As if lip locking with a British rose seller didn't raise enough street corner skepticism, I seemed to have glossed over the incident with the non-Italian busboy at NYC’s Little Italy’s, De Gennaro. (By the way, is it still open, Erin Leigh Schmoyer? And did I get the name right? De Gennaro? San Gennaro? In any case, thanks for introducing me to all the fun.)
Said place has/had great food and apparently, phenomenal wine. It must be true because the bus-boy-turned-tour-guide, led me by the hand to the kitchen where I was entranced by vats of pasta and could try the meat-ah-balls! But naturally, next thing you know, I'm making out with him. Did it happen in the kitchen or by the dessert case? It all gets fuzzy...
Pull it together, Caroline. Have a cannoli instead. What was my deal?
Answer: College and Chianti.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
He thought I pulled a Winona
A few years ago I visited a good friend in San Diego (I’ll be a bridesmaid in her wedding next summer, what what!) and we stopped at a beach shop that sold, to no surprise, bathing suits, towels, etc. The figure running the place at the time was a 15-year-old freckle face kid. My friend and I had stopped in so I could use the shop’s dressing room to change into my bathing suit. (I forget why I wasn’t wearing it in the first place. Fail.) When I asked the 15-year-old freckle face kid if changing was OK, he muttered, “Yeah, no problem,” as if I were a turd.
A mere 10 seconds later I was wildly accused of shoplifting. Or more accurately, “jacking some shit.”
Here’s the exchange that followed my exit of the dressing room.
“Um I know you just jacked some shit.” – Punkass Mutant
“Excuse me?” - Me
“Dude, just empty your bag and hand over whatever you just jacked.” – Punkass Mutant
“Jacked?” - Me
(Prepubescent sigh of the century) “Stole! Fuckin’ jacked! I’ll like, call the police.” – Punkass Mutant
“Um, I asked you if I could change into my bathing suit. And you said, “No problem.” - Me
“Whatever. I still think you were trying to jack some shit.” – Punkass Mutant
I then emptied my bag to show the little jack-shit, jack-off, jerk-off that I indeed, “jacked” nothing.
A mere 10 seconds later I was wildly accused of shoplifting. Or more accurately, “jacking some shit.”
Here’s the exchange that followed my exit of the dressing room.
“Um I know you just jacked some shit.” – Punkass Mutant
“Excuse me?” - Me
“Dude, just empty your bag and hand over whatever you just jacked.” – Punkass Mutant
“Jacked?” - Me
(Prepubescent sigh of the century) “Stole! Fuckin’ jacked! I’ll like, call the police.” – Punkass Mutant
“Um, I asked you if I could change into my bathing suit. And you said, “No problem.” - Me
“Whatever. I still think you were trying to jack some shit.” – Punkass Mutant
I then emptied my bag to show the little jack-shit, jack-off, jerk-off that I indeed, “jacked” nothing.
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