Blech--a full, five-day work week.

Whew…I think I’m finally recovered from Saturday night.

As mentioned previously, it was the boy’s birthday. For the first phase of the celebration, I took him to dinner at Georgia Brown’s. It was the first experience there for both of us, and for the most part, it was a good one. For the appetizer course, I had she-crab soup, which was a tad too creamy, but still very flavorful. The boy had some very yummy fried green tomatoes. For the main course, I chose the sugar and spice pork chop (which was cooked perfectly), and the boy went with the Louisiana “devil” (read: stuffed with crabmeat) shrimp. Everything was tasty, but the side dishes were especially fabulous; specifically, my dish came with the most amazing maple yams, and the boy’s shrimp were accompanied by homemade mac ’n cheese and delicious sautéed spinach. So many chefs overlook the side dishes, so I’m always excited when I’m pleasantly surprised in that arena.

The one thing that was less-than thrilling was the attire of the clientele. Georgia Brown’s stated dress code is “business casual.” To me, that does NOT include jeans. However, lo and behold, a large percentage of the diners were wearing denim. Some folks were even sporting sweatpants and logo tee-shirts. Perhaps I’m conservative, but when I go out for dinner on a Saturday night in the city, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect my fellow guests to be appropriately dressed. It takes something away from the whole experience for me, especially at a place where the average entrée price hovers around $20. I mean, how hard is it for a guy to put on a pair of khakis? How hard is it for a gal to bust out her black sorority pants? If people want DC to be on the map as a culinary capital, it takes so much more than innovative chefs and excellent service—patrons must contribute to the overall atmosphere and ambiance.

After dinner, we went to Sign of the Whale and met up with my sister and her boyfriend, the boy’s sister, and some of the boy’s friends from work. I had never been to that bar before, but I had a blast (with the exception of having to grope my way to the bathroom). The music was upbeat and fun, and the vibe was really friendly. Hopefully someone got some good pictures—there were so many cameras flashing, there have to be a few winners in the bunch, right?

At the boy’s request, we headed next door to Camelot. Now, I am not anti-strip club by any means, but I was not a big fan of this one. Don’t get me wrong, most of the girls were attractive. However, they were just kind of…standing there. They came up to the stage, took everything off, and took a few turns on the pole. They didn’t seem like they were working for it, you know? I’m used to strip clubs where each girl starts out fully dressed (usually in some kind of theme costume), has a personally-selected song or two to disrobe, and really gets down to the music. Different strokes, I suppose.

After we had enough naked women, the boy and his sister and I headed to the 24-hour McDonald’s on M Street (despite the fact that, earlier in the evening, I had sworn never to eat again). It wasn’t a meatnormous experience by any means, but it was quite entertaining. By golly, were there a lot of drunk idiots in there! It reminded me of the West Knoxville IHOP after a night game—lots of greasy, beer-soaked fabulousness.

Overall, I’d say the evening was a success—the boy seemed to have a good time, and that’s the most important thing, since it was his birthday. An added bonus was getting to bond with his sister, whom I just adore.

The diet starts today (with the exception of three Restaurant Week dinners out, and lunch at the Army-Navy Club tomorrow with my boss’s boss’s boss), as does the hard-core studying. I hope everyone had a great weekend—looking forward to next week’s happy hour!