Ever have a burp remind you of a food you haven't even eaten recently? Or even crave that food? I just burped after taking a sip of coffee, and I swear it tasted like minestrone soup. Haven't had that in a while. Sure would hit the spot right now. Especially since I am feeling a wee bit under the weather these days. But who isn't, with weather like this? Last night it was probably in the low 50's. On the first night of June.Quite a taxing weekend. Lot of time spent in transit. Friday night I met up with Geoff and a few of his friends, including my former roommate Josh, in Williamsburg. It took quite a while for me to find the place, on the edge of the town by the Expressway. After calling several times for directions and precise location of the house among the confusing streets, I finally found the place. Of course, he could have just told me it was the house with the giant monkey face painted on the side with a giant banana on the door. Never misses a detail. Anyway, we hung out at a bar on Bedford ave called Yabby's. I'd been there a few times before but never new the name. Some of Geoff's friends didn't want to go because they said it was too much of a Williamsburg "scene." I had to agree with Geoff when he said it didn't seem like a scene at all, but just really dorky.
On Saturday I showed my apartment to several potential subletters, then spent a lot of time lounging around the house, first with Miss Charming Melodee and her sister and then their friend, then by myself on the couch watching tