet potato bisque and a filet. I had oysters (served three ways) and the wild game grill. We also had a bottle of Coppola Claret, I had a vodka tonic when we got there and Sonya had a glass of port before we left.
We were drunk! And full of good food! There were desserts, too. The paris brest (and I giggled when the dessert waiter said "brest," pronounced just like it sounds) and profiteroles.
It was so fucking good! I have no witty remarks or amusing stories from this dinner; it was just really good.
Well, there was a table of young couples near us. Young like early twenties, anyway. The guys had on jackets and ties, the girls had on cocktail dresses. We watched two of the girls walk off to the bathroom.
"The guys are young, too," I observed, "so I guess they're not call girls."
The girls were gone a long time.
"Somebody's puking," Sonya guessed.