Somewhere along the way, lobster became the symbol of gustatory luxury. You picture your stereotypical Person Of Means sitting down to a feast—me, I always picture olde-tymey plutocrats in top hats and tails, monocled, even the women and babies, because my experience of society's upper class begins and ends on the side of a jar of peanuts—and they are picking daintily at steaming red lobsters plated artfully atop beds of garnish greens, as stoic manservants bustle hither and yon with, oh, decanters of wine or goblets of molten gold or some shit, look, it's not the most detailed fantasy ever, OK? Anyway there are lots of lobsters in it, and in yours, too, or just humor me for a second, for chrissakes.
An old trope it may be, it is still a truth. Sometimes during and after menstration one can smell fishy. Being a water sign, it never worried me.
There was amazingly more than one vegetarian choice, a foreign, scarcely-heard-of concept in the area at the time, and so it took me forever to decide, but I finally went with the pumpkin polenta. It was a fine choice. When we came home, we wound up going to bed embarrassingly early, like ten.
Eating lobster is a messy, labor-intensive, grotesque affair, one that involves the dismantling of exoskeleton in order to consume its scant meat. And oh—have we mentioned these Mesozoic-era monsters are frightening as fuck? The topic of lobster came up during a discussion amongst The Takeout staff recently.
He had a reputation for violence, such as killing mobsters and burning his trademark lobster claw symbol into their foreheads. In modern times, the general public believes the Lobster popularly known as "Lobster Johnson" is only a fictional character created by a retired detective turned pulp author. A few conspiracy theorists correctly believe the Lobster was real, though he was never referred to as "Lobster Johnson" in his own time.
So I was not a fan of The Lobster. And I get avant-garde, I love weird and different approaches to movie making. I really did think that The Lobster would be a slam dunk for me.
Two weeks ago, a longtime reader challenged me to create a new sexual neologism. This delighted me for two reasons. First, lobster is fucking delicious and getting extra lobster with your lobster is fucking awesome.
This place was once an elegant place to enjoy an evening with family. I am sorry to say, the food and the restaurant has declined. I had planned to enjoy the evening with a couple of friends at Red Lobster.