Capriotti's 003

I pretty much hate everyone when I’m driving.

But nothing pisses me off more than when someone drives a sports car, slowly.

Is there really anything worse? Perhaps keying another man’s car.

That’s worthy of severe punishment. Even you, Carrie Underwood.

Sports cars are supposed to whiz past you and cause you to curse the drivers for risking lives!

This morning, I was driving behind an elderly man in a souped-up Mercedes, just puttering along as if he was in a Model T Ford!

He never ONCE peered in the rear view mirror to see the friendly hand gestures I was presenting him.


He just continued to defile his beloved vehicle by refusing to bruise the delicate accelerator.

Why can’t he join the rest of his ranks and drive a Lexus or Cadillac??! (or one of those newly recalled Toyota’s with the gas pedal that sticks…)


Capriotti's 001

This place is a zoo. It just opened up and it’s the absolute definition of a clusterf***.

I witnessed an altercation between a large, fat man waiting patiently for a table and a douchey talent agent who had just retrieved his sandwich and placed it on said table as soon as the loitering ladies who had occupied it had skedadled.

The fat man sat down anyway.

Profanity ensued.

Douche McGouche’s argument was that since the fat man hadn’t ordered yet, he couldn’t snag a table.

“Where’s your sandwich, asshole?” he protested.

The fat man didn’t (couldn’t) get up.

Inside, there were dozens of sandwich makers begging for orders and ONE LONELY CASHIER with an angry mob at her wake.

They crowd lit their sandwiches on fire, as torches, in protest.

The lack of balance irritated me. Like neon sunglasses.


I ordered the Bobbie. The Thanksgiving sandwich!

My second favorite sandwich ever consumed. It just got better with each obcenely large bite.

Shredded turkey breast, lots of really good stuffing and cranberries.

Each bite had plenty of everything. My bread runeth over.

I almost didn’t mind that the wait was so long I had to leave and eat at my desk. With the door closed. For everyone’s safety.

9683 Wilshire Blvd
Beverly Hills, CA 90212
(310) 858-1383