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not a utensil in sight


Woke up this morning craving Ethiopian food, all because last night's dinner was just so damn good. A group of us (sans costume, by the way -- I still regret not wearing a wig at least) went to Club Waziema for gigantic helpings of Injera heaping with various "sauces" -- lentil, split-pea, mushroom, vegetable -- a lamb stew and a chicken dish, plus sides of collard greens and salad. And two pitchers of beer. Un-freaking-believable. And the bill was just $71 for five people.

Funny -- I can't tell you how many times I've driven by Club Waziema. I'd always wondered about it but never thought about stopping in. The place looks kind of silly from the outside -- neon signs advertising Ethiopian food and a nightclub at the same time. Seemed a strange mix to me.

But the truth is -- and man, I love surprises -- the place is an absolute gem. Walls covered in gorgeous vintage wallpaper -- yes, it's actually velvety to the touch! Romantic lighting. A past that boasts amazing live shows from Billie Holiday to Ike and Tina. Can't believe it's taken me two-and-a-half years to check this place out!

I was so freaking happy that I ate my whole meal with my hands and didn't flinch one bit.

Which means either (a) food conquers all or (b) the Prozac is working.

Maybe I should go with all of the above.

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