Tonight, Dane and I went to Lincoln Center's Midsummer Night Swing, for the Charanga Soleil Cuban Salsa night. I got quite excited and even broke out my Michael Kors Leg Shine with the gold flecks in it, at my desk at work. Unfortunately, all of the guys at the event were beyond creepy — let me paint a picture of a man wearing a sarong, a safari hat, white sweat socks and carrying an Apple store bag, and who was like 72 years old. OR the man with the waxed blond mustache wearing a bandana like a pirate? He also must have been at least 70 years old. Either way, we decided to leave halfway through and get dinner — and we ended up at the Brooklyn Diner on 57th Street.
Dana had the 15" hot dog (home made sauerkraut! and frizzled onion rings!), and I had the pulled chicken sandwich. Plus, we both had a diet root beer. Its not called the finer diner for nothing.
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