I’m back from my trip. Here’s what I did and the food I ate while I did it.
Monday: Drove five hours to Chicago. Ate delicious chopped salad. Karaoked at a gay bar – sang “Common People” by Pulp and “Joey” by Concrete Blonde. Smoked too much and stayed out too late but had a fabulous time.
Tuesday: Woke up early, went to airport. Smooth, uncrowded, pleasant flight to Newark. Felt like I was going to die, though, from lack of sleep and food. Auntie J picked me up and took me to her house. Napped, went to lunch (mmm… spinach and onion frittata), napped more, went to dinner. Best bruschetta I have ever had in my life, followed by almond cake with raspberry sauce. Oh my god. Back to Auntie J’s house where the whole family gathered ’round and watched President Douchebag give the State of the Union address. Boooo.
Wednesday: Slept in (flannel sheets!). Took train to NY with Auntie J. Muffin and coffee at Penn Station. I love New York. Rode the wooden escalator in Macy’s. Waited in line outside The Daily Show‘s studio for two hours. In the cold. Had in-depth conversation with Auntie J about our deep, dark family secrets. Taping of show was awesome – Jon Stewart is lovely and charming, but very short. Very interesting to see how show is taped – lots of cameras moving constantly. Scott McClellan was special guest. After show, went out for beer and burgers. Mmmm. Went home and re-watched the show on TV. Surreal.
Thursday: Woke up early, dressed in multiple layers. Took train to Manhattan all by myself. Rode subway to Greenwich Village. Breakfast at diner (bagel, coffee). Tried to figure out where the fuck I was in relation to where I wanted to be (was difficult as I didn’t really know where it was I wanted to be). Walked, walked, walked. Went to Andy’s Chee-Pees (great vintage store) where things were no longer cheap. $75 for a shitty Fleetwood Mac concert tee? No way. Walked, walked, walked around NYU campus. Pretended I was a student. Went to little store and bought an Ugly Doll for K. Walked, walked, walked. Was cold and exhausted so I stopped to see a movie. Didn’t care what was playing. Paid $11 to see a Romanian movie about a dying old man. Actually got into it, despite the fact that I am neither old nor directly a Romanian. After movie, took subway uptown to Rockefeller Center – wanted to take some touristy pictures. Walked, walked, walked. Realized camera was malfunctioning and it was getting late. Got lost some more, made it back to Penn Station and back on the train. Made it back to Auntie J’s house and then she took me over to Auntie S’s house. Broccoli soup, good bread, more almond cake. Hung out with my cousin Em, read some of The History of Love.
Friday: Aunties took me to airport. Was sad to leave New Jersey. Plane was crowded and noisy. Made it to Chicago, had Steak ‘n’ Shake with Dale and Will. Drove five hours in crazy wind. Was happy to be home again.
Some people vacation on sunny beaches. Some people vacation by staying home and watching Oprah. One week from today, I will be embarking on a strange little Jenny vacation. I am going to drive by myself to Chicago to have dinner and enjoy some gay karaoke with my dear friend D. The next morning, he is going to drive me to the airport at an obscenely early hour so I can catch my flight to Newark. That’s right, I’m vacationing in luxurious New Jersey.
Jersey and I go way back. I’ve never lived there myself, but I’ve come pretty damn close (I almost went to Rutgers!), and I don’t think I’d complain if I did. I’ve had family living there as long as I can remember, and it always feels like home.
I’ll be staying with my two aunts, respectively, until I fly home on Friday. Wednesday evening, my cousin Em and I are taking the train into New York to see a taping of The Daily Show, which should be totally fucking awesome, considering how much we both love Jon Stewart. Thursday, I’ll be going back to NY on my own to one of the happiest places on earth, the MoMa, and also to just generally explore the city on my own, since I haven’t been there in four years. I’m sure I’ll find something to do.
So I was doing a Google image search for the word “boring,” and I came across this great picture of Gwyneth Paltrow. I have no idea when it was taken, but she looks totally sexy in a mid- to late-nineties kind of way. I love it.
And yes, you read that right, I was GISing “boring.”
I swear I’ll post more tomorrow. I’m busy listening to “Joey” by Concrete Blonde right now.
I have seen Disney’s The Little Mermaid approximately 527 times since its release in 1989, when I was 6. It was my favorite childhood movie and probably still my favorite classic Disney movie. I have the entire movie memorized still, to this day. It made such an impact on me at the time that, for an alarmingly long time considering my age, I wanted to be a mermaid and firmly believed in their existence.
Anyway, when it was released to DVD this past fall, I immediately bought it so I could share the magic with the girls. They loved it and, filling me with pride, exclaimed that they, too, wanted to be mermaids! We’ve sinced watched this movie many, many times, one of which being last night.
While watching the scenes after Ariel is transformed into a human and has three days to convince Prince Eric that she is his “mystery maiden,” something dawned on me for the first time in 18 years. Why didn’t she just write it down? She obviously knew how to write, because she signed her name on the contract with Ursula. Is that all she knew how to write?
It really bothers me that it took me so long to realize this.
The recipe for quite possibly the most delicious late-night snack of all time, as requested by the lovely Stacey:
(note: the name “Michael Landon” has nothing to do with Little House on the Prairie, but serves rather as a retort to the “Robert Redford” dessert)