 |
Tainted. A very apropos
adjective to start off a review that stems from a work event. There's
no way to remain impartial or cognizant of one's surroundings in any
kind of meaningful way. That is, especially when one is bamboozled
into sitting down at a very long table to drink sparingly and share
hors d'oeuvres with equally stunned co-workers when you thought you
were going to an informal gathering at a bar where you could group
off in pairs of threes and badmouth the one guy who ends up sitting
next to you at said table--not that I'd ever do that. So I observed
very little other than the fact I would have rather been in a bar
than this brightly lit, medium-priced Midtown nouveau-Italian snoozefest.
Again, I could have been a victim of circumstance, but the place had
all the charm of a fifth grade cafeteria, and was about as Italian
as Bowser from Sha-na-na. The only thing I ate was a couple handfuls
of fried calamari, which was actually very good. I was starving, I
must admit, so they could have fried the tongue of the sous-chef's
puffy Reebok and I would have gobbled it like Al Roker on weed. And
then I beat a hasty retreat--backing awkwardly away from the table,
retracing my steps from the door--actually stepping into my original
footprints and spilling out into the street like a palsy victim. I
immediately went to a bar and washed the stench of corporate teambuilding
from my person with about nine cold beers. [MF]
|
Hipster Movie Reviews
Hipster Book Reviews
Music