Bloody Fucking Mary, Indeed.

Besides, "I'm going to be a beautiful ballerina," the second most common phrase out of my mouth is, "Is there chicken stock / any meat in it?" Well, most of the time.

I didn't think to ask that about my Sunday brunch bloody mary at Jefferson Avenue Bistro, partly because I don't think to ask if there's meat in my beverages, and partly because I had called ahead to see if they served bloody marys AND if they had vegetarian menu options AND the person who assured me "yes" to both on the phone remembered me upon arrival AND took my order for a "veggie omelet and a bloody mary - hold the Lee & Perrins". . .

I should have asked.


"Bloody" mary has a whole new meaning in my world, these days. Bloody hell.