My home remedy for such things is the ever traditional spicy foods. Some Jamaican food with ginger beer for lunch did wonders. By the time I got hungry for dinner, I wanted another hit of spice, so I voted for getting some vindaloo from Tandoor Palace, really, the best Indian place in town, and just down the street a short walk.
There's been something about my timing with Indian cravings lately- every time I go, there's someone doing something totally boorish and disrupting. The last time, this couple was there with their child, who felt that maximum volume was a pleasant setting, and her parents did nothing to dissuade her in this. I don't blame the child- but I most certainly was annoyed with the parents.
Tonight however, the source of the disruption was, ostensibly an adult. An adult that felt the need to air private details about her fucked up, drama filled life, in a loud, projecting tone. I could have gone my entire life without knowing about her mother's nervous breakdown, or her crazy brother, or anything else about her. The poor man sitting across from her managed to get three or maybe four sentances in during the entire meal, leaving the rest of it open for a steady stream of louder-than-needed aimless rants from this bubble headed twit.
Among the more memorable claims, her crazy brother believes he can start fires with his fingers. Meanwhile, she claims to understand what it's like to be skinned alive, and tortured. Sure she does.
Before they arrived,
That said, this finally got me off my ass and I finally made
