I was bopping around listening to my Rent soundtrack this morning, I had a thought:
I moved to New York, 1200 miles away from my hometown, because I was stupid and from a small town, I thought that I would really be able to change where I lived. Not that I didn’t understand the monstrosity that is New York, but I assumed I would have more control over the process of creating one’s life. Now I see that this culture has been growing for generations before me and will continue after I am gone, and it changed me far more than I will change it. I had no idea how entrenched in our culture we are until I moved to a completely foreign one.
The other week, before I boarded the PATH train, a cop made me throw away my newly purchased coffee. It was the saddest thing I’ve ever done. Today, I shoved my coffee in my bag before I boarded the train right past the cops. I am so badass.
On your next trip to Hoboken to buy Mozzarell, visit your cousin Joey, or for Hoboken St. Patty’s Day, see how many you can spot. First one to get 5 in a row wins. Just kidding, if you’re in New Jersey you’re already a winner.
I normally never talk to my seat partner on a plane. I consider them annoying but mainly invisible road blocks to my comfort. However, on my recent flight to Jacksonville, my well-dressed middle-age window-seat companion thanked me for passing his diet Coke to the stewardess. When he opened his mouth, I thought he was gay, which is the only reason I started talking to him.
We chitchatted pleasantly for a while about his travels to India before he dropped the ex-wife bomb. WHAA?! Ex-wife? I curiously asked what happened, and he said it didn’t work out because they have differences in how they think their daughters should be raised. WHAAA??!!! Daughters? Plural?! I work at a theater for chrissake, I have excellent gaydar. Then he tells me how he coreographed the dancing for his daugher’s Bollywood talent show.
I tell him about my bf and what a great relationship we have. Then he drops a second bomb:
He asks me if I want to know a secret about men.
He says: “All men like to be dominated.”
And that’s when I crawled out of my skin and the elderly woman next to me choked on her apple juice. Thank you, Continental Airlines, for the most awkward plane ride of my life.
Three small children walked up to the area near the tennis courts, where Matt and I were waiting to play. The park’s sprinkler showers were on, and the mist was refreshing. The smallest child, maybe 3, started to run through the water with the biggest, happiest smile on his face. It was wonderful to be able to witness the pure essence of joy in a happy child playing in the cool water on a hot summer afternoon.
This Friday I will be cruising around the Bahamas so I will not be able to bring you Sister Fridays because I will be too distracted by tanning and drinks with a cute little umbrella in them. I know, your heart is breaking for me. Try not to suffer too much, as today is an extra-special Sister Friday:
Classiness. Its genetic.
My favorite part is the girl on the right who you can tell is so over the amount of ass grabbing she has seen from my sister and her friends.
This isn’t a movie blog for the main reason that I consider Aladdin to be a cinematic masterpiece and no one would listen to me, but I just HAVE to write about the Julie/Julie movie.
And I think its applicable – young outer borough NY transplant works at a job in the day and seeks to take on a project to give her life passion and meaning. And writes about it. Then becomes famous and has a movie made about her starring a hot actress.
I’M SENSING A PARALLEL HERE, RIGHT?!
Anyway, this movie was completely enjoyable. Meryl rocked it and I liked Julie’s character, even though the reviews were pretty hard on her. The only thing I couldn’t possibly stand and was cringe-worthy, were the scenes where Julie’s husband eats.
Its like his mouth detaches from his body and molests whatever food he’s attempting to eat. Most of which ends up over his face. But the movie references the fact that they’re not having sex, so I’m sensing overcompensation.
Internet, I have done it. I have started to tease my hair, wear lycra, stick zebra press-on nails and drink ginny juice (Thank you, Clinton Social for giving me a reason to say ginny above a whisper). I have started to say “shore” instead of “sure,” “yo muddah” instead of “How’s yer mama?” and”forgeddaboutit” instead of “let’s move on from this indefinable subject.”
I have moved to New Jersey.
There are no scarier words that can strike the heart of a (pending) New Yorker.
After a incredibly painless move (thanks to endless to-do lists at 3AM), we were finishing bringing boxes into my bedroom and the front door was left open.
Suddenly, a neighbor’s adorable little yorkie popped into my room and started excitedly sniffing around.
If that’s not an auspicious sign, I don’t know what is.
Hoboken Candy Shop
Posted in Random
Tagged Hoboken, moving