Siddity In The City

Hot. Ass. Mess.

I like that phrase. Saturday night, I had dinner and drinky-drinks with X and Will. Lawd, lawd. Hot. Ass. Mess. We decided to go to Harlem Grill (2247-49 7th Ave, between 132nd and133rd), since it was sort of halfway between me and X, and across the street from Will. And, you know, since Will spoke so highly of the place, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Harlem Grill. It had a grill. And that was about all. Oh, don't get me wrong, the decor was lovely and all the furniture was there. It's just that the food and drink were missing. Will wanted a Red Stripe, and they didn't have it, so he opted for the server's suggested alternative, Chimay. They didn't have it. I asked for a Guinness and got a Brooklyn Lager or something, since they had run out of Guinness, and the bartender thought that was the next best thing, which, while bizarre, is absolutely straight up hilarious, because they served it to me at first like I wouldn't notice. Me. Not notice that what they brought me was not a Guinness. Bwahaha! Eventually, Will got my Brooklyn Lager, X got a Maker's Mark and Coke, and I straight bit off her, because I like to be adventurous. MM & C was tasty. Tasty like antifreeze is tasty. And probably just as dangerous. I think they put a little hextra MM in mine, because when X went to order a second...yeah, all gone. On to the food. I don't even remember what the first choice appetizer was, but they didn't have it. Nor did they have the lobster ravioli we all wanted. And when X ordered her back-up appetizer--rib-eye, I think--it was a different cut of meat altogether. Will, ever the diligent reporter, tracked the chef down and asked him why they didn't serve half of what was on the menu. Which was genius, because that would never have occurred to me. Apparently, the chef wasn't happy with the unavailable dishes and just stopped serving them until he felt the kitchen had gotten it right. That's cool. Gotta respect the man for that. And to be fair, what we did get was really, really good. And I'm sure that, if they served desserts, those would be really good, too, except, you know, at this point in time, they don't. But go for the food they do have, and the good humor of the staff, and the liberal bar mixage. It works. And once the place gets settled, it'll probably be superhot. But that's all pretty much immaterial, because, OMFG, I had dinner and drinky-drinks with X and Will! *jumping, clapping, happy dance, happy dance, swoon* They are too, too, too funny, and ridiculously cool (Will had waitresses who weren't even serving us in stitches, like, from across the room. That might not be a good thing, though. Hm.). And both were totally genuine and relaxed, and too cute for my turtle-neck-and-sneaker-wearing ass. X, as I said before, is gorgeous (and if she tries to feed you some rap about how she needs to lose weight, just smack her, dammit. If I could wear jeans the way that heffa can, sheeeeeit, I would never wear a thang else, lol.) And Will is officially a cutey-patootey--very handsome, and such a gentleman. I'm gonna leave it at that, since I don't relish the idea of having my life threatened via blogger comments. Anyway. I was having so much fun and was so glad I got to hang out with them, I broke my own damn rules. I had to work Sunday morning, and planned to be a good girl and get home by 10 (we met at 6), so I could be abed by 11. Did. Not. Happen. How about X kicked me out of Mandingo in front of my place at 1 a.m. And I had to be at work--not up, at work--by 6:30. And I didn't even care. 'Course, that might have had something to do with the fact that I was truly bent. Truly. And I'm not entirely sure how I got to be that way, because during the course of our six hour gabfest, I only had three drinks. Okay, three strong drinks. But still. And I ain't gonna tell you what we talked about, because what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, and what happens at Harlem Grill apparently happens in a vacuum, a vacuum into which all good things--Guinness, lobster ravioli, hilarity, sobriety--disappear. And that's all I have to say about that. It is official, I luh' dem bofe. LUH', DAMMIT! All I know is, X better bring her ass back up here soon, and Will owes me a damn bowling match. Hmph.

posted by Sid @ 2/27/2005 09:16:00 PM