An evening at the Ivy
Just to let everyone know,
despite my blog, my life is not always cupcakes and cashmere.
In another post, I will discuss my thoughts on our generation, technology, connections, and reality,
but for right now i’m going to talk about my night at the Ivy.
I couldn’t think of a better place to celebrate my employment, than the overpriced, tourist filled, and ultimate staple of Los Angeles…
I still love it.
Even when the waiters, who resemble real-life ken dolls with their botox filled expressions try to hustle you for the most expensive dish, I still effing love it.
And its Shark Week… pass the gummies.
I swear we cannot take my dad anywhere.
Tonight, we were located in the back of the patio next to what my dad called, “the key table.”
The key table was just a couch against a wall, but to my father, it represented power.
“That’s where people in the mafia sit.”
He said this just loud enough for the italian man and his posse of two blondes could hear.
I inhaled my mojito to erase my embarrassment.
Goodnight America, i’m employed.