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This afternoon's unanticipated horror: "Gumbolaya Soup". (To make things worse, the ad for the restaurant offering it was underlaid with a grayscale map of Italy.)
You know, I don't think many of you having been asking yourselves the question "What have I done today to entertain Da's brother?" (Note that this isn't a judgment, just an observation.)
P.S.:
bunj, you'll find this amusing. When I explained to Mom yesterday how to get to Wicker Park, she asked, "Where is Ukrainian Village? Is it anywhere near where your brother lives?" I explained it was just south of Wicker Park and nowhere near your neighbourhood. She said that when a coworker "who knows Chicago very well" had found out she was going up to visit her sons, she asked where we were. Upon hearing you live in Portage Park, she told Mom it was right next to Ukrainian Village. (Note to furriners: Mom's coworker was a little off. Like six miles and at least three neighbourhoods, as the crow flies.)
You know, I don't think many of you having been asking yourselves the question "What have I done today to entertain Da's brother?" (Note that this isn't a judgment, just an observation.)
P.S.:
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Isn't Gumbolaya near Lourdes?
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