Corinna's Mom came to town in perfect harmonic alignment with Critical Mass.
We went to the Melting Pot for dinner, first, easily the most extravagant meal I've had in the past few years. Rode our bikes to it, I half expected to be told, "Sir, you can't come in here smelling like this."
But no worries. I wonder why it is, the more a dinner costs the more you would expect to have to qualify to eat it. Really, if you're paying the tab, the more it costs the lower the bar should be otherwise.
Mr. Creosote from Monty Python, he's a disgusting glutton and he explodes in the restaurant, but I bet he pays for the damages and tips well. So John Cleese still sucks up to him.
If you're looking at these pics, yes, Corinna's Mom has a helmet fluff. A purple one. It's a genetic trait, I guess.
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