Seriously, I appriciate when people I don't know well come to a restaurant with Burmese food and Malaysian food and don't act freaked out by the exotic variety and the unpronouncable names and the all the lemongrass and coconut rice, seriously, is it weird that I care so much about the fact that he seemed so nonchalant about getting a special sort of soup I will probably never see again unless I went to Burma or Malaysia and didn't cross his eyes and didn't ask the waiter ignorant questions and didn't even act pretentious at the onset of tofu and more lemongrass and his spicy chai, seriously, there was not a word from the table of the chopsticks and deeply ethnic food under the ceiling fans and early 20th century ceilings hanging high like the smoke from the kitchen as the new cook lost his way.
(yeah, and I seriously skipped work again today and went to eat with some friends.)
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