Flirtatious: "You cloud my vision, you blow me away, and that's no snow job!"
Real Mood: Frightened
Prediction: My Color Pencil work will never exhibit at the Louvre.
I'm frightened because Bonnie was on CNN again this morning. Not just on, but dressed with yet another advancement downward in the neckline. I have employed Peggy to be my back up fashion critic from her perch in California. These are Peggy's words.
"She has on a slinky, low cut dress. She is clearly pulling her shoulders back."
I don't know what that means until I try it myself. Whoa! How can I have lived this many years and not known some women do that on purpose?
Anyway, to add my own observation, I think Bonnie's outfit can easily do duty as a cocktail dress. I make note of the thin necklace, holding a perpendicular appendage that gravity is pulling downward. That appendage is holding widely spaced pearls, the bottom one of which is dipping right into the decollatage. Is this trend going to continue? Scary.
I mean tommorrow is Sunday. Little boys will be getting up early to get dressed for church, or mosque, or synagogue or the park. They'll want to know what the weather is doing so they'll know how to dress. If they turn to Bonnie for help we could see male morality and productivity take major dives. If it were my kid I wouldn't take the chance. Just let him sleep in. (okay, guys just send your checks to Paul, at......)
So I pay the bills today, not one of my favorite things to do. There is always, I mean always, a surprise. This time I have in front of me a completed form for a subcription to Architectural Digest. Maybe she told me. I know she likes to build things. Hmmm? I think she'd be really good at it. Maybe I'll write her life story and call it, let's see, how about "FoutainHeadDress." Okay, I'll write the check.
The only nice thing about having Peggy out of town is I get to eat fish. She hates it, won't have it in the house, won't go into a restaurant that may smell of it. If fish ever gets labeled an illegal substance I'm going to rent Peggy out to sniff out all the stashes. We'll be rich.
Anyway I decide to try out the new sushi place in town. It is cute. Silent movies playing on the wall, the sushi bar, the incredibly beautiful hostess, the overly trained wait people standing around not so inconspicously, ready to pounce on you if you so much as straighten your fork.
"Ep Oo Suh?" (translation: Help You Sir?)
She's probably a Liberal Arts major from Vassar who majored in fake Japanese-English gibberish..
"Nope. Just bring me the regular sushi plate. Don't want to make any decisions."
Now I've got a problem. It's worse than the airlines. Not only are there no knives, there are likewise no forks or spoons. Oh, My! Chop sticks. One look at my big fat hands and you'd understand my Oh, My! And my lack of capableness in this matter is heightened by the fact my regular sushi plate comes with a salad, and soup.
I very early on had the sticks cross over on me, sending a piece of lettuce flying across the dining room. Luckily it landed on no one's face.
Her reflexes are uncanny. The wait person jumps out from behind the pilar whilst the lettuce is still in the air.
" Ep Suh?" (translation: May I help you, you clumsy American man.)
"Nah, just a little rusty."
I am thinking about asking for a fork, but quickly notice no one else in the place is using one.
The food is good. The ginger is a funny color, but tasty.
"Mo Betah 'is kuhluh." (translation: this color is much better tasting.)
Well, the food is good. I over do the wasaba on one sauce mix.
"Wa uh suh?" (Water sir, or should I say dumb American man?)
Well I can identify almost everything I eat. Almost everything is delicious. Almost excludes the last piece I'm able to balance on my chop sticks. It has little bumps on it. When it gets into my mouth it gets rubbery. It's so rubbery and distasteful I just stop chewing and swallow it. There is a terribly uncomfortable grimace on my face.
"Ah Ah Puh, Suh." (translation: Octopus idiot American man.)
You know I really don't like raw octopus.
I want to order desert but remember why Japanese tend to carry around less body fat that the rest of us. I'm pretty sure I know what she'd say.
"No duh suht suh." (translation: You incredibly unsophisticated American dimwit. You don't come to a sushi bar and ask for desert.)
I opted for just asking for the check. I pay the price, in so many ways, and start heading towards the door. The gorgeous hostess pops a smile that could swallow a whale.
"Ank ooo suh mu suh. Ple Kuhm Gihn." (translation: Thank you so much sir. Please come again.)
"Yeah, I'll be back. But next time hold the Ah Ah Puh"
I have this image in my head of my Ah Ah Puh flying through the air and landing right in the middle of Bonnie's decollatage. Do you think I need professional help?
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