Well hey, friends. Another weekend, gone. They leave us so fast, don’t they?

This weekend was kind of exhausting. Friday night I went out and had fun, but Saturday was spent hunting apartments from morning til night, and Sunday was consumed by a 2-hour workout (combined Saturday and Sundays weight routines plus cardio) and then all the cleaning.

But Friday night, as I said, was fun.

Mr. T treated me to dinner at Ripple in Cleveland Park. I’m not going to do a full restaurant review of it though, because I wasn’t impressed and think I need to try it again before I pass full judgment.

After we dined on over-priced, not incredibly delicious fare, I suggested we hop over to Tackle Box for $1 oysters.

We split a dozen oysters, in varying sizes and flavors. Some of them were too big to swallow in one gulp!

I used to hate oysters, after a traumatizing experience when I tried to chew them <- never chew them.

But now that I live closer to the sea, I’ve found myself craving them on occasion. Especially when topped with enough Tabasco sauce to chap the lips right off your face.

While we were slurping our shells, I also discovered a new favorite beer – National Bohemian, or “Natty Boh”, straight from Charm City. I liked it because it was local, easy to drink in large quantities, and cheap. It quite reminded me of my first beer love, Miller Lite. Judgers can judge for that, but sometimes I just like a light beer okay? It takes me back to a simpler time.

Maybe that’s what spurred the decision to order a platter of fries. That or the fact that I was still starving after our lackluster dinner.

Do you like oysters?

Are you a beer judger?

I hate feeling stupid.

We all do, I’m sure.

Unfortunately, I possess a certain set of characteristics that result in the feeling of stupid more often than I would like.

For instance, I’m not a good driver. I’m not a terrible driver, and I’m getting better, but I do have a propensity to run into inanimate objects.

It hasn’t happened in awhile, but there are little bruises all over my car that remind me of my shortcomings.

It pisses me off.

Another thing that gets me into trouble is that I’m not very observant.

I’m in my head all the time and thinking about a million different things at once, which often results in me doing stupid little things like running into doors or spilling things on myself.

Most of the time, I just laugh it off.

I mean, in many other ways, I’m quite intelligent. I’m good at thinking smart things, and saying smart things – just not so great at DOING smart things.

Whatever, two out of three ain’t bad.

Regardless, I’m the only one who is allowed to make fun of these things I do – in the same way that I’m the only one who is allowed to make fun of my friends or family. If you do it, I will cut you.

Because these are sore subjects for me, and you never know how I’m going to take it.

Sometimes, when I’m in a particularly jovial mood, a little jab at my driving skills will result in outward laugher and inward tears (it always embarrasses me, human nature). But other times, if I’m not in the correct mental space, I will unleash a full-blown hate storm on my verbal assailant. Even if it was a joke, and even if you think it was REALLY funny.

Another thing that really just inflames me, is pointing out the obvious.

Let me paint you a mental picture.

I’m sitting at a table and take a sip of a liquid substance.

Upon trying to accomplish this, I spill said substance all over my person.

Someone then points out, “Hey, you spilled that all over yourself.”

Um, no shit. I did not need your commentary.

So, to be safe: Don’t make fun of how I drive, or how I can’t drink water and walk at the same time – then we’ll all still be friends.

It is not a good idea to borrow a book from an acquaintance you don’t particularly like just because you like the title. You’re not likely to actually enjoy his choice of Russian conspiracy literature, but you’ll still have to finish it so he doesn’t mock you. The mocking being the reason you don’t particularly like him. That, and his homophobic, closed-minded rants that kill your insides little by little, every day.

You know you should never complain again when you find yourself complaining that you haven’t had time to catch up on The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and The Bachelor. Besides, The Challenge is back on and that’s way more important.

There’s this candy dish at work. It is the bane of my existence, because it’s located right next to my desk. The guy who keeps it stocked was given approval to start working from home, so the candy stopped being refilled. I was excited, and thought maybe I would lose a few pounds. Then, people started wandering over to the candy dish looking all forlorn without their daily sugar fix, and I felt bad. I’m a people pleaser, so I went out and restocked the damn candy dish. I also stocked it with top notch shit – Dove chocolate and Twix bars (okay, that’s not top notch, but it’s good) – which means I’m probably going to hit the dish even more often than I used to. I have no one to blame here, but myself.

