Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.

(photo via the lovely and talented Pace)

I went out for my birthday Monday night with some friends. We started with dinner at Mai's. Who should sit down at the table next to ours but THE FUCKING COP WHO GAVE ME A TICKET LAST WEEK. I swear to God. How many officers are there in the Houston Police Department? And how many restaurants in town? This wasn't even the neighborhood where we had our little exchange. Whatever. I didn't start any shit with her because I wanted to get to bingo. [N.B. -- NEVER do a Google Image search for "female cop." Just don't.]

Bingo is the Monday night attraction at The Continental Club, along with the sublime El Orbits. Fabulous prizes included a nectarine and a Slim Jim. We had a WTF moment at the bar when I tried to order a Pimm's Cup (for Cayce); the bartender mumbled something about prostitution, and then tried to sell me some cigarettes. Hurricanes were another no-go, so I settled on a Greyhound ... which he made with gin. Goddammit.

Fortunately, the El Orbits were in fine form. I could have stayed to listen to them all night. Still, the best part of the evening was probably the red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting made by Letitia. Sadly, they were not miniature armadillos, but rather traditional cupcakes. Back to the kitchen with you, L, until you perfect that gray icing.