[Leica] jill greenberg explained all of this to me personally

[kcassidy at asc.upenn.edu (Kyle Cassidy)]

"This is my friend, Jill Bleenberg," said the Juice, waving his martini
at the svelt 30something woman walking in the door of the Baffled
Rooster, our new favorite hangout -- since the "Incident" at the
Borgotta had gotten us blacklisted at pretty much any place in Atlantic
City.
 
"Bleenberg?" 
 
"Greenberg," said the woman, takin OJ's drink from his hand and pouring
it in his lap.
 
"Pleased to meet you," I said, suavely. "I'm Kyle Cassidy."
 
"I know who you are," she inserted, producing a cigarette from a purse
shaped like a miniature Domke-J bag, "I follow the PLUG. Do you mind if
I smoke?"
 
"Only if you're on fire," I replied, pulling the cigarette from her over
made-up lips and flinging it behind the bar."
 
"I like you," she said, giving OJ a shove. He toppled off of his stool
and made a soft clattering sound on the ground, like a bag of apples, "I
like, bold men."
 
"That's good," I replied, waving the bartender over and ordering another
Shirly Temple.
 
"In fact, I like you so much I'm gonna take your picture," she said,
producing a Minox Hello Kitty spy camera from her garter belt.
 
I smiled, my best smile. She paused a long time with the camera in front
of her eye. 
 
"Are you going to take a picture?" I asked.
 
"Goddamn amature!" she bellowed, reaching over and slapping me across
the face. It was like I'd been punched by an Irish boxer with a bag of
nails in his glove. My head spun sideways, everything flashed white, I
was pretty sure my skull had cracked like a coconut beaten by a gorilla
with a hammer. I burst into tears. She took my photo.
 
"That's my friend, Bleenberg!" shouted OJ from somewhere on the floor.