Was sitting in the Tribecca Grill, waiting for my grandparents to arrive for our semi monthly booze and binge date and a chance eavesdrop reminded me of something:
People who refer to wine as, “vino” should be beaten to death with a log of some sort of exclusive goat cheese normally only found holding down their coffee table during one of their so-boring-it-they-cause-cancer dinner parties.
I say holding down because if the table wasnt being held down it would run out the door the first chance it got. NPR listening parties, pretending to have some higher understanding of art and the plight of the common man, these atmospheric qualities will drive a good coffee table mad.
Ugh, die in a fire.