My Buttermilk Biscuit Tastes Better Than Yours

Today I went to brunch at Dizzy's in Park Slope. I got the steak and eggs. In spite of the economic downturn, the place was steamy and packed. I ate at the counter all the way on the end by the cooks and the place the waiters pick up orders. I think I want to always eat in that spot. The head chef was very friendly to me. I finally accepted A-1 sauce from him to please him and allow his helpfulness. He said I was welcome to come to Dizzy's to eat anytime. In addition to the steak and eggs, I had homefries, homemade toast, a sliver of buttermilk pie, a grapefruit juice and coffee. Later I ate a chocolate crossaint, some lamb biryani, a mango lassi, a bowl of green tea yogurt ice-cream with chocolate chips, a bit of ginger biscotti and a buttermilk biscuit. I will eat more later.

Right now I'm in my friend's bedroom. He only wants to hang out there and it's fun, but a bit bleak. He reminds of those dissipated young gentlemen of the 19th century who have gambled away their inheritance. They are handsome and charismatic, but generally washed up from alcohol and other bad habits. Also, they are usually living beneath their means and borrowing money from the well-off relatives. In this case, he's from Pakistan and went to Brown. His fancy sisters married well, so sometimes they give him pin money to fritter away. New York is so diverse and wonderful.