Gold chains on guys are really wrong.
I love my Moleskine notebook, my favorite travel companion.
I miss the gym.
For Christmas, I want a big sack of cash.
Please tell me that Jude Law does not smoke in real life.
Though water at the Hyatt Regency was served in a water cooler, I was fully aware that it was tap.
That low-carb turkey wrap wasn't half-bad.
Today, Williams-Sonoma was teeming with gay customer service representatives. I felt like I was in a gay club, actually. And every day there is some kind of new find. Today was Graffeo, a small shop on Beverly Drive that roasts its own beans on the premises and sells nothing else. They don't serve drinks, they don't serve anything at all. They can only measure how many beans you want. As I typically do, I asked the store manager about the company history. He said that it was based in San Francisco. My eyes lit up.
"Oh, was it the place that, when you go in on the left side, you see the roasters behind glass, and there's a cafe?" Duke had taken me there a little over two months ago when we were in North Beach.
"Oh no, that's Caffe Roma, their beans aren't as good. But yes, we're in North Beach."
I recalled that Caffe Roma served me an espresso that I was entirely satisfied with. But Graffeo beans also mean business. I've got some brewing now and the whole apartment smells like la dolce vita.
posted by Lucy Sloan @ 6:04 PM
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