The not weighing myself every day thing is going pretty well. Or at least it was, until today, when I stepped on it before I was fully awake and saw that I’ve gone up quite a bit since last week. I wonder why?

Because I spend the majority of my day on the Internet, or watching TV, or watching Netflix on my phone – I’ve instituted a mandatory ten minutes of both (non-blog, non-Internet) reading and (non-blog) writing at least 5 days per week. Once I get into a routine with this, I hope to increase the time for both, but I have to start small. To start out, I’m using this site to give me prompts for free writing, but hopefully I’ll gain enough discipline to actually write something I’d like someone to read someday.

Mr. T and his friends signed up for some sort of online workout video game type thing and of course I had to jump on board. I’m on Level 6!

I got a free burger from Bgr Shack for my birthday. I guess I need to stop ordering my burgers “medium well” because it was charred to a crisp and tasted like burning. I can deal with pink in the middle of a steak, but pink in the middle of a burger just freaks me out. Eating raw hamburger meat is gross, y’all. I don’t feel it’s too much to ask for a fully-cooked burger that isn’t crusted with a thick layer of ash. The employees were incredibly nice though, so I’ll go back and try again.

I only cursed one time in this post. Progress?

For a very long time, I was blessed with a broken picker. I had good intentions, but every time I’d start “dating” (in quotations because I’ve probably been on less than ten non-relationship, real dates) I’d pick the absolute wrong guy.

Every time.

Eventually I just gave up and stopped picking at all, because I realized the problem was me. You can’t pick properly if you’re a hot mess emotionally. Let that be known.

Then I stumbled upon Mr. T and got to thinking that maybe my picker has been rehabilitated. That, or I didn’t pick him and our relationship was fated to be, but either way I think I’ve found a keeper.

I can’t see into the future, and have no idea what will happen with us, but I am confident enough to say that he is the best I’ve ever picked.

Since I started dating Mr. T, I’ve struggled with how to represent our relationship on the blog.

I don’t want to give an inaccurate sense that everything is perfect between us and I don’t want to write about him in every post – because I have a life outside of my relationship – but I also don’t want to brush off something and someone who is so important to me by not talking about him or giving him credit for being a great guy.

I’m by no means an expert in picking now, but I am an expert in picking badly, and I’ve noticed some sharp contrasts between what I’ve found in Mr. T and what I chose in past dud boyfriends.

So yes, this basically an excuse to tell you guys how awesome my boyfriend is, but I won’t do this every day. Promise. And I didn’t post it on Valentine’s Day, so at least I’m not that annoying. Right?

All that being said, I present -  Signs that Your Picker is Healthy:

You’d be friends with his friends. This is vitally important. I’ve been in many a relationship, but very rarely did I become good friends with a bf’s friends. Either I was never introduced to them (VERY bad sign), they were older and just hated my youth (downside of dating older, which is something I usually encourage) or they were total douche faces I wanted nothing to do with (most common scenario).

Mr. T and I had been courting for awhile before I began to feel a romantic connection because I was so closed off, but once I met his friends and saw that he hung out with awesome people I loved immediately, I started to sweat him pretty hard. Having non-douche friends is a major turn-on. Life is just so much easier when you like a love interest’s friends and when he likes yours. But more than that, if you abhor every friend someone your dating has, it’s probably a sign that you won’t see eye to eye very often.

He makes you things. There’s a lot of hype about dating rich guys, but I think it’s better to go for the thoughtful and creative ones (bonus points if they’re thoughtful, creative AND rich). The card Mr. T made me for Christmas was a clutch moment. I like stuff. I’m pretty materialistic, if we’re being honest. However, I don’t like getting stuff from boyfriends if I can’t afford to return the favor. And even though I would never turn away diamonds, they’re just not as personal as something that is hand-made just for you.

Your family likes him (before they’ve even met him). Because my picker was broken for so long, I think my family has lowered their standards of who they expect me to bring home. So, when I started talking about Mr. T, I was amused at how enthusiastically everyone responded to him. I was constantly hearing things like, “He sounds like such a nice guy, I like him already” and “I can just tell by looking at his smile (via Facebook stalk, of course) that he’s a good person”. Maybe they’re just eager to marry me off, but I think this says something about my recent upgrade in taste. He’s already impressed people over a thousand miles away.

