A few years back, I was having dinner at Nobu Next Door. Mind you, I’m not a fan of foo foo restaurants – I prefer a home-cooked meal or the ambience of a super cool retro diner with a waitress of a certain age chewing gum and calling you “honey. But since a friend wanted to go badly, I went.
So there I was at that over-rated Nobu Next Door and seated at a nearby table is an overweight obnoxious guy in his 40s (which seemed so old at the time since I was still in my 30s) and he was with two badly plastic faced aging models.
At the top of his lungs, he kept bragging about “MY HOME IN THE HAMPTONS!”
He must have referred to his “home in the Hamptons” at least six times during the course of his meal. (And mind you, I’ve been to the Hamptons too — no great shakes).
Anyone who has been to Nobu Next Door knows how tight the place is. When I got up to go to the bathroom, I accidentally knocked over my bottle of sake. The Hamptons guy stops bragging about his home in the Hamptons and says to me, “You are very entertaining.”
I looked him right in the eye and said, “Then you must have a very boring life!”
He didn’t know what to say.