Last night, Marcus and I went to Toons. Toons is a restaurant at Serramonte, and Marcus was convinced it'd be good blog fodder. Indeed it is. I arrived to find some street youth being hauled away by the authorities, which, you know, is always a good sign. The interior of Toons looks like a color-blond child molester designed it. The most striking and terrifying feature in the restaurant are the brightly painted sconces, made up of two little children lifting glowing orbes to the ceiling. We were seated by the very eager Joseph, who encompassed every quality of my old pal, John He, at the Mezz Lounge in Shanghai, although Joseph was wearing a t-shirt proudly declaring, "I need a TOON up!"
Over grilled cheese and fish sticks, we discussed the fine line between inappropriate and offensive, until suddenly Joseph appeared with ice cream and a huge drum filled with stuffed animals. He began banging on said drum and busted into a broken English rendition of "Happy Birthday" which appeared to be directed at me. Apparently arranged prior to my arrival, I now celebrate August 24th as one of my birthdays. Really, it's only fair, as I can honestly say I'm reborn after having survived the dining experience that is Toons.