You’ve been left out at room temperature for too long with deviled eggs and apeteasers. Every word that escapes through your open bite is a amuse-buche and bon mots are served on mismatching plates for incomplete sets. You push back your hair so often, like pushing back unwanted advances of well-intentioned stranger. We have ten different kinds of dipping sauces and a terrible sense of humor, finding comedy in the way you cut your finger on a wishbone. Our guests take note of every door, window, and vent in case of an emergency.
When the party is over, we’ll leave the dishes for the morning-- for the help.
Found in Vol X (2010-2011)