Around six-thirty, I was coasting down US Route 1, still dressed for the office (high heels, skirt, one of my precious few dress shirts gradually soaking with sweat) and thinking more about a problem from work than about traffic (bad). My brakes are emitting this embarrassing eeeerkkeeerrrkkkeeeeeeeeeeee. A car pulls up next to me, a little man
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But yeah, I could see a resemblance for you...
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The other day I was asking for directions in Jerusalem, and when we had some problem in Arabic I heard the one dude say to the other, "Talk to him in French, so he'll understand better." Then we had to continue in my broken French, because I was too embarassed to let these guys know I was American.
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