We're on a roll with this cat theme today. And Li'l Pete's got something to share...
I don’t know if you know this but my editor can get kinda cranky. Remember how she screamed at me for taking photos of her friends? Minding that, I sent her these surefire cheerer-upper picturegraphs I’d just taken of a pussycat. I was snapping away when a pigeon went a coo-coo’ing in the wrong direction...
I went to Bensonhurst to talk to Eye-talians about the Mafia. I was worried I was going to get whacked if I accidently asked the wrong wise guy about this Brooklyn neighborhood’s famous brand of organized-crime. I got off at the 20th Avenue stop on the N-line. Here, according to an MTA employee stationed behind bulletproof glass, is Bensonhurst-proper. Bensonhurst is so far away from North Brooklyn it took me three tries to not only snag this exclusive interview with a real “American-Italian” but to even find the dang place.
Let me express my delight in having met Juan Carlos I (imagine being the I'st, just like Hank Williams), a mere 50 feet from my stoop in Bushwick. Juan said he didn't want his face photographed, and he just barely let us snap a shot of his dinner. He agreed to talk to me only if we kept walking. Well, guess what? We talked so much we ended up in Queens! From the safe distance of the county line, Juan, in a very gentle, didactic manner, let me know exactly how much I don't know. Here's what I learned on my field trip in my own neighborhood.
Howdy! I've been sending all these "naive" pitches to one of the Viceland blog editors and she keeps shooting them down. Apparently I'm "extroverted and well-intentioned yet oblivious to the extent of, well, my naivete." WTF? I went drinking with my girlfriend and one of her girlfriends (Now, let me clarify that the second girlfriend mention is in the platonic, gal pal sense). We went to some place called the Trophy Bar. There we washed back whiskey shots with Bud heavies (that's what we call 'em in Iowa) and took pictures of ourselves.
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