The Scarsdale diet

Today I went to a barbecue in Scarsdale. The Scarsdale, with the high property taxes and all that. Where I went was not fancy, however. I hung out at a friend's, with a bunch of his friends, all of whom grew up there, in nearby houses they could point out from where we were sitting in the backyard. And their wives were tough Italian chicks, the kind who work hard at making ziti and babies, and smoke Marlboro lights, and will scratch your eyes out with those acrylic tips if you look at their husbands the wrong way. Tons of chicken and ribs and Grey Goose, the weather cooperated, and I like getting out of the city because I am getting old and sensitive to smell.