Party of One

So this is the thing.

I am new to Santa Barbara.  I don't know anybody here sans some family, and I am a neurotic person, so this is where we're at.

I have joined Match.com to meet people.  Nope.  Not "meat" people, which some, I've discovered, are definitely on there to do.  I'm not a bar lady, I'm working on my art and job hunting, so this is what I'm left with for the time being.  I actually agreed to meet two guys who are named "Ishmael" and "Charlie" because those are the names of my cats and I miss them (they're in Austin).

I told you I was weird.

Anyway, some people would just wait to meet people, right?  No.  I like food way to much to just sit idly by and *wait* for somebody to ask me out to dinner.  Have you HAD the crab here??

Breakfast of Hercules

Because I have this thing.  I feel awkward eating alone.  I'm like most women, I carry those GIANT purses around with me, which is good because they can fit in three books and a sketch pad, but COME ON.  I don't want to READ or PRETEND TEXT while I'm trying to enjoy a most delicious meal that should clearly be for two.

I mean, how many tables are there with just one chair?  So I say boo to that.

This brings us to today's conundrum.  At this point, I'm just hungry.  And my single ass has what my friend lovingly referred to as the "Breakfast of Hercules" - a handle of vodka and Brown Cow yogurt.  You know, the contents of a fridge really say something about a person.  This right here says "anorexic rock star", which I assure you...I am not.

So, like any other gen Y 20-something, I ACTUALLY tried to Google places to go that would be one-party friendly.  And then after I cried just a little bit (because, REALLY?), I decided there needed to be a blog for people like me. I know I'm not the only one that likes food and sometimes wants to eat by myself but not fast food or crappy coffee shop "sandwiches".  I'm not making this blog, but I think you should, so I can read it.  Okay?  Thanks.

You wanna know what I did?  I ordered chinese food.  And you know what?  Those bastards did this to me.

This is just mean.

Not a spoon, but a fork.  Not just one fork, but two.

     What.       The.         Fuck.



Thanks, China.

And by the way, this wasn't very nice either.

Rude.