fschmidt wrote:
French
This one brings back an embarrassing memory
At Princeton a few of us were invited by a charming young socialite to an exclusive jet set party in New York. The lobby of the apartment building was empty except for one polite guard (weating a blazer you know) who smoothly escorted us to an elevator.
The elevator opened right inside the girl's apartment. (I still wonder how that works.)
Massive speakers were playing disco music in a giant room with polished wood floor, devoid of furnishings. In the middle of the room a famed Japanese designer (I think it was Kenzo), ponytail and all, was dancing --- all by himself.
I was Clem Caddiddelhopper, just rolled off the turnip truck. Not quite sure how to "blend". I sidled up to the buffet. Didn't recognize a single thing on there.... until... Saw this cheese, an entire wheel of it, uncut. "Ah" I thought. "A cheesecake!" I eagerly cut myself a nice wide slice. I love cheesecake. Plate and fork in hand, I opened a conversation with someone. Listening intently, I took a large bite....

"Well actually, she's not REALLY my daughter. But she does like to call me Daddy... at certain moments..."