Early brunch with jazz and a few friends. “I would never get breast implants.” She says, “Are you crazy? You lose all sensitivity in your nipples...” “Jesus. Jazz, do you have to use that word? Its not even noon yet. You don't say nipples before noon. Please. I haven't even had coffee....”

At this French restaurant. I say thank you, sometimes gracias, because as is customary in Miami, only South Americans who speak only Spanish work at French restaurants, or Irish bars, or English pubs, etc etc... jazz corrects me, its ‘merci beaucoup.’ “Yes I know. but why go down that path? Its too early in the morning.” “What path? We’re at a French restaurant. The least you could do is say thank you in French....” “Yeah and then what? Then he starts speaking to me in French. he’ll say, ‘oh you speak French,’ and I'll say in French ‘no, only a little, I'm studying it now...’ and that will be that. so I'm still the stupid fucking tourist in my own hometown. And I'll feel like an idiot for saying merci beaucoup in the first place. I mean lets face it, as much we hate being a tourist in any country, with French I can’t remember more than twenty words. so the least I can do is not feel like tourist in my own fucking hometown... can you pass the sugar?”