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March 11, 2007
"At catered parties," Carl says, "I always wind up in the kitchen with the help, rather than with the guests. Pretentious fuckers. Shirts, ties. Dresses. Sipping sparkling water from stemmed glasses. And there I am, in the kitchen with the help, drinking tap water in a jelly glass. My shirt's all, like this" -- he pulls the tails of his button-down out from his pants -- "and my tie's undone. Y'know?"

Yeah, I know. And you eat the crusts of the bread the help has cut off the sandwiches. And speak your high-school Spanish to the help. What a guy.