So, I'm working the communal table, the long-ass table that suits parties over seven, and this group of Italians stroll on in. I am not ethnocentric, but for the love of Caviezel, these fucking Italians didn't speak a Goddamn lick of English. Thirteen of them. And by this point, I'm used to the foreigners, pointing, asking questions in broken
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a friend of mine just told me about how she was cheered by david schwimmer when she was sent out in a theatre to kill a cockroach in front of him. she had no idea who he was and ran after it like a mad woman as he cheered her on.
:)
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that is incredible. put amusing images in my head, of you yelling at italians, haha..
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Armani? Please!
His "designs" are the epitome of mediocrity! (scarf toss)
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