Hurry and Curry

I was walking to work this morning when a middle-aged slightly overweight white man with gray hair honked at me from a Cadillac and waved. I looked at him quizzically. He didn't look familiar, but, on the off chance that I didn't recognize a client or some other contact I'd made in the past, I smiled and waved back. I crossed the street, and, just as I reached the sidewalk, he yelled from his window, "Hey, honey! Where are you going? Need a ride?"

WTF? I practically ran away in my modified Mary Janes with kitten heels, which isn't the easiest thing to do in a construction zone. (This was the "hurry" part of this post's title, if you haven't figured it out already.) As I dodged potholes and uneven sidewalk cracks, I thought, "What possessed that guy to do that?" It's not like I was dressed like a hooker. I had a ponytail, and I wasn't even wearing makeup. I was wearing a simple black v-neck t-shirt and a somewhat iridescent diagonal striped light green, pink, and silver knee-length A-line skirt (it's quite fetching yet conservative, I assure you, despite the bizarre description).

It wasn't until I got to work that I realized the possible reason for the vehicular quasi-sexual harassment. Because of my weight loss, my skirt no longer sat as high on my body. It now slung somewhat lower on my hips instead of my waist.

Unbeknownst to me, I'd been flashing my midriff all morning. Midriff. Yeesh.

After this discovery, I continuously hiked up my skirt all day long, cautious not to bare my chubby white tummy anymore. Frankly, it still didn't really make sense to me, though. My pudgy marshmallow stomach really isn't very sexy. It's certainly not worthy of a honk and shout-out. What a lonely guy that must've been. Sad.

Well, on to the "curry" part. I'm all about stream of consciousness today. No artful transitions here. As the little girl on Kid Nation would say, deal with it! Ha!

The Monkeys had dinner with Mr. Monkey's family at Curry House in Little Tokyo tonight (again) (*sigh* -- Monkey Father-in-Law loves it). It's not that I hate Curry House. It's just that I love variety, and I love trying new things. I'm not one to go to the same place over and over and over again, but who am I to complain when Monkey Father-in-Law always picks up the tab? Mr. Monkey's relatives are all creatures of habit. Not adventurous at all with most things in life, including food.

Two accoutrements at Curry House that we always enjoy are the red pickles (great with rice) and the corn syrup (great to use in iced tea or iced coffee).

Mr. Monkey ordered a crab and shrimp salad, a side of stewed beef, and a side of chicken katsu. I ordered the deluxe fried shrimp curry, which comes with three fried shrimp (yes, fried -- ack!), a curry rice pilaf wrapped in a plain omelet, salad, and lots of curry. I like my curry "hot." It's not really that spicy, and it's so much better than "mild" or "medium," which are somewhat bland. (For the record, Mr. Monkey's brother always orders "mild." Everything is too spicy for him.)

The crab and shrimp salad was very good. The crab was all real; no imitation here. The dressing was well executed, too. The stewed beef was only mediocre, not particularly tender or interestingly seasoned. The chicken katsu was fine -- crunchy and golden -- as it always is. Also, as usual, my curry plate was a pro for my tastebuds and a con for my waistline. But, as you all know, I am now the Master of Portion Control. See? (Mr. Monkey ate one shrimp off my plate, too.)

A meal with Mr. Monkey's family wouldn't be complete without the Tiny Terror, now would it? I call this series "Going Crazy Over Rice." There was no screaming today, only messy eating. Thank God. Some peeps think this is cute. I...don't.

Curry House is a nice place to go for a fast casual meal. You won't find excellence there (although a number of Yelpers might disagree, as they apparently think Curry House is phenomenal), but you will find reliable inexpensive vittles. Ah, I feel Dickensian. Vittles. Gotta love the vittles.