Being Made I was sitting in my car waiting and watching the front door. The summer sun in Florida kept my black car at a constant oven ready-to-bake temperature. The parking lot had no trees or shade to hide from the scorch. It was lunch time and I was in the only car in an oversized parking lot for Cafe Romano’s. I found it strange that there was this supposedly tremendous Italian restaurant in down town Fort Lauderdale that I never heard of. I took pride in knowing all of the Italian spots. Runway 84, Mateo’s, Casa D’Anelgo’s, Frank & Dino’s. I even knew the shitty ones. Somehow, I missed this one. Frankie told me to meet him at 12 sharp at Romano’s. When I said that I never heard of it, he said, “What? Youz don’t know Romano’s, you fuck’en kid’en me, Romano’s! Youz ain’t heard of it? Deah ain’t nuttin betta in all Flarida kid.” He sounded exactly like Joe Pesci in Goodfellas ; exactly. But I never told him that. He said, “it’s right deah, as Sunrise Bou-li-vard ma
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Chins I recently noticed that my under chin is a little saggy. It looks like I have a bit of a pelican pouch hanging there. How the fuck did that happen? If I pull it up to the side with my thumb, it disappears, but I can’t walk around like that all the time. Sometimes, when necessary, I can lean on my hand and secretly pull the extra skin up with my thumb. I only use this when I want to impress someone, who probably isn’t looking at me anyway. This “thinker pose” only feels natural when I'm sitting. I tried to do it walking around; holding one hand to my chin as if I was just casually walking and really thinking hard. I studied the look in the the bathroom mirror and realized it was off, way off. But it looked ok when I used my other arm as a support for the elbow. The “walking thinker” I call it. I figure I can walk around as if I’m studying a building’s architecture or I’m pondering Middle East peace or how did Trump win the election. How often can I really do this?