Ganache and Papparazzi

If you read my previous post, you are well aware the Jackson family chose to have their post-interment dinner at the restaurant next door to Le Cordon Bleu's West Campus location. As such, the entrance to school was blocked off with 10 foot high black sheets to provide the family a mediocre bit of privacy as they entered through the back of the restaurant. Didn't really bother us much; their staff and security couldn't have been more polite.

However, after four hours of cupcakes, ganache, and creme brulee we staggered out under the weight of our equipment, books, and diabetes-inducing concoctions, only to have to face the paparazzi trying to sneak through the back way. While we all muttered under our breath words like "vulture," "fucking hell," and "idiots," one was heading straight my way, not even looking where he was going. I therefore took it upon myself to continue on my straight-and-narrow path, with the full knowledge that my bag full of knives, spoons, a rolling pin, and various other accessories would far outmatch his delicate camera bag. I was celebrated by the rest of my class after shouldering him out of the way, and figured I had done my good deed for the evening. My only regret is the camera was around his neck, and he didn't drop it during the collision. I'm sure he picked that tip up during douchebag training.