A few weeks ago we came up with this thing called Indian Fridays where a 4 or 5 of us actually leave the office for a real lunch instead of the usual cramming Subway down our pie holes at our desks. Most of the kids craved Indian food, so Indian Fridays began. Our third Indian Friday at Baluchi's on Warren Street was today.
It was also our last.
When do Indian Fridays turn into Mexican Fridays?
When a cockroach crawls out of the naan.
Indian Fridays was a fast and furious blip on the screen for sure, but high on excitement and weirdness, including a disturbing obsession our waitress (who reminded us of a poor man's Selma Hayek) had for:
2) Telling us how hot she was 40 lbs ago when she looked even more like Selma Hayek.
***Spoiler Alert: The roach dies in the end, splattered beneath Betty's boot under the table. ***
Chubby Selma Hayek: It wasn't in the bread. It was in the basket. Not the bread. The basket.
Mexican Fridays here we come.