|I would like to thank Mariah Carey for teaching me, and the rest of the world, how to pose.|
The graduation dinner was magical.
We were greeted by a dining room lined with enormous gilded mirrors and glistening chandeliers.
We had silver platters for our Pellegrino and butter in the shape of roses for our warm bread.
I was wide-eyed and constantly taking mental pictures of my surroundings because you shouldn't take real food shots in a place like that.
(Okay, I snuck in a few. Good riddance, class!)
|Red shoes. Sigh. Another pretty package.|
What can I say?
I'm a sucker for marketing and pretty packages.
I was also a sucker for brie and asparagus bisque with a goat cheese croquette floating in the center.
Don't get me started on the mashed potatoes topped with roasted potatoes, or the chocolate bombe with three sauces and two decadent sides for dessert.
Or the cucumber citrus sorbet given to 'cleanse the palette' in between courses.
One might say, "Excess is horrible!"
I was silently peeing my pants the entire time.
At the end of the evening, Mr. Branflake opened my car door and helped me inside.
Once got in the driver's seat, he handed me a velvet box secured with a satin ribbon.
"For helping me these last four years; I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you,"
he said as I was greeted by a diamond heart shaped necklace glittering under the streetlights around.
And yes, there just happened to be fireworks going off over head.
Pretty packages rock my socks.