It's just one of those things. They're almost synonymous, Woody Allen and NYC. I've taken a liking to his work and I suppose that cements my stature as a New Yorker. What's next? Walking behind my Teacup Yorkie, named Periwinkle (like the color), with a plastic bag in hand begging to pick up a steaming, heaping, massive pile of feces?
Do yourself a favor and read Without Feathers. Much like the author, it's short, peculiar, witty, sarcastic, and humorous.
Showing posts with label Woody Allen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Woody Allen. Show all posts
Friday, July 31, 2009
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