I don’t usually paint my nails when they are this short. My sloppy self-manicure makes me feel like an unsuccessful child prostitute.
At dinner last night, I watched a very large man eat bread. Dissatisfied with the supplied accompaniments of hummus and pâté, he and his partner asked for butter and oil.
After several consuming several topped with oil, he spread a scoop of pâté–after testing the suspect ingredient with one huge finger–on another slice and then applied a liberal amount of butter on top.
I expected him to drop dead at the table.