Dear Indian Restauranteurs:

You fail at life.

Your food wasn't mediocre -- it was just flat out bad and not only did you screw me over when it came to the food (not nearly enough curry and no incidentals. Your grandmothers are spinning right now), but you screwed me financially too. You never screw over another member of the tribe. Didn't y'all get that memo?

See, this is the problem with being ethnic. Any time you go out to eat at an eatery catering to your particular ethnicity, you get screwed because the food never tastes as good as your mom's.

That and I think that the sub-par Indian food I had tonight singed The Boyfriend's vocal chords.

From now on, unless it's made by Mom or monks -- I'm not going anywhere near it.

Sincerely:

Jaime

P.S. -- I supplemented tonight's dinner with a half a bottle of Sparkletini, so if this entry isn't exactly lucid...well, that's why.