Just a Friendly Heads-Up

(very quickly: yes, I am still alive, I've just been alternating intense activity with intense relaxation.)

Five Things That Aren't Worth The Price Of Admission

1.) Cashmere socks. Yes, their warmth and comfort is unparalleled. But for someone who walks with a pretty intense heel strike, they last maybe 6 hours.

2.) Garments involving Issey Miyake's signature pleating. Everyone will ask if you own an iron. Also, you have to hand-wash and then rubber-band them around a broomstick to dry, unless you want to discover that the shirt actually involves about five yards of material and needs to be pleated so as to not resemble a circus tent.

3.) Adios Motherfuckers made with top-shelf liquor. Top-shelf liquors have their benefits. Said benefits are nullified by mixing four at once.

4.) Mediocre crème brûlée. The road to Cholesterolville should be paved with delight. Not soggy, eggy custards with charred tops.

5.) A certain local restaurant, which shall remain unnamed at the risk of offending. I'm fine with the rich hippie scene. Hell, I like it sometimes. But, as with so much in life, it's got to be done right (see also: Ventana Inn, Big Sur, Ca.). So, Certain Local Restaurant, make up your damned mind: either up the prices so you're special-occasion-worthy or lower them so I don't have to grit my teeth about spending $15 on a roasted half-chicken.