Would I have to start planning outfits around the tattoo like I plan for weather?
Don't get the curry crab, Louise. Don't do it. There's no way you can do this gracefully.
"I'll have the curry crab, thank you!"
On day one of our three-day FANCY Macau vacation, my friend Abby and I decided to treat ourselves to a FANCY lunch in our FANCY hotel.
I admit I may have been a little overzealous, overconfident, and over caffeinated at this point. I love luxury, but I so rarely experience it that my brain tends to short circuit a bit and I become the equivalent of a Labrador puppy. That is, I want to lick everything.
So drunk with excitement over the stupendous deal I got on a hotel I could never usually afford, I went for the FANCY crab dish in the FANCY restaurant. If I'm going to eat fish, I want it to be FANCY.
They ceremoniously brought the crab out in a bubbling cauldron of fragrant sauce. An elegant looking woman smiled at me as she arranged plates and shell-cracking utensils before me.
As Abby and other FANCY-looking people ate with knives and forks around me, I dug into the crab with both hands (because forks are dumb with crabs... I tried).
It wasn't long before I was up to my elbows in brown, spicy, DELICIOUS crab and sauce. I am not handy with a shell cracker, so as my NEED for the crab increased so did my comfort level with using my teeth. I know, it's a horrific image, but I couldn't get the darn thing open! I spent my prime crab-cracking-learning years in Dallas!
Between my teeth and the slim, stylish shell-cracking device they gave me (though the scissor-like handles were a bit too dainty for my saucy fingers to properly use), the curry crab released it's goodness.
I was one happy, messy, slobbery Labrador puppy.
Needless to say I was covered in curry crab. I tried really hard to keep the table as tidy as possible so the servers wouldn't HATE me, but it seemed like the harder I tried, the further the sauce flew. My attempt to "clean as I ate" was downright stupid.
After the carnage was over and I had picked almost all of the rogue crab shell from my hair, I tried to wipe up the table a little before we left. Our server came over, picked the napkin out of my hand, and said, "NO! Please don't. Thank you! You enjoyed the crab! You're all done here! Thank you! Goodbye!"
I did feel a little bad when I left — it's no fun to have to clean up after the Crab-pocalypse. I really did try to eat my curry crab gracefully. But it was curry crab.
How have you ever "failed" at being fancy? What forms of elegance escape you? What is your "curry crab experience"?
Tell me your FANCY fails in FANCY places!