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Bitches and Bags

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omg. story time.

So, it was a beautiful Sunday afternoon in New York. A cool breeze snaking through the streets, flecks of golden sunlight bouncing off the freaking buildings, etc. Even my bangs were behaving. A picturesque day, you following?

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My friends and I decided this day was so cute, in fact, that we’d treat ourselves to an early evening moment at Cafe Lalo on the Upper West Side. You know, the cafe where Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan had that cute-ass moment in You’ve Got Mail. IDK what we were thinking either.

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Three Belgian waffles later, Charlotte, Samantha, Miranda and I were convinced that this was the perfect summer day in the perfect summer city.

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As we collected our things to leave, Samantha Sarah spilled her glass of water on the floor. Great.

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There was a woman sitting closely behind Sarah because, of course, every picturesque cafe in New York fucking City insists we sit ass-to-ass with strangers. Sarah apologized because she’s a polite girl… but the woman just glared.

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After cleaning the floor with napkins, Sarah picked herself back up and apologized again. Big mistake, girl. I’m pretty sure this city has a one-apology limit.

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That’s when the Wicked Witch of the Upper West churned her head around to declare, “It’s JUST my CHLOÉ BAG…” before turning back around to wipe invisible liquid from her invisibly-damaged purse. A few drops of water on a patent leather CHLOÉ BAG?!

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GOD FORBID!!!!!!!!

We left Cafe Lalo and talked shit about her for the rest of the entire day like the 20-something bitches we are. A classic New York minute.

And on that note:

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