"But the bib pants were uncomfortably snug--I learned later that Oshinski had grabbed the wrong pair and given me a pair belonging to Isabel, his wife, not a small woman but much, much smaller than me--and my breakfast constricted alarmingly when I walked outside, tipping side to side like a moonwalker, because I couldn't bend my knees."
And she identifies the issue my cousin found the oyster story in (see below) as the April 10, 2006 issue. I still can't find it.
First Lemann (with that soupy triple negative) and now Buford. What is journalistic prose coming to?
Categories: disgust, newyorker, kinesthetic, gustatory