I referred to myself as "a punster" in the lede of my Wednesday column. I don't think I've ever called myself that before — blame shame,. Because it's true. Too true, crew. Ewww...
Sorry. How bad is it? A few weeks ago I was in Hyde Park, with my young son and future daughter-in-law. You'd think I'd be on my best behavior. But one forgets oneself.
The question of dinner arose, and as always, I was pretty much go-with-the-flow as possibilities were aired: there was an all-you-can-eat sushi place, a Thai place, a Southern place. Any of those were good. A restaurant called Roux was mentioned.
I tried to resist. Shutting up is an art form. For a second, maybe two, I struggled manfully to stiff-arm the impulse. But failed.
"You mean 'Rue,' the French street food place...?" I ventured, gazing at a spot on the wall.
No, this is a ... my close blood relation said.
"Or do you mean 'Roo, the Australian restaurant...?" I continued, talking over him.
My loved ones began to draw away from me, casting me sidelong glances.
"Or 'Rue,' the regret-based theme eatery..."
I would have kept going, had I thought of "Rue, the bitter evergreen herb tea emporium..." But instead I ran out of a homophones and stopped. The others gave a sigh of relief. We hit the street and walked over to Roux,which turned out ot be a a large, brightly lit place on 55th Street. I had the fried chicken and cranberry salad, which was quite good. The beignets weren't Cafe du Monde beignets, but did serve their purpose.
Sorry. How bad is it? A few weeks ago I was in Hyde Park, with my young son and future daughter-in-law. You'd think I'd be on my best behavior. But one forgets oneself.
The question of dinner arose, and as always, I was pretty much go-with-the-flow as possibilities were aired: there was an all-you-can-eat sushi place, a Thai place, a Southern place. Any of those were good. A restaurant called Roux was mentioned.
I tried to resist. Shutting up is an art form. For a second, maybe two, I struggled manfully to stiff-arm the impulse. But failed.
"You mean 'Rue,' the French street food place...?" I ventured, gazing at a spot on the wall.
No, this is a ... my close blood relation said.
"Or do you mean 'Roo, the Australian restaurant...?" I continued, talking over him.
My loved ones began to draw away from me, casting me sidelong glances.
"Or 'Rue,' the regret-based theme eatery..."
I would have kept going, had I thought of "Rue, the bitter evergreen herb tea emporium..." But instead I ran out of a homophones and stopped. The others gave a sigh of relief. We hit the street and walked over to Roux,which turned out ot be a a large, brightly lit place on 55th Street. I had the fried chicken and cranberry salad, which was quite good. The beignets weren't Cafe du Monde beignets, but did serve their purpose.
Punkster? You? Pfft! It does look like a nifty place to eat.
ReplyDeletePunster: The guy who uses a homophone when you ask him where the Pride parade starts.
DeleteI briefly considered riffing off that very aspect, then decided against it.
DeleteBut you let it go through anyway. Didn't think you would. Thanks, Mr. S...
DeleteI'm trying not to be so sensitive.
DeleteIf it's any consolation, I would readily shut up in a similar situation, because none of the relevant puns would come to mind...until going down the stairs, as the French would say if they spoke English.
ReplyDeletejohn
does it need to be said? does it need to be said now? does it need to be said by me?
ReplyDeleteThanks for the "groaners."
ReplyDeleteMy wife would have been interested in 'Rue,' the Golden Girls themed pop up restaurant that I wouldn't mind trying myself. Did the cranberry salad come with iceberg or romaine?
ReplyDeleteNot sure.
DeleteIs homophonophile a word?
ReplyDelete