The conversation behind me was composed mostly of 'eh' and 'ay', what with both of them being stoned out of their gourds, as well as drunk. Not a great combination of circumstance, but they made the most of it.
At one point, the more English-speaking of the two remarked that the waiter had one blue eye and one grey. Which, when he came with their burgers, they pointed out to him.
No, he didn't know what they meant. This one has pepper Jack and bacon, this one is blue cheese.
"Eh. Eh. Eh. Ay. Eh. Eh. Ay ..... "
"Eh? Hey! Ah? Ehhh ... "
The problem with the modern era is that pipe smokers have to sit outside with the pot heads, and, bluntly put, I hate the smell of Mary J.
You're all disgusting, and it ain't therapeutic.
[No, marijuana is NOT grown by little green men in the rainforest who hug trees, save the dolphins, and recycle! What have you been smoking, idiot?!?]
Sometimes the smell of weed is overpowering in this neighborhood, and the use of that repulsive substance cuts across all classes and income levels.
"Eh. Eh? Eh! Eh. Ay. Eh. Ah. Eh."
Other than when "the most dangerous man in Chinatown" is at the karaoke place, you never smell that in the Chinese area. But he's American born, so that isn't too surprising.
I've become a frightful puritan in my old age.
I now despise all illicit substances.
Frightful perverts!
Eh?
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