It is dimly lit, sparsely decorated and packed to the gills with fast-speaking South Americans who, conversely, probably wouldn't deem themselves worldly if they ate our fare- Ben's Deli and what have you.
Most entrees have indecipherable names and contain squid ink as source of flavor.
My father and I begin to give up on the alien menus.
So, naturally the conversation turns to "Who's a bigger pussy?"
Me: You're definitely the bigger pussy.
Dad: You think so, but in fact, I believe you are.
Me: Elaborate.
Dad: Well, you talk a lot more shit, but in reality, you're not a confrontative person. So when you put yourself in that position, you begin to freak out because you know deep down you don't wanna be in that position to fight. I know it's not in my nature to fight, so I never put myself in that position.
Me:...................What about doggy style, what about that position?
Dad: *takes a sip of wine* Well, I never have problem with that position.
*We high five*
Mom: What?
Fin!