He never calls you crazy. Ya’ll know I have my issues, and I assure you I can certainly seem crazy at times. BUT, what the fuck is up with guys calling girls crazy when they get emotional? I am an emotional person, and I speak my mind when I’m pissed off/sad/upset or whatever. This has led many an ex-boyfriend to call me crazy. Not cool. Emotions are a part of life, and definitely part of a relationship.

A good pick will accept you, no matter how you express (or don’t express) those emotions (unless it involve throwing things, then the guy may have a point. funny story there, but I digress). A good pick will also listen to you when you tell them about your issues and won’t make you feel like you should be committed.

He has his own things, that he does sober – at least occasionally. In my past two failed relationships, the only hobby my bf’s at the time had was getting drunk. I like to booze, and I like it a lot, but it should never be your only past time. A person who has at least one non-work, non-school passion that they regularly partake in without the influence of alcohol tends to be many things:

Less likely to cheat.

Less likely to treat you like shit.

Less likely to wind up in jail, with you having to fork over bail money.

I could go on, but you get the point. A guy with passions is a good pick.

You have your together things, that neither of you are faking. I have done the whole changing myself to like whatever my boyfriend likes thing a couple times. Sometimes, I even learned to like the thing I was pretending to like. But that’s stupid. And once you’re older than… 18, you have no excuse to be that big of a pushover. A good pick will have several shared interests with you, and you will be able to enjoy those things together with even more enjoyment than you did before.

On a related note, even if your pick doesn’t share an interest in something you love – he’ll still let you love it without mocking it or taking you away from it. You have to have your own things and together things to make it work.

He doesn’t run from your non-negotiables. Mine is that I don’t want kids, may never want kids, and don’t want to be pressured into having kids. I have to put it out there up front, because it’s my non-negotiable. If a guy can’t accept that part of me, then they’re not a good pick. Non-negotiables are… not negotiable. So don’t negotiate.

He doesn’t like Dave Matthews Band. Oh wait, how did that get in there?

How’s your picker?

How much do you hate me for this post?

Incoming search terms:

• patti stanger picker video

Warning, the first: This is a really long restaurant recap. I know people skim over these most of the time, but when you have the meal that I’m about to write about, you have to ramble on about it for 2000+ words. Sorry.

Warning, the second: Not vegetarian friendly.

As a person who is literally obsessed with food and eating it, I have had many a wonderful dining experience.

I’ve eaten at fancy places with creative culinary concoctions, world-famous eateries known for their foods, food trucks, wine dinners, beer dinners, cooking demonstrations – you name it and chances are that I’ve done it.

I am more likely to spend money I don’t have on food than any other thing, even shoes.

So, when Mr. T asked me if I’d rather go shopping for my Christmas/birthday gift (his was a hotel room in Vegas) or go to the #1 restaurant in D.C. (as rated by the Washingtonian this year and several previous) you can go ahead and guess what I chose.

Last Saturday night, I got to cash in my gift at Komi in Dupont Circle.

Komi is located in a rowhouse in a discreet part of D.C. that is hard to find if you’re not looking for it. They specialize in extremely innovative cuisine, offering a 12+ course pre fixe dinner.

The standout hospitality of Komi started as soon as we walked in the door. Our coats were taken, we were seated immediately, and Kat Bangs – the adorable sommelier in a chic vintage dress I coveted all night long – arrived promptly to assist us with our drink orders.

We decided to go with a Greek viognier, after receiving complimentary tastes to ensure we liked it. I picked this wine on my own, and later learned that the restaurant liked it so much they bought out the vineyard. This, of course, means I’m a wine expert now. It was reasonably priced, around $40 and was light enough to go with the first several courses we were served.

The reason I’ve had to wait so long to write this review is that I’ve been waiting for the list of dishes we ate to arrive in the mail. There were so many, and they were all so unique and exquisite, that I couldn’t remember everything properly.

Pictures are not allowed at Komi, but even if they had been, I wouldn’t have taken any. Mr. T and I were in a lovers/foodie paradise and had the most incredible time tasting, talking and drinking that I wasn’t thinking of anything that was going on outside the perimeter of our table, specifically beyond what was going on in my mouth.

Komi seems to want to keep their flavors a surprise for newcomers, so even the list they sent isn’t very descriptive. I can understand why they do this, because as hard as I’m going to try to tell you how amazing the food was I know I will do it no justice.

I’m not even going to wait until the end of this to tell you that if you ever have a chance to eat at Komi, do it. Even if it means eating ramen for the next two weeks. It’s that special.

The way Komi works, is that they bring you several small, light dishes at first – featuring mostly raw fish, building up to the main course, and then going back to small dishes with several desserts. It is not for the faint of heart. You have to be willing to try new things, and eat past the point of uncomfortable satiety to prevail.

Okay, so here’s the breakdown of our dishes:

Salt Cod Puffs – When we were presented with the description of these, I began to worry that I had perhaps gotten in over my head. I like seafood, but I’m not an adventurous seafood eater. However, knowing what the meal was going to cost and that I’d probably never have better salt cod puffs in my life, I threw it down the hatch. This is when the love affair began. I can’t even explain the flavors, but they were just powerful enough as to ignite my taste buds to prepare me for the rest of the meal. I was intrigued.

Madai: So this was some sort of fish jelly, and sadly, the only dish of the night I didn’t like. Throughout the course of explaining the dish to us, I missed the part warning me that it was jellied fish and only heard things about honeycrisp apples and other lovely things, so I was a bit surprised by the taste. Mr. T ate my portion and seemed to enjoy it.

Scallop: This scallop was served sashimi style, meaning raw. I’m sure it was “cooked” in acid or something, but I really couldn’t tell you. It was pounded thin to where it almost looked like a sheet of paper. I was dubious, especially after the fish jelly, but again resolved to try all the things. I say this a lot, but I assure you this was the best bite of food I’ve ever eaten in my entire life. Ever. Mr. T said that he always hated the phrase “orgasm in my mouth” (as do I) but that there was no other way to describe this scallop. And, he was right.

Sea urchin: This was served alongside the scallop, and because I was so enamored with its predecessor, this one kind of got overshadowed. I just remember being impressed with myself for eating sea urchin. Urchin isn’t a very appealing word.

Shrimp/Pear: At the beginning of the meal, I was asked if I had any dietary restrictions or if there were any foods I didn’t want to eat. I mentioned that I don’t care for shrimp, so while Mr. T was served a shrimp dish I was given a pear creation instead. At the table behind us, a patron had requested an all vegetarian dinner, and I was impressed that they were able to accommodate. I’m sure the pear dish I was served was part of the vegetarian menu, and it was very good. The flavors combined to taste like barbecue sauce, which doesn’t sound as good as it was. Mr. T said his shrimp was almost as good as the scallop, but I didn’t believe him, only because I hate shrimp.

Trout Roe: So, I like fish eggs. A lot. This is something I never would have tried, ever ever, unless in this environment – but I’m so glad I did. I believe it was actually served with raw tuna, with the roe on top. It tasted like bacon. I don’t even like bacon. So yeah, nothing about me liking this makes sense – but that’s just how good Komi is.

Spanikopita Bites: Little warm puffs of spinach and cheese pastry lightly breaded and fried(?) to perfection. My former vegetarian/more normal food loving side really appreciated this one.

Vitello: I must have been wrong when I mentioned the tuna earlier, because I’m pretty sure it was in this dish which was a carpaccio type creation with both tuna and veal. I rarely eat veal, but I did it here, and it was good.

Foie Gras: While we were getting pre-dinner drinks, I asked Mr. T what he thought would be the weirdest thing we’d eat that night. I said I was pretty certain we’d have foie gras, which has always been a fear food of mine. Duck liver just doesn’t sound delicious, regardless of how much it costs. And here it was, but just saying foie gras is insufficient. This was actually a deconstructed gyro, with the foie gras, lamb, and other components I can’t recall that, when eaten all at once, tasted exactly like a gyro. So good.

