The Diarrhe

Sometime in between my religious awakening to Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares, a burgeoning gastronomic snobbery, and my ongoing love affair with the simplicity of Bar Mercurio L’Espresso I decided I wanted to own a restaurant.

About L’Espresso, Ramsay would say that they’re efficient, provide the right level and style of service for what they are, and are fanatical about good ingredients for a discerning crowd (and poseur undergrad and MBA types). They serve the people Bourdieu loved to talk about, recognizing the market with a keen eye to the sociology of it all and surely raking in profit for that very reason. Great business model in theory really.

It’s one of those things you could put together after taking out a hefty loan and accumulating some capital as a young professional. I’d put effort into it because it represents me and I’d charm the shit out of anyone that came in. I’d wear a starched collar, hire the right people, and source quality. Best part is, if it failed I could always claim it was an experimental diversion, cut my losses, and go sue people until retirement as was always the “plan”.

Perhaps because it’s me, my mother’s small-talking at the table comes off as grating and fake. Perhaps I know intuitively just how disapproving she really is of a vacation to Vegas despite her smiles and nods in agreement. As her son, I’m well aware that the idea of such a trip equates to more or less everything she loathes in life.

Across the table my brother is an obnoxious smartass. He’s quick to shoot off a sarcastic comment to my parents or roll his eyes. But he’s also liable to correct anyone at the table with the express interest in demonstrating his knowledge as if diners aboard ship were really all there to play a quick game of pick-up jeopardy.

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I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves. I think we’re so caught up in the fact that Perez Hilton was a douchebag to Miss California that we’ve lost perspective.

What we’re forgetting is that her social commentary was part of a beauty pageant and that her stupidity is irrelevant. Carrie Prejean is a certified piece and in that beauty pageant kind of way this all just makes her hotter.