Memoirs of a Fat Girl

How do you follow up being bad? Being worse.

I was bad two days in a row and darlings, I loved it. First the coffee and yesterday, a Russian diner in the middle of nowhere with my Queens.

Coles Notes version: Raj & James bought a house, needs work, contractors acquired, James chef, professional kitchen equipment necessary, dealers/stores not in the city, rented a car, picked me up and out we went into the wild blue yonder.

Raj doesn't let James drive. He says it's because James is a bad driver. I took his word for it until Raj ignored our directions ten thousand times and we ended up taking the long way. The really really long way. As in what should have been a 15 minute drive took three hours. And then we got lost. Really really lost. It was a bad film made worse when we started getting hungry.

OPENING SCENE: ROAD TO NOWHERE. WHITE PT CRUISER HUMS ALONG, OCCUPANTS CRANKY

James: "So where do you want to eat?"

Raj: "I don't care, wherever you want."

James: "Let's have shawarma"

Raj: "Ick honey no, I had shawarma yesterday."

Me: "But we didn't have shawarma yesterday."

James: "Yeah, we didn't have shawarma yesterday."

Raj: (dramatic fluttering of hands) "Oh for fuck's sakes we'll have whatever you want, I just don't want shawarma!"

10 MINUTES GO BY

James: "Hey look, there's Wimpy's Burgers. I could really use a burger right now."

Raj: "Ick honey no, I dont want to go to Wimpy's."

James: "What's wrong with Wimpy's?"

Raj: I had a birthday party there when I was a kid. It was terrible and I get nightmares from it."

Me: "They have Wimpy's in the Middle East?"

James: "Get over it, let's have a burger."

Raj: "I don't fucking want Wimpy's!"

Me: "You're such a liar, they don't have Wimpy's in the Middle East."

Raj: (squealing) "They do they do and I am NOT going to Wimpy's or I'll just DIE."

Me: "You're lying and you are so not going to die!"

James: "Sure he will, he's already threatened to die 12 times today."

20 MORE MINUTES GO BY

Me: "Hey! A tacky Russian Diner! And it's called Russian Diner! Let's go!"

Raj: "Ick honey no, I'm not going to the Russian Diner. It looks dirty."

James: "But we want to go to the Russian Diner!"

Raj: "NO!"

Me: (wrapping my hands around Raj's neck from the backseat) "Alright look bitch, you have a choice. Taste of Israel is up ahead..."

James: "...or you can U-turn back to the Russian Diner..."

Me: "...or we strangle you."

Russian Diner it was. Sure Raj sulked and shitpicked, but he got over it. And you know, I didn't feel guilty. I've been good, and I've never been to a Russian Diner, much less one in the middle of nowehere amidst trauma and threats of strangulation. It was every bit as cheesy as I thought it would be, too: gold walls, a disco ball, fat women with blue hair, head cheese, perogies, borscht, potato salad and lox decorated with black olives from the jar.

Sure my glass had lipstick marks on it from the last person that'd used it, and it took the waitress a half-hour to explain everything to us in broken English, but we still had a fabulous time.