Don't Judge a Dog by Its Cover.

I figured out a new way to fall down subway steps yesterday: backwards. (Seems mundane, but I think I spiced things up nicely.) If you just let your mind wander for a second and forget to carefully place your feet on each step, you can easily manage a hefty fall that will send you tobogganning down at least four steps on your ass. This will result in: some very nice dirt stains from subway stair grime on your now-bruised ass; snickers and gasps from bystanders; extreme discomfort; and the complete loss of all dignity. (Really. Is there any suave way to recover from a fall? Whenever I trip or fall or faceplant, I can't help but keep replaying how I must've looked in the act of falling in my head over and over. And trust me--even my imagination doesn't spare me any embarrassment. I keep thinking that everyone around me who saw me fall is doing the same thing, too. It's totes hard to recover from that. I welcome friendly advice.)

In other news, I embarrassed myself at work the other day. (Bahahaaa. Did you like how I pretended like I was about to tell you something not awkward and embarrassing? Because I did. I liked it a lot.) Fio is always telling me to be more assertive with customers: don't just give in when they ask for happy hour prices at the cafe tables, tell them we can't make special meals that aren't on the menu, don't let them wheedle you into drawing up separate checks--in short, he encourages me to indulge my inner bitch whenever possible. Last week, a woman and a man who appeared to be her husband waltzed into the restaurant with a huge-ass yellow labrador retriever and plopped themselves down in a booth. Gathering my bitchy instincts, I marched over to the woman and prepared myself for confrontation.

"EXCUSE ME," I blasted at her. "You can't have a dog in here. It's a healthcode violation." I also glared at her in what I hoped was a menacing and condescending way, as if to say, What IS it about you snobby New Yorkers who think that pets need to accompany you EVERYWHERE, up to and including the toilet? Jesus.

Unfortunately, today was apparently not the day for me to be assertive. "This is a seeing-eye dog," she coldly informed me. I now noticed that the dog had one of those special harnesses on. I also noticed that her husband was holding onto both of the menus.

Even Fio was embarrassed for me. He pulled me over to the bar and stage-whispered in my ear: "She comes in here ALL THE TIME. She can't see, Rachel. How can you not have recognized her?"

Well, fine. Fine. See if I ever try to be assertive again. 'Cause you never know if somebody's gonna turn out to be blind.