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.

Monday, February 20, 2006


Of course not. If you were looking for something to do, you'd be at Time Out New York's site, not mine. But on the offchance that you have no idea how to use the internet and you want to see me do standup tonight, come to Rififi at 8:00 for At Night With Gabe and Jenny.

Unlike many slaves, the show is free! So let's all get together and oppose slavery by watching me perform. Thanks guys.

"If it weren't for Jules human rights activism, well, actually Jules is useless. But damned if her tits aren't buoyant and serene!"


Blogger Tom Philpott said...

Just wanted to drop in to applaud your work, and add an interesting tidbit about the Count's new blog.

The thing already groans with brilliant Bruni-isms. If you try to catch up, you may never emerge from your keyboard. One post-- so gaseous I couldn't refrain from commenting. The Count, it seems, deigned to visit Hooter's, evidently to oggle the ladies. He sneaks into the 21st century long enough to be titillated by the definition of "ho": " 'I’m a door whore,' she said, decoding the abbreviation she had used. 'A hostess. She’s a waitress.' Ah! Do’ who’!" Ah, indeed. He ends thusly: "The waitresses were chatty, smiley, helpful, self-deprecating, candid and funny. They may wear skimpy attire, but they have big hearts."

Thus had the Count discovered, like a Victorian perv prowling London's underworld, a trove of hookers with hearts of gold.

In my comment, I cheered his deft use of this trope and speculated that Jules over at Bruni Digest might "have some fun with this one."

The comment went live, and within 24 hours had vanished. This is the sort of thing he lets stay: "Absolutely love your writing style, comment about waitresses from the land of ‘Seventh Seal’ and ‘Persona’. You really captured the place and were fair. I don’t patronize Hooters, but it’s nice to see a truthful, humorous review. And yes, it’s good to get away from the stuffy every now and then. Thanks for a great blog. I’m really enjoying reading this."

2:55 PM, February 21, 2006  
Blogger Jules said...

Obvie! Those comments are pruned like an English garden.

6:47 PM, February 21, 2006  
Blogger Justin Kreutzmann said...

sorry I missed it, but 3,000 miles is a bit of a drive.

when is you west coast tour?

11:16 AM, February 22, 2006  

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