Zagat No Good

Last Friday, I met a couple of the Boy's friends at the Pearl Oyster Bar for dinner. Before this meeting, I only knew of them as the Greek and the Indian, as I had never met them before. It doesn't sound very PC, but ethnicity is a more memorable identifier than names sometimes, especially for people that you've never met. The Greek actually started a conversation about how he refers to his friends and associates by their ethnicities also when talking to his mother in Greece since she would never remember who he was referring to if he used names. Hence, the Boy's pseudonym was "the Taiwanese," and I'm supposing that I was "the Taiwanese's Girl" up until Friday.

Recently, I developed a strong liking for raw oysters after restaurant hopping with a couple of coworkers in LA. Before, I would have cringed and gagged at the thought of eating an uncooked, soft, slippery mollusk. But after trying one out of politeness, I was hooked. I was a little disappointed with the Pearl Oyster Bar, though. The oysters weren't as fresh as the ones I'd had in LA and a bit sandy. Zagat must have been high when they decided to give the restaurant a 27. Either that, or totally smashed drunk as the Boy and I were after drinking about 3/4 bottles of wine each. Between the four of us, we had three bottles of wine, and two of us woke up with a hangover the next day.