Classy Ladies

So for my (month ago) birthday, I went to see Les Mis in Chicago and eat at Carnivale, a fancy restaurant with music that made me, Sister and mommy feel like we were in a Sims game because it was basically repeating generic Latin music that had the power to control Father Time. I knew we looked pretty classy. My sister broke out the shoes that weren’t tennis shoes, and I wore hoop earrings. They were three dollars so one of them fell out of my ear and I was a pirate for the rest of the night. Damn it hurts to be fancy.

Anywhoos, Carnivale was nice. It was really tall-ceilinged and we actually had a reservation. There were colours and stuff. You really knew we were classy because we couldn’t read anything on the menu since it was in Spanish. Especially my mom.




Sister on the other hand was all ‘oh I can roll my R’s sort of so I take priority of awesome in this place’.

We ended up ordering these fried banana things with sugar and cilantro and also these starchy root things called ‘yucca’ which tasted like uncooked potatoes. Mommy nodded serenely when eating these, saying “you can’t cook like this Rachael this is legendary”.

And I was all like





and then I sneezed really loudly and the people next to us were all like ‘you’re getting all up in my fancy business’ and also the waitress gossiped about us.
Besides that though, we went to see Les Mis. Every time I watch or listen to that show, I am in awe. Like real people can’t feel that much emotion, not even on Glee. It’s like Victor Hugo sucked all the nationalism out of everyone everywhere, gave it +230000 LOVE POINTS, and then sent Spock on a journey to collect every super-expressive artistwomansoul to make into a Musical of New Standards For Emotion.














Yeah. It was so beautiful and I got so into it that the people behind me were all like “you’re going to have to move please”. So WHAT IF I’VE GOT PASSION VIVA LA FRANCE or whatever