Oh, The Places We Can Go With Auntie Alvin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                              On Sunday, my beloved and I piled into Auntie Alvin's car, and whizzed off on an adventure.  As we began speeding down Ridge Blvd., we saw the woman, whom we refer to as "Joan," being code for Bay Ridge's version of Joan Didion, walk out of her building, cigarette in hand.  I almost shouted out for Joan to come with us; what a jaunt that would have been!  And what a wild couple Auntie Alvin and Joan would make!!!!!!!!!!!

                                We traveled to Staten Island, which I don't mean to disparage, but honestly, after what I endured, what can I do?  At Auntie Alvin's request, we dined at the Hibachi Grill And Supreme Buffet.  Now, I am not a buffet person; an exception being The Court Of Two Sisters. But that is in New Orleans, so what do you expect?

                                  A lot of horns tooted at us--I wonder why???--and Auntie Alvin got confused a couple of times. But it was the experience I had at the above place that has soured me altogether on buffets, and Staten Island, in general.

                                    I mean, what is wrong with these people? Do they have ***t for brains?  The buffet was overwhelming; not just Asian, but everything--Italian, meat, chicken, you name it.  That didn't bother me; I just  picked. But, when I came to the desert bar, there was a yummy assortment of fruit, which is a nice light way to polish off a meal.  I had my taste buds set for the honey dew--until this fat guy standing over it, next to me, with the tongs right in front of them, ignored the utensil and stuck his hand into the honey dew, grabbed a bunch, and put it on his plate.

                                     I walked away.  That finished it for me.  Then I encountered my beloved, who informed me we would never come back here, because the food and clientele were so low end. When I told him what had happened with me, that cemented it.  I went home that evening, certain I was going to get some kind of food poisoning, because who knows what else this guy, or others there, had touched?

                                        Which is why I hate buffets and salad bars.  But the trip was not a total lost. We stopped at a Rite-Aid, where my beloved found items not available in our neighborhood, then we went to a Barnes And Noble, where I immediately found two books it would have been hard to find in Manhattan these days--"Promise Not To Tell," by Jennifer McMahon (to be discussed later), and the Fannie Flagg classic, "Fred Green Tomatoes At The Whistle Stop Cafe."  You know we will discuss that one, dolls!

                                           We persevered and we survived.  No food poisoning, and Paula Zahn put us to sleep.

                                              Honestly, darlings, I cannot blame Staten Island for all this. But, if there, avoid this eatery under all circumstances!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!