Point me to the closest meteorologist so I can smack him/her. And ask for my money back.This summer sucks. I know I've said it before, and I'll say it again. It sucks. This morning I awoke to dark clouds, rain, and 59 degrees. 59 degrees. On July 18. What exactly is wrong with this picture?
I know I said I'm not big on sub-Saharan temperatures, and I'm not. I'd just like plenty of sunshine and temperatures in the low 80's. Is that too much to ask???
But I digress. On a lighter (but still cold) note, the yum-fest at Melt (paramount mecca of grilled cheese) did not go down as planned. My pal Tricia and myself arrived at Melt, eagerly awaiting a huge sandwich full of cheesy goodness and potential nirvana, when we saw the line. I'd been warned by a co-worker ahead of time (Thursday) that there would be a wait. So we waited for like fifteen minutes, and no one came to seat us. We see this "oh I'm a starving artist but since I'm starving I decided to get a slightly more sub par job just so I could eat" kind of guy standing at the front counter, and we just assumed that you just paid your bill there.
Oh, no. We amble on over to the counter, curious as to why we hadn't been escorted to a table yet. Tricia asks him if we're supposed to give our names. Starving Artist Guy says yes, you do. Tricia asks him if he was going to tell us that since we'd been standing by the "Please Wait To Be Served" sign for like fifteen minutes, and she said you had to have seen us. SAG gets slightly miffed and a bit defensive and says that he just got there, he didn't see us. SAG is a liar, he'd been at the counter when we'd gotten in line, but I sense a potential fight about to go down, so I tell him that it's okay and ask how long the wait is. He says an hour to about an hour and a half. No one waits that long for cheesy bliss, no matter how much you love grilled cheese.
(In case you're slightly curious, here is a link to Melt's homepage. Look at the menu. You know you want to. Kind of. Maybe. A little. http://www.meltbarandgrilled.com)
So we hustle out of there, trying to decide where we're gonna eat, since we are both starving. We decide Harry Buffalo, because the last time we went there we had this totally kickass pizza. Tricia calls up her husband Josh, and we have a grand old time at Harry Buffalo over pizza and beer (I hate beer, so I had a Sprite) and a vast assortment of appetizers. I think I gained five pounds last night.
We went back to Tricia's mom's house, Nicky in tow, to make some crazy "pimp cups" that we're going to try to sneak in to the Indians game tomorrow. Nicky and Taylor (Tricia's 2 year old daughter) made some crazy-looking cups--glitter glue, pom-poms, stickers, and random colored feathers. I'll have to post some pictures in my next post so you can see their amazing artwork.
Ughhh. I am freezing. Someone turned the air on--dude, you can crank the AC all you want, but it isn't going to make it any hotter outside. Why be in denial? Throw on a sweatshirt, turn off the air conditioner, and call it a day.
