At any rate, about halfway through this posh, candlelit, star-studded affair, Miss Tara wanted to check her phone to see if she'd gotten any calls, so she slyly opened her purse under the table and checked it without actually removing it from her bag, in an attempt to keep the escaping light to a minimum. Sitting next to her, I totally noticed what she was doing and called her shit out on it, along with, of course, congratulating her on inventing such a clever subterfuge. We belly laughed out loud and decided that, henceforth, this move would officially be known as A VINCENT VEGA.
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