You’re absolutely right, and believe it or not in my first draft I had included a “Tiffany.”
Before submitting, though, I decided to invoke poetic license and give ‘em all the sort of names I’d want voluptuous naked Italian girls who come softly and silently to me in the dark dark night to be sportin’.
{quote]But are you a Beer Store girl with tan skin and skimpy shorts?
[/quote]
Anything for one of our boys in blue. 
Lessee, I’ve got the Daisy Dukes; how 'bout if I hold a couple cold ones in my hands? That work? Good. I’ll expect you at the ChiDope. 
Usually, folks are pretty loud about it…you know how NYers hate to hide their light under a bushel…as when Magdalene came to town about two weeks ago (I couldn’t make that one, myself).
Just to make sure you don’t miss it, I’ll make a point of e-mailing you next time.
Ike, sent your post to a buddy of mine who lives over on Schenectedy (sp?). He called me up laughing. Said he hasn’t been to the kielbasa joint, but grew up on 8th and has been goign to the liquor store you describe since he was 5 yrs old. And, yes, he corroborated your assessment of the employees.
Slight hijack, read the new Dortmunder? I think I liked the books better before I knew he looked like Martin Lawrence. Glad they featured Tiny - I get a kick out of him.
Stuyguy came out with us, and it was great to meet him. I’ll be back in town around Labor Day, so maybe I’ll get to hang with y’all again.
Uke wrote:
“Just to make sure you don’t miss it, I’ll make a point of e-mailing you next time.”
Thanks Uke! I take back all my accusations from the subway map thread that you’re really a woman.
Although […stuyguy rubs chin and ponders…], what better way to throw me off the scent than to start a beard-thread about craving hot, sexy Italian beer store girls? Hmmm. Methinks he lusteth too much!
Ahhh… The beer store girl. Ever since I was a 15-year-old lad, the memory of the beer store girl has resided in a distant corner of my mind, coming forth to occupy my thoughts whenever someone asks me whether I harbor regrets about “the one that got away.”
My beer store girl was named Pam. She worked at the beer distributor in the sleepy Long Island town in which I grew up. Pam was three years older than me, so she knew I was underage whenever I tried to buy cases of Budweiser with a fake ID. Yet, she always smiled at me, winked a knowing wink and let me get by without a hassle. Pam was an absolute knockout, although she often looked somewhat cheap in cutoffs and midriff-baring T-shirts with plunging necklines. Yet, no one in town had a bad thing to say about her. She was one of those girls with that rare combination of good looks and incredible friendliness and compassion. She never turned up her nose, although she could have. I shoulda married that girl.
BTW, I will be very upset if the Brooklyn beer store isn’t on our list of stops for the next NYC DopeFest.
Anything for one of our boys in blue.
Lessee, I’ve got the Daisy Dukes; how 'bout if I hold a couple cold ones in my hands? That work? Good. I’ll expect you at the ChiDope. **
[/QUOTE]
Only if your name is really Gina, Sofia, or Francesca. Or maybe Debbi or Tiffani. . .
Tripler
I could care less. Short skimpy shorts and beer? Why don’t you hop into my car. . .
So, uh… how YOU doin?
Glad to oblige.
I knew a St. Pauli Girl. Personally. No, really.
Well, I think I did.
See, it was like this: I knew a lady in Philadelphia – in the days before I managed to escape the event horizon of my home town – who claimed to have been a St. Pauli Girl, or to have modeled for the label, or for one version of the label, or something.
It was not beyond the outer limits of plausibility. Doree was a healthy blonde girl with the natural glow of health and sturdiness we associate with milkmaids, farm damsels and, of course Femmes Au Saint-Pauli. I could easily envision Doree clutching a pair of beer steins to her well-appointed bosom, a smile of pure, fresh, Teutonic welcome on her well-scrubbed face.
On the other hand, she coulda been lyin out the other side o’ her Ivory Girl smile? What do I know? I thought ERASERHEAD needed a laugh track, so you can’t go by me.