Monday, September 17, 2012

Some resTOErant art.

My friend, Dustin, recently had a freak accident with his kitchen table.

Yes, apparently kitchen tables can be instruments of freak accidents.

Anyway, while trying to take the leaf out of his kitchen table, he dropped the leaf on his big toe and the table leaf - that seemingly innocuous thing that you have sitting in YOUR kitchen, too - severed his big toe.  Popped that sucker right off.  Well, half of it at least.  And because it was a rounded-dull-edged-table kind of accident and not a sharp machete kind of accident that severed his toe, they were not able to reattach it.  So now he has half a toe.  All because he tried to clean up after an evening with dinner guests.

This is EXACTLY why I don't like housework - it can LITERALLY amputate parts of your body.  Who needs THAT?  You ever see a hoarder with a partially amputated toe?  No.  They have it figured out.

ANYWAY, none of this has anything to do with my blog today.  Not really.  But Dustin and his wife Alana are faithful readers of my little blog and so I wanted to try to bring him a laugh or two during his recovery and I wanted to dedicate this post to him. 

You'll see why . . .


So my friend Greg texted me some pictures a while back.  I hope you're keeping track of how many friends I have.  I have mentioned three so far in this post.  Don't be jealous.

ANYWAY, my friend Greg went to a restaurant in Houston and saw some pictures that he thought I might like to blog about.  So he texted them to me back in April.  I loved them, of course, and decided that I must go to the restaurant as soon as possible to see them for myself before blogging about them.  So, never being one to procrastinate, I went during the first week of September.  And I'm blogging about it two weeks later.

I'm a doer, you see.

The restaurant is called Macondo Latin Bistro and it's in downtown Houston.  They serve Cuban and Columbian food and I was pleasantly surprised at how tasty their food was - I ordered some sort of Cuban dish and loved it.  My mom, who went with me, ordered a cheese quesadilla with no sour cream and no guacamole.  She is an adventurous eater, as you can see.  But she said it was the best plain cheese quesadilla she'd ever had.  So that's something . . .

Just as the food didn't disappoint, neither did the art.  It was a feast for the mouth AND the eyes.  Not all restaurants can offer you that.  And, while I can't share the Cuban yumminess with you (and I wouldn't have, anyway, because it was too good and you should get your own and quit staring at my food, okay?),  I CAN share with you the wonderful art that awaits you at Macondo Latin Bistro.

First, there was Lady Libertoe:

Ho.  Ly.  WHAT?  I don't know what to focus my attention on - the toes or the softball boobs?  I start to type about the toes and then I look at the boobs and feel compelled to write about THEM.  Then I go back to the toes.  My thoughts center around two thoughts: 1) how I need whatever bra she uses and I need it STAT, and 2) how her pedicures are either really cheap, what with the 2 toenails and all, or really expensive because she probably has to shop at Sherwin Williams for her polish colors.  I wonder if she chooses an eggshell or satin finish.  It's a legitimate question.

I hope you're not having toe-envy, Dustin . . .

I think this next one is Lady Libertoe's sister.  I call her Lady Justoe (I can do this all night . . .):

It's a good thing that justice is blind.  I wouldn't want to her to see that her gown is clinging in all the wrong places.  Or the pervert who's trying to get a better look at her . . . ummmm . . . scales.

Then there was the lady walking her dog in the gale-force winds:

Good thing she has that umbrella . . .

I imagine that this is her sister.  I call her the Nurturer: 

I really don't know why these people are out walking in such strong winds.  And why they don't open their eyes.  You can't clomp around with those big toes and not watch where you're going.  It's irresponsible.

I call this lady "the Seductress:"

Nothing like leaning back provocatively, with a disproportionate purse by your side, letting the wind blow through your stringy hair and your giant toes.  It's a sure-fire way to bring the menfolk running.  At least that's what I've always found.

I call this guy "Cappie."

I really don't know what's going on here.  If you listen closely, you can actually hear his knee caps crying out in agony.  They are about to give up any minute.  Like his button did.

And there's the "Cellist." 

I'm sure he's an award-winning musician - certainly his cat thinks so.  But I think the suspenders deserve all the recognition here.  They're giving it all they have.

And, finally, I call this one . . . ummmm . . . well . . .

Yeah - I have no idea what the heck's going on in this one.  Are they asleep?  Are they in a stupor?  Are they stepping on each others' enormous toes?  I have no idea.  But something tells me the little cross-eyed guy in the back knows EXACTLY what's going on.

So that's it.  Those are the pictures that await you at Mocondo Latin Bistro.  Along with some very yummy South American food, if you're up for something more than a plain cheese quesadilla.  So head on over there and enjoy all of it.

It's TOEtally worth it . . .