I may or may not be stalking M. LaBee, the baker formerly known as The Mister Who Would Not Watch Gossip Girl (if you are one of the seven bl*g readers able to follow that sentence, I love and am available to stalk you, too, if you're looking for some attention). It may or may not be coincidence that we've "run into each other" three times in the past two days. Regardless, like most of M. LaBee's stalkers friends, I will do anything he tells me to except leave him alone respect his opinion. For example, last night I took his suggestion and ate dinner at Bite Me; I even got the pizza he recommended (Homage to Goats: Rosemary-roasted fingerling potatoes, chevre, baby arugula, roasted garlic, asiago & mozzarella cheeses, finished with a balsamic oil glaze). Chris and I now officially love that place: we love the food, we love the art, we love the candles, we love the nice guy behind the counter, we love the nice guy who cooks the pizza, we love the nice guy who recommended it...we cannot, however, bring ourselves to love the Grateful Dead playing over the speakers.
And this afternoon I'm meeting M. LaBee so he can help me select some wine for my wine cellar drinking pleasure. Instead of buying one bottle every few days, I'm going to buy six at once and save 10%. See, Chris? I'm not splurging on booze, I'm a bargain stalker shopper!
Which goes to show, it really pays to be a stalker friends with M. LaBee; I have a feeling it would pay even more to have a slave baker. All in good time...