Really.
The pear martinis tasted like spa water. After two of them--despite the half eggplant caprese sandwich you ate-- you thought it was a good idea to shop for eyeglasses on Newbury Street? Haven't you ever trimmed your bangs after a couple glasses of wine? Yeah, you have. You even blogged about it. Ass.
As soon as that handsome, oh-so-hip and equally gay young man started calling you Miss Joanne while pulling frames off the shelves and trying them on you, looking at you as a photog might look at a fashion model, you should have known to leave.
At the least, you should have asked "how much" before handing him your progressive bifocal prescription and credit card. Because asking him to drop the ten dollar shipping charge after he shared the total is not a great victory.
So, Miss Joanne, you better hope they look as fabulous on you as your fabulous optician, the intoxication of being in Boston on a beautiful sunny June day, and the pear martinis led you to believe.
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| My view of the Back Bay and the Charles from my room |
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