The Bruni Digest

In which I sit on a dirt mound somewhere in Brooklyn with my ears pricked, waiting for New York Times head restaurant critic Frank Bruni, who I imagine to be a Venetian count in a huge ruffled collar, to dole out stars from the inside breast pocket of his brocaded chamber robe. This blog is predicated on the suggestion that every Wednesday, in the Times Dining Out section, Frank lays a huge faberge egg of hilarity.

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Location: New York, New York, U.S. Outlying Islands

I am fiscally irresponsible, which means I have weak bones and a dorsal fin. And a penchant for dining out, even though I am, in the words of many rich people, a "poor people". I make a different face when speaking each of the foreign languages in which I am shittily proficient.

Wednesday, June 08, 2005

Falai: The Week Jules' Panties flew at Half-Mast

I know what you're thinking: "Is Jules literally cold and dead in the ground?" and "I hope a stranger took pity and paid for her burial, maybe even a reception, some Cap'n Crunch, some Diet Dew, a track or two of Indigo Girls from her 1982 Aiwa cassette player...Something to send her off with the dignity she so eschewed in life..." But no, I'm not dead although I definitely flatlined a couple of times at a delightful wedding where I didn't know anybody.

Makin' friends.

So, for one week, even though Frank's extended metaphor of Iacopo's "marzipan shackles" made my vestigial fang tremble, I didn't bite.

However, in future, even if I am incredibly busy, or hard at work, I promise to keep nipping at Frank's heels like the immature virtual Terrier I am.

"Hey Frank! You forgot your bra! LOOK! A bra!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! I love to sniff poop! Because I'm stupid! YAY!!!!"

Yumcha to follow...


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yay! I thought you'd been cease-and-desisted!

4:45 PM, June 08, 2005  
Blogger Jules said...

HA! HAHA! Why would I be cease and de-- [gulp]


4:58 PM, June 08, 2005  

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