In true cougar mode, I exited the 1 train at 116th St Columbia University trying to blend; rockin' an Adidas track suit and a ponytail hoping to grasp the attention of Ivy Leaguers half my age just to prove I've still got it. With divorce pending and a recent discovery of my 1st gray hair in the middle of pole dance class, I needed some type of validation. I was simultaneously PMSing and craving comfort food.
If the tangy-sweet aroma of smack-yo-mama barbecue were a pheromone, Blue Smoke and I would undoubtedly share an instant chemical attraction that would lead to a passionate love affair. It wasn’t bad looking either for a casual, down-home, suck your fingers, wet nap required dining.
