TABLE WHORE

Went to the office Christmas party at Seasons on Saturday. I tried to spread my time between all the three tables which led to a backlash from my native table. I was quickly labelled a table whore/slut by my coworkers. Thank you Rachel for telling me about the not so bon mots coming from around the room and for putting up with me.

Besides dying one of the table clothes red after knocking over my own wine I escaped fairly unscathed. I seem to join conversations not based on proximity but more to do with key words. If someone across a room mentions the Green Party it’s bound to perk my interest and get me going from wherever I may be.

The next day I felt like a “Bangkok hooker on Sunday morning after the navy has just left town”(Pierce Brosnan in Matador) we went for some eggs Benedict and Caesars. This is where I was introduced to a $12 breakfast at one of the best French restaurants in the City. While people were lining up for a greasy spoon breakfast in Kits for about $8 you can walk a couple blocks and go into half empty Pastis and for the gourmet version. Of course I’d still line up for the Bons off Broadway $2.99 breakfast but East Van has its own charms.