Last night, Marie and I were celebrating with some cheap wine and what is becoming our favorite happy hour haunt. Marie excuses herself to use the ladies, and I take the opportunity to do some people watching (we were sitting outside because it wasn’t 100 degrees with 99 percent humidity and like all good Philadelphians we took advantage of it).
Zack Morris time out: I love brash, 20-something waitresses. They remind me of myself in my glorious youth. Time in.
|A Harry Winston, not necessarily|
the ring the friend copied.