Last night, Roxi joined me for a festive evening of watching the season premiere of America's Next Top Model, snacking on delicious snacks, and drinking Champagne in a can.
As the hour grew late and the hostess grew tipsy, Roxi decide a trip home in a taxi would be in order. She called later to recount her conversation with the driver, recreated here via email:
Cabbie: Where did you come from?
Me: I ran from over there. [pointing to your house]
Cabbie: You came from out of nowhere. Like a hooker.
Me: I'm not a hooker.
Cabbie: But it was like a hooker. Coming out of nowhere.
Me: I'm not a hooker. [laughing]
Cabbie: You are laughing a lot. Are you drunk?
Me: No, I'm not drunk. [laughing]
Cabbie: You had nothing to drink?
Me: Okay, I had two drinks. But I'm not really drunk.
Cabbie: Did you smoke hashish, too?
Me: No.
Cabbie: Are you sure?
Me: Pretty sure.
Oh, our Roxi. A giggling, hashish-smoking, drunken hooker, for sure.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment