I said to BF, "I'm OK, you're OK, let's start a corral." He said, "What?" I said, "You know, like the OK Corral." A beat and he said, "That's stupid."
Last Sunday I went to a Greek Festival. I had to go, being Greek. I had to represent. I ran from one booth to the next, buying Loukamathes, Baklava, Dolmathes, Kadaifi and Gyros until my belly went bust. And then we walked home. And I tried not to vomit.
I'm only Greek for the festivals. And then there's my name -- dead giveaway -- and the dark hair, big feet, big nose, and facial hair. I don't speak it or write it or dance it. I'm faux-Greek with a German finish. And it suits me fine.
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