5/31: I'll buy it for a qwartah

Today we spent moving ever southward in Manhattan. We began in SoHo, starting with a steak and eggs brunch at the Moondance Diner. Forget what they do in Friends (Monica worked there for a while). There is no singing and dancing waitstaff. The ceilings are low, and there are no mini-jukeboxes at the tables. Oh yeah, do not do what the dolts at the next table did: tell the waitress you're ready to order, then just stare at the menus for the next five minutes. She exasperatedly threw up her hands and walked away. I'm surprised she even waited a minute.

A couple of blocks down, we hit the schlock of tourist trap markets on Canal Street, where you can buy almost anything for cheap. Among them, DVDs, electronics, books, and clothing. But Lisa's target: knockoff purses. Not just ones that look like designer brands. We're talking about the fakes that have the actual designer labels. We're talking labels that say "Prada", not "Prado" or "Panda". It's amusing to watch out of town women, including my wife, go through these places like a whirlwind. At one place, she got good deals on purses, with prices knocked down sometimes over 25% off the original asking price. Of course, "just for you, it's yours for ten dollah". There wasn't a log of haggling. George Costanza would have been disappointed.