I spend so much time questioning the likelihood that I will experience happiness in the future that I often forget to appreciate it in the present. I have been screaming hakuna matata to snap myself back into the present but I have found it is often just a substitution for the involuntary profanity during road rage whenever some pedestrian saunters across the street during rush hour. Those are the real hakuna matatas. They give 0 fucks about anything. What a delightful way to live. Stay tuned for my self help book called: Giving 0 Fucks: Life Begins at 40! A Guide to giving the absolute least fucks about anything and anyone around you. Chapter 1 - You can never walk too slow. Chapter 2 - Driving with signals and purpose is for losers.
Anyway the point I was trying to make without making, is that while it is rare that I can appreciate the moment, I must thank Old Major for reminding me that I can on occasion be forced to experience the present. This place is doing everything right. What a pleasant change from the norm to find that every person from the valet to the hosts to the bar tenders and wait staff is genuinely interested in or at least very proficient in appearing to be interested in where they work. Which reminds me of that horrible little Dali-stached, side-pony rat-tail having tweenesque waiter who's personal grooming style was dance like no one is watching. Anyway, how can we appreciate happiness without being reminded of the horrors in life we have overcome, like leaving that restaurant and going to Old Major. I should mention, back to the valet, that as a bona fide cheapskate I don't normally take a valet (even though this was complimentary) and someday when I finish my parking app (I'm still in the early stages of creating heat sensors underneath the surface of the city so when someone leaves a free parking spot it will automatically signal to its satellite and tell the city - Hey that girl just left that parking place right over there and it costs no dollars, huzzah, go get it and have a great time not driving around for hours looking for a free parking space when there are surface lots galore. I hope the opportunity cost of being an hour late was worth saving that dollar dummy) and therefore there will no longer be any use for the valet. In due time valets, in due time. I just need $1billion to get started.
In addition to the delightful service the drinks were perfect. I love a rusty nail in the winter time and this visit coincided with one of the coldest days I have ever known. Like Minnesota, what is the point of living cold, so it was nice to drink something that immediately reminded me the point was to drink scotch. Well done world. The food was everything I needed it to be and reminded me that to bone is to bone marrow as it was far superior to all other bones marrow. The mushroom grits were also incredible. I have complained to you many a time at least inside of my head but possibly also on the world wide web that Denver is shit for grits because for some reason no one here could master the cook time which isn't really that difficult and that includes places that claimed to specialize in gritsing but instead they specialized in disappointing my mouth. I am a changed woman now thankyouverymuch to this little grits dish and I remember some kind of fantastical Brussels sprout number that knocked my pants and shirt off.
To make a long story short, I walked out feeling sated like a wealthy Victorian, a little warm drunk and red from the enjoyment that consumed my evening. Well done Old Major.
I want to be INSIDE YOU again.
