Journal



#1,921 Stanley.

A couple years ago Ben and I took a spontaneous trip down to New Orleans for his birthday, and we had brunch at Stanley on Jackson Square. It was so delicious—I’ve been craving it ever since, so this morning(ish), I convinced the group to walk down to Quarter and endure the 1.5 hour wait so I could try it again.

 

 

 

And it was worth every minute we had to wait.

 

Aaaaaaand Gwyneth Paltrow was eating a few tables away then she and her boyfriend got up to leave, all but bumping into Jim trying to get past him, but I was the ONLY person at our table who saw her. And I was whispering furiously because she was still in earshot: “THAT’S GWYNETH PALTROW! GWYNETH PALTROOOOW!!!!!!!” but none of these goobers understood what I was saying until she was standing outside the window.

I will tell people everyday for the rest of my life that I am close, warm, personal friends with crazy ole Gwyneth Paltrow.

But seriously, I thought she didn’t eat anything but raw, wet almonds. What the heck was she doing up in Stanley? #baconfat #cheese