Lately I find myself walking by a certain restaurant on Columbus as often as I can just to check out the goofs on the specials chalkboard on the sidewalk, especially the spelling du jour of “meuniere.” Once it was “muñyer;” another day whoever scrawls apparently gave up and settled for “scallops muni.” The silliest part is that it’s not a French joint. Write Italian, damn it! Still, the confusion is not as embarrassing as a newish faux-retro diner’s overdesigned printed menu, which promises stuff “hot off the girdle.” Should I assume all drinks come fresh from the bra?