the Dalaverse

Oh god ::clutches head::

So yesterday was Ingrid's birthday party and dinner. The annoying cold was still lingering, but I was not about to miss the Restaurant Week deal at Fogo de Chao. I stopped eating around 3pm and was nicely starved by our 9pm reservation (they were packed). Most people were coming in a big group and they were late, so it was just me and Ingrid's family for about half an hour, which was a little awkward. Then everyone finally got there and we tucked in.

And I proceeded to eat my weight in meat.

There were handsome waiters carrying giant skewers of meat everywhere I looked; I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. It was exactly as good as I was expecting. I actually held back a little, knowing I'd been sick and we were going out later. But I tried everything except for the lamb chops, as I've decided I come down firmly on the anti-lamb side; it has a weird under-flavor that tastes almost rotten to me. At least I think I tried everything. It was very easy to lose track. The filet mignon and juicy, rare, perfect bottom sirloin were my favorites. I dabble in the salad bar a little and helped myself to the fried plantains, but really it was all about the beef. There were sixteen in our party and I'm pretty sure we consumed at least one whole cow between us. Also? The bill was over eight hundred dollars. I'm pretty sure the next time I look at a single meal that costs anywhere near that much, it'll be at my wedding.

After all the meat and cake, we headed to Georgetown where the Metro is very far away and the parking is a hassle. Ingrid had rented out two tables at a club, and though clubs are not really my thing, it was pretty lounge-y and we had our own space so it wasn't bad at all. We also had two bottles of vodka. I really was not intending to drink. I was going to have one screwdriver, pay my portion of the table fee, wish Ingrid happy birthday and hike to Metro. But I was a little uncomfortable because I didn't really know anybody there, so I kept drinking. Ended up playing Never Have I Ever with a couple of Ingrid's friends, in which I lied like a rug because hey, how would they know? Her cousin was going to drive me to Metro on the way out, but it was nearly 3 by the time we left and the chance of missing the last train was too great. So she drove me all the way home (in her general direction, but not exactly on her way). I was so grateful, I'm pretty sure I kissed her hand on my way out of the car.

I was drunk, it was nearly dawn, and no one was awake to pay attention to me, so I eventually crawled into bed. Now I'm stuck with that gross feeling that isn't quite a hangover - the headache could be cold-related, for all I know - and guzzling water and ibuprofen until it goes away.