eat

I ate sushi at Katana in Royal Oak last night. Katana used to be a very trendy spot—almost pickup joint—with beautiful people and even more beautiful waitresses. Granted, I have not eaten there in six months and things seemed to have changed. At first I thought I was in a Sopranos episode. Every table save mine seemed to be populated by enormous, neckless Italian men with gold chains, striped shirts and ill-fitting jeans. Accompanying each brutish fellow was an over made-up woman with, shall we say, junk in the trunk? None of this was particularly interesting to me until Lizz…