The night was fairly uneventful. I think it was Game 2 of the Eastern Conference Finals. Someone let Pat into the building. In addition to letting him in, the man followed up with the question, "Where are you delivering from?" The appropriate response should have been, "Chinatown, motherfucker!." But I guess he did open the door for Pat. Also, talking in your head sometimes works as well as talking aloud. Then I had an education on pronouncing Thai words. This might sound really racist in two minutes, but too bad. I don't give a fuck on this blog any more. I picked up some pork belly larb at Zabb Elee (in the East Village) for take-out, and had this conversation with Ming.
Me: Oh I got some larb [i pronounced it like lard, but with a 'b' at the end]. Ming: What's that? Me: It's from...