Half Smoke: A hot dog! Okay, not really, a smoked sausage. One of the awesome things about Komi was that as soon as you thought you were adjusting to one kind of flavor experience or weird food mixture, they’d surprise you with something completely different. The half smoke was perfectly cooked, served on a crusty bun and topped with cabbage. It was a way more delicious version of something you’d find at any football tailgate, and made me feel comfortable and nostalgic.

Mascarpone Stuffed Salted Dates: Do I really have to convince you guys that these were drop dead amazing? No? Well, I will anyway. There are two kinds of people when it comes to dates – those who are obsessed with them (mostly health bloggers, I would say) and those who have never heard of them. That’s kind of a lie, because I don’t fall into either of those categories, but I still think I have a point. Anyways, I knew they were good and kind of like them a lot and Mr. T had never heard of them. We both talked about them for at least three days afterward. The waiter said they were to cleanse our palette and prepare us for the upcoming main course, but they really just made me want 50 more just like them. The dates seemed to have been boiled or baked to soften them, then rolled in sea salt and stuffed with glorious mascarpone. Second to the scallop mentioned above, this was the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.

Gnocchi: I’m typically pretty picky when it comes to gnocchi. It’s usually either too crumbly, or too gummy, or too mushy. It’s hard to get it right. This was a potato gnocchi with rabbit ragout and it was a standout. We were starting to get a little tipsy on the wine at this point, but still stopped to marvel at how good the rabbit (sorry vegetarians!) tasted. I’ve only had rabbit once before on a charcuterie plate at Lyon Hall and it was awful. Like, I gag just thinking about it awful. But this was amazing. If I wouldn’t have known it was rabbit, I couldn’t have told you as much.

Katsikaki: THE MAIN EVENT. Roasted goat shoulder served on the bone, with pita, meyer lemon sea salt, charred onion relish, pickled peppers, tzaziki, and beet salad. Goat shoulder is my new favorite meat. I’ll probably never eat it again (where can you find goat shoulder?) but it was so succulent and tender, a lot like brisket, but better. And all the accoutrements were just outstanding – particularly the peppers and the beet salad. If you put it all atop a pita it made a fabulous sandwich. As lovey dovey as Mr. T and I were during this meal (nothing spurs great conversation like awesome food and wine), I wanted to stab his hand with my fork and eat this all for myself. I couldn’t, because I was too full and he was paying, but I wanted to.

Butterscotch Pudding: Then came the desserts, served with a complimentary dessert wine that escapes my memory. I was so full at this point that my level of enjoyment went down a notch. I’m also not a huge dessert person. However, the butterscotch pudding was terrific. I am sure there was some fanciness added to it, but that escapes me as well.

Date Cake: The date cake was topped with a Greek yogurt gelato. Mr. T liked the cake,  but not the gelato. I liked the gelato, but not the cake. This wasn’t our favorite, but still good.

Peanut Butter Caramel Truffle: Beyond good. I had a nibble and took the other half home because it was too good to give to Mr. T.

Beeswax Milk Chocolate: Same as above.

Cardamom Truffles: These were my birthday gift from the restaurant, and I saved them for later, but they were wonderful. Just the right amount of spice from the cardamom to make them interesting, without going so far as to be unpalatable.

Salted Pineapple Lollipop: These are given at the end of the meal to take home. Such a cute way to top off the evening.

From the first dish to the lollipop, we received the best service I can recall ever receiving. The wait staff was incredibly knowledgeable and enthusiastic about the food (we got different servers for most of the dishes), our water glasses and our wine glasses were always full and we just felt incredibly welcome and at home at Komi.

Wow, that was even longer than I thought. Some things just cannot be said quickly.

In summary, this was the best meal of my life. Do whatever you can to eat here.

Would you have tried all of these dishes? I always thought I would never try foie gras, but it was a much better experience than I had anticipated.

Incoming search terms:

• komi dc review

I am not a doctor person.

I go to the doctor if I have a crazy high fever and feel like I’m seriously going to die (read: Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever) or if I think I’m contagious (so I can get better and go back to work and pay the bills without infecting people).

I get my yearly exam and pap and go to the dentist twice a year. Vagina health is important, and not taking care of your teeth leads to terrible things – so I suck it up and do those.

Other than that, I don’t go to the doctor. I think our bodies are pretty miraculous things and do a great job of fighting illness on their own if we just treat them well.

So, it took a LOT to get me to an allergist on Saturday.

The past two years I’ve struggled increasingly with sinus and allergy trouble, and after having had a headache for the past two weeks straight, I gave in.

It was a process. A long process with many needles and a little camera worm that went in my face.

I had a headache the whole time and there were a million other things I would have preferred to do with my Saturday morning, but the doctor is highly reputed and seemed to know what he was talking about.

Apparently I’m quite allergic to most grass and trees, and suffer from a triple dose of headache goodness – tension headaches, sinus headaches and migraines.

My right septum is also deviated, but not enough to warrant surgery, which is awesome news because there’s no way I would have gotten the surgery anyways.

He sent me off with a homework assignment to get blood work done to make sure my immune system is okay (haven’t decided if I’ll actually do this) and list of medicines that is supposed to make all my woes be gone.

I also have to go back in a month to get food allergy testing done (another possible headache contributor as well as the supposed cause behind some skin issues I’ve been having) and they’re trying to talk me into the allergy shots, which isn’t happening – not only because I hate needles but also because I think they’re bullshit.

I’m honestly torn over the experience. I don’t know if I even believe in the process.

I mean, just because my arm blew up to the size of a boa constrictor when they did the allergy testing doesn’t necessarily answer the question of how my body actually responds to those allergens, does it?

Breathing them in is different from having them pricked into my body with a needle, right?

I have been following the treatment for two days now, and can’t say I feel much better yet. I still have popping in my ears and a hatred-inducing headache as I type this, but maybe it will just take awhile for my body to respond.

I am definitely to a point where my allergies are interfering with my day-to-day life and I want to get better, so I’m going to keep trying, but I’m wondering if my efforts are futile. Perhaps this is just my lot in life?

Anyways, not much point in all that, but a lot of you had expressed concern and interest in my allergy situation (really, I’m not making that up) so I thought I’d give an update. Nothing like reading about my medical happenings on a Monday morning. You’re so very welcome.

Do you have allergies? How do you deal with them?

Are you a doctor lover or doctor avoider?

I’m actually not bored today, but you guys seem to like these posts and I’m in a discombobulated state of mind, so it works out. To be clear, the more accurate statement would be “Things I say when my mind is f*cked” but… that has a less classy ring to it.

I am highly thankful and happy about the outpouring of birthday comments and such I received yesterday. You never feel more popular than on your birthday. Thanks guys!

Also, I didn’t mean that being 26 was a lame age so much as a lame birthday. There’s just no wow factor to the celebration – you don’t even get a break in your insurance. That’s what I meant. Being 26 is rad, and I’m excited about my 26th year. Last year was the best one I’ve had so far, so I think great things are yet to come.

I went to bed last night a million times happier than I went to bed on my 25th birthday. It goes to show how much can happen in a year, and that sucky stuff isn’t permanent.

The Ides of March was a fine film. Mighty fine. I can see why it’s got the Oscar buzz going. It did a good job of combining a lot of recent political events we’ve dealt with as a country and showing the inevitable f*cked upness that is politics while still making you think. And the dudes were hot. I also got to drink beer – Star Hill Amber to be precise – which was cool.

I had to be downtown at the Department of State this morning and it was a hell storm. I didn’t ingest coffee or food until noon and I spent the morning showing my ID to 50 people and trying to get on a list I should have been on from the start. It was stupid, but whatever. I like downtown DC and it was a change of pace, so it could have been worse.

I’m already looking for new apartments, for when I move in May. One could argue that I need to live in the present a bit more.

I’ve found a lot of amazing options, and because I’m probably going to be sharing the apartment with another, I’m going to pay significantly less money. This is exciting! I won’t be dead broke anymore! Perhaps I will pay off some credit cards. Or buy ten new pairs of boots. Only four of which would be on credit. It could go either way, but no matter what it will kick ass.

Speaking of kick ass, I made a kick ass chickpea soup the other night. I just bought the starter kit at Trader Joe’s (chopped onions, shallots, and garlic) and sauteed that with two cans of (rinsed, drained) chickpeas doused in all the Indian-ish spices (curry, garam masala, turmeric, cayenne just because I put cayenne in all my food, and maybe some others I can’t recall right now) in my cabinet and then simmered them with two cups of vegetable broth and two cans of fire roasted tomatoes. It was better than I thought it was going to be – spicy and comforting.

