The only thing more annoying than Christians saying they’re all persecuted and shit is breeders acting like just because they can’t take their damn kid wherever the hell they want then they’re being oppressed. Whatever. I’m not allowed to run around a restaurant screaming and throwing shit, and your kid shouldn’t be allowed to do it either.
Some people who have been rich and privileged their entire lives, Luke and Julie Janklow, have opened a restaurant in the West Village with the most annoying name ever, Sweetiepies. Wait, I change my mind. The name isn’t as annoying as the concept. It’s a place where you can eat really, really expensive food with your little monsters.
Here’s an excerpt from a completely useless, fluffy article about the restaurant in the NY Observer, which almost made me barf all over myself.
Mr. and Mrs. Janklow soon concluded there was no cool restaurant in the West Village where you could bring your kid, even their beloved Waverly Inn. In particular, Mrs. Janklow had in mind the places her parents used to take her growing up in Beverly Hills. The sophisticated yet pedestrian, slightly theatrical restaurants, which are unique to Hollywood and function not only as an extension of the industry but also a local haunt where a kid can delight in the glinty surroundings and a grilled cheese and Mommy can feel glamorous sipping vodka.
“I realized that there was no place to go for Easter or Mother’s Day or just for a day out; there was no place to go with my son,” she said, between puffs of a cigarette on a recent afternoon in the back room of Sweetiepie, where a mural of Mrs. Janklow’s own design festoons the wall. A Star Wars storm trooper here; a zebra on the hood of a hot rod there. Mrs. Janklow had her dark hair parted Joan Baez–style, and wore all black, a black faux fur coat on top. “It just got me thinking that when I was a kid, growing up in Beverly Hills we had those places—and they weren’t places like kids’ restaurants, they were just places that were theatrical because back then most of the restaurants were done by set designers. So you’d go to the Luau and you were in a Polynesian village, not some cheesy low-budget place—it was actually done by the real deal. Or you would go to Trader Vic’s or Chasen’s and it was glamorous. And as a kid you went into this sophisticated setting that was also childlike.”
I’m not sure, but these might be the two lamest paragraphs ever written. It is just so hard for ridiculously rich people to take their perfectly fantastic glamorous children with them everywhere they go. Waah, waah.
Also, who the fuck sips vodka? Everybody knows vodka is for TAKING SHOTS. I mean, if I had a kid with me at a fancy restaurant I wouldn’t just sip the vodka, I’d be guzzling it.