Sunday brunch in the West Village


This past Sunday, I went to brunch with my crappy mother and her crappy boyfriend. Both refused to give me a bite of their eggs. No one offered to buy me a mimosa, so I just stared at Mom's for a good half hour. It didn't seem very receptive to telepathy.
So, to pass the time, I started people watching, which is usually OK in the village, but it today I only saw tourists & teenage NYU girls in Ug boots. (Ug boots? It's still summer! Even I know that!)
Many stopped to admire my flawless table manners and extraordinary beauty, but again, no one fed me anything, not even a rock. God, do I love rocks. Shit.

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