I got beautiful lilies from the SIL and brother and tulips from Mr. T for my birthday and they make work feel so much less sucky. I love them, and now want flowers on my desk at all times.

I made an appointment with an allergist to get my situation under control. I have had sinus headaches non-stop for the past month and Leah even suggested that my allergies could have to do with my exacerbated sleep issues of late. I’m not peeing my pants with excitement over having hundreds of allergens forced upon my body at once to determine what ails me, but I do have a little pants pee over the fact that I may not feel like shit all the time anymore. Pain begets pleasure.

My head is seriously not right today. I’m off my game. I skipped my workout, didn’t eat breakfast, don’t really know what’s going on and now I’m just… dropping eff bombs and using the word sucky way too much so I’m just going to go.

Today, I turned 26.

What a lame age, am I right?

I tried to make it less lame last night by cooking a nice meal with Mr. T.

We used this recipe and it was easy and the result was great. I picked it because I knew Mr. T liked breaded chicken and I thought it looked pretty and wanted to see if I could match the presentation. I fancy myself quite the presenter. Even if I do then take a photo of the final product with my iPhone.

For dessert, we had store bought red velvet cookies and a cardamom truffle left over from our amazing dinner Saturday (that review is forthcoming, but requires me to wait on a piece of mail).

I also had half a bottle of Chianti, which paired well with the Italian-esque dinner and the truffle.

Then I went to bed at 9 p.m. – proving that, like the age of 26, I am quite lame.

Today I awoke, on my day of birth, and went to the gym at 5:30 a.m. Again, lame.

I did that so I could eat Greek food for lunch and see the Ides of March and drink beer tonight.

Because even if seeing a movie on your birthday is lame, drinking while you’re doing it is pretty fun. AND there are some highly attractive specimens in the movie. So… it’s my birthday and I’ll be lame if I want to.

Another place I got to try out this weekend was the ever-hyped Graffiato.

I’ve been talking about this place on the blog since before it opened, as has the rest of the DC media.

The reviews have been mixed, from both friends and professional sources, but I was still pumped to check out Mike Isabella’s restaurant.

We went for Restaurant Week lunch on Saturday, and the place was packed before the dining room even opened.

We were seated promptly at noon and our waiter was incredibly attentive. He also reminded me of Peter Sarsgaard, which was kind of fun.

He reminded us that Graffiato is known for its small plates, that sharing was encouraged, and that the Jersey Shore pizza (fried calamari on top of pizza) would be bigger and the best bargain.

As much as we wanted to give that guy a whirl (the pizza, not the waiter), we decided to stick to smaller offerings so we could try more things and not ruin our appetites for dinner later that night.

Instead, we started with the warmed herb flatbread with pepperoni sauce, which was one of Mike’s famous dishes on Top Chef if I’m not mistaken. This was not on the RW menu, but at $5 was a reasonable add-on.

It was a solid appetizer, and the sauce did indeed taste like liquid pepperoni (in an appetizing manner) – but it was nothing to write home about.

For our first courses, we got the Buffalo mozzarella with pickled onions and the crispy Brussels sprouts with pancetta, maple and egg.

The cheese was wonderful, a perfect 3 oz. portion great for sharing. You can’t go wrong with cheese, ever.

The Brussels sprouts were also delicious, even though I still contend that my recipe is better.

They were roasted to crispy perfection and served over a maple mayo concoction that was definitely very good. It reminded me a lot of the patatas bravas dish that Jaleo is famous for – good aoli/mayo will always win me over.

Around this time, I caved an ordered an alcoholic beverage. It was the “special afternoon punch” or something like that and was a mix of vodkas mixed with fresh mandarin orange juice – or something like that.

They mixed each drink separately and with fresh squeezed juice at the bar, and you could tell. Very tasty. I only had one. It was noon. I’m not that much of a lush.

As I was sipping that, our entrees arrived. Mr. T and I had different experiences with the main course. I got the hand cut spaghetti with olive oil poached cherry tomatoes and basil and it was fantastic.

