Tonight we go to that guidebook favorite Giggetto in the Roman Jewish Ghetto, currently a ghetto of wealth. Ken is very dependent on Zagat wherever we go. I tend to resist, feeling that if a place is too popular with our countrymen, it's probably not as good as hyped and more expensive than it has a right to be. We opened the West, true, but we have tended to stick to the main highways ever since.
I hope to get back to NYC in time to meet up with Cevola, Marco and Parzen tomorrow night. I shall need drugs to stay awake. If I do go, you can be sure I'll be wearing me shades and a jacket slung over me shoulders. I'll air kiss everybody and call everyone carissimo.
The real me at last.
Alll of this trivial stuff is an illustrative prelude to my true purpose, Amanda. This post is like Twitter, all that annoying Twitter clutter that pops up on your screen at odd times, and NEVER of anything important or even interesting.
I know many in blogdom have been singing the praises of Twitter, going so far as to hail it the next marvelous breakthrough in viral communication or something.
It's a virus all right. Consider me cured of it.
I hereby officially unTwitter myself. Be a reasonable, mature person and do likewise. Please.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
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