Hallelujah

Living in the culinary capital of the world means jack squat when you're sitting at a Michelin star restaurant, taking a bite of mouth watering whatever, when the asshole at the next table lights up and starts blowing smoke in your face. Thankfully, the end to the bane of my existence may be in sight. Lee and I may finally have a reason to leave the comfy confines of our left bank apartment and venture out for a meal. I'll believe it when I see it. But I think if Starbucks can wear down the cafe owners association, then this thing might have a shot in hell.