It was, to be fair, still just spaghetti – but spaghetti done very well. The pasta was cooked to perfect al dente and the tomatoes had just the right amount of firmness and flavor. As a pasta lover, I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

Mr T., on the other hand, had ordered the pumpkin risotto but was given the lobster risotto instead. We both agreed this was a fair trade, so he kept it instead of sending it back for his original order.

This may have been a mistake. The risotto was pretty terrible. The rice was way undercooked and the lobster was very fishy and pungent and overpowered the dish. He didn’t seem to find as much disdain in it as I did, but neither one of us were impressed.

Just as we started to feed into the negative things we’ve heard about Graffiato (namely the inconsistency of the dishes – you never know what you’re going to get), dessert arrived at the table.

There were only two dessert options, so we got one of each.

There was a warm pistachio cake with candied pear and parsnip caramel and honey mascarpone gelato. Overall it was okay. I appreciated the innovative flavor combination, but didn’t really find that it worked. There was an overwhelming rosemary essence, which just isn’t something I enjoy in a dessert.

The other was a chocolate tart with olive oil, pine nuts and sea salt gelato, which was better but still not a standout. The sea salt gelato was fabulous (they have this at Kushi too, and it’s a must order anytime you see it – trust me. Oh and there’s a Living Social out for Kushi right now! No one paid me to say that, I just get excited when things link up like that.) but the chocolate tart was far too rich for my taste. I had the teeniest of bites and then moved on… to birthday ice cream.

They brought me a separate scoop of what tasted like peanut butter ice cream with a birthday candle, which was just cute and nice and very delicious, and boosted my mood thus ending the meal on a happy note.

Overall, I was very happy with the experience. I have plans to go back and sit at the bar and order the Jersey Shore – or perhaps to try the Chef’s Tasting menu offered for $55. After my wallet and stomach recovers from all this eating out I’ve been doing, that is.

Have you been to any Top Chef restaurants? I really want to try out Spike Mendelson’s DC places. He seems really cool and involved in the community, which I dig.

So I mentioned that I ate a lot this past weekend, and it is true. I went to town. It was Restaurant Week in DC as well as the weekend before my birthday so before I knew it I had back to back to back reservations at places that have been on my To-Eat list for quite awhile.

No complaints here.

Friday night, we went to Ceiba for a Restaurant Week dinner with a couple of friends and had a great time.

I’ve been to Ceiba once before for their late night happy hour (from 10 to 12 p.m. – bar food is half price as well as $5-ish cocktails and such) and really enjoyed the food and the atmosphere, so we made a point to go back and see what the dinner experience was like.

As per Restaurant Week rules, we each had an appetizer, an entree and a dessert. I also had four pints of Estrella, but that’s neither here nor there.

I started out with the Cuban black bean soup, which was phenomenal. The soup featured a ham and goat cheese croquette and crumbled goat cheese nestled underneath the warm blanket of velvety black bean soup. I could have had this as my meal and been as happy as a clam. If I ever go back for dinner, that is what I plan to do – along with my beers, of course.

For my main course, I had the lobster enchiladas, which were sadly just okay. I wanted to order the butternut squash tamales, they sounded fabulous, but got talked into the enchiladas because it was more bang for my buck (2.5 lobster tails per dish) and the waiter was hating on my vegetarian selection. Next time, I’m sticking to my guns. The lobster was a little chewy and the dish was overall too seafood-y for me.

Even though I didn’t love the enchiladas, I still cleaned my plate, so I wasn’t at all hungry for dessert. This was sad because it was to be my first time trying flan. The gelatinous dessert was, however, very good. The texture would probably creep me out in larger quantities, but because I just had a bite, I enjoyed it thoroughly. I would recommend it over the churros, which I also sampled and by which I was not impressed.

I think I’ll probably stick to the late night approach to dining at Ceiba, the bar menu is both innovative and affordable, but I was glad we tried the dinner. And for $35.12 for three courses, it was definitely worth it.

Out of towners should note that Ceiba is quite close to the White House, so you should do some site seeing if you’re in the area. I also recommend heading over to Old Ebbit Grill for an after dinner drink and crab dip (the best crab dip of your life) or oysters if you’re into that sort of thing.

Do you like flan? It seems to be one of those love it or hate it kind of things.