That's Barb!
Yoo-lay-lee-ah, accent on second syllable.
You're welcome, Bock-catch-ee-oh (I think!)Thank you.
Is there a chicken Boccaccio on the menu?You're welcome, Bock-catch-ee-oh (I think!)
You're welcome, Bock-catch-ee-oh (I think!)
So people are using fake names around here? Next you'll tell me that isn't your picture and that I don't look like Brad Pitt and Barb doesn't look like Little Caprice or the babe at the bottom of all her posts and Wragg isn't really a sorcerer.It's not my real name, of course, but that of the 14th century author of the sometimes racy stories in the "Decameron." I'm not Italian, so I could be wrong, but I believe the pronunciation is 'boh-KOTCH-ee-oh'
Have an Eccles cake, Windar...So people are using fake names around here? Next you'll tell me that isn't your picture and that I don't look like Brad Pitt and Barb doesn't look like Little Caprice or the babe at the bottom of all her posts and Wragg isn't really a sorcerer.
Is there a chicken Boccaccio on the menu?
So people are using fake names around here?
Actually, Hicksville is on Long Island and is not a hick town and is loaded with Italian-Americans.I've never heard of that dish. Googling "chicken boccaccio" I got only 18 hits, most of which emanated from a menu item at a restaurant in Hicksville, NY, which is probably not exactly a mecca for lovers of Italian cuisine.
If there *were* a 'chicken boccaccio' I would hope it would be a pair of nicely shaped breasts, carefully positioned alongside each other in such a way that one's eye is inexorably drawn to the inviting gap between them. After being prodded gently with knife and fork, they should melt in one's mouth.
Chef Giovanni
Actually, Hicksville is on Long Island and is not a hick town and is loaded with Italian-Americans.
I thought that was my line. Never mind, you wrote it.Have an Eccles cake, Windar...
I thought that was my line. Never mind, you wrote it.
Sorry Windar. I've been bit distracted the last couple of days. I finally got to the end of your story. Should have expected a rescue, I suppose.
It was a fun trek. I thought Barb displayed a good pragmatic approach to her captivity. Clearly developing a healthy survival instinct.
Glad you got them out in the end, after some truly inventive re-education methods. I like your writing.
You know perfectly well that most of the people on the street saying "eh" are Americans trying to fit in, desperately pronouncing things wrong, like "aboot" , and all the Canadians I know from Winnipeg are Vikings fans.Thanks, Jolly (or is it Phlebas?). Yes, Barb is improving at her escape skills. But how do you think she will do as a Canuck? Will she forget the Badgers and the Packers and cheer for les Canadiens? Will she be happy hanging out at Tim's? Will she end her sentences with "eh"? Tune in to the next installment of Barb's adventures
You know perfectly well that most of the people on the street saying "eh" are Americans trying to fit in, desperately pronouncing things wrong, like "aboot" , and all the Canadians I know from Winnipeg are Vikings fans.
It's not my real name, of course, but that of the 14th century author of the sometimes racy stories in the "Decameron." I'm not Italian, so I could be wrong, but I believe the pronunciation is 'boh-KOTCH-ee-oh'
A young army recruit named Boccaccio
Washed his pants but made them much too starchio,
When he stood to attention,
He earned special mention,
But he squeaked and he creaked in quick marchio!