Word: fakeness
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...only space in the Exchange that never looks crowded is the Asian BBQ Korean Restaurant. It appears homey enough, with wooden tables and chairs, small window-shaped mirrors and fake plants lining the wall. The specialties are the Dop Baps, or Korean rice bowls ($6.95). The food is not fantastic—there’s a reason this one is empty. Great barbeque requires great meat, and the base ingredient here is chewily sub-par. For the price, however, it’s okay, and the eccentricity of the menu merits at least a passing glance. I have...
...counter in front of her is a basket of stones that read “BITCH.” “I should buy one for my wife,” a middle-aged man jokes. Landro doesn’t even fake a laugh. “All the guys that come in here, they say that,” she tells...
...does psychic readings in the back of the store. She welcomes me into an extremely pink room, decorated with crystals and chimes. When I point out the cat curled up on the sofa behind her, she gestures dismissively, saying, “It’s a fake cat.” In other words, alive—just not anymore...
...worked with teenagers at a day camp. Kyle, the only kid who seemed at all impressed that when I wasn’t being a camp counselor I was going to Harvard, kept challenging me to play poker. The games were low-key and I was able to fake my way through it—no betting, we would essentially just draw five cards each and compare our hands, and while I was able to save face in front of my sole admirer, I still didn’t really know how to play...
...second, most productive time, which gave me enough knowledge to fake my way through subsequent games with Kyle, was one winter night in Straus. One of my dormmates and I were waiting for the others to come back from a poker game and I mentioned casually that I’d never learned to play. We fetched a pack of cards, and made a resoultion that I should be taught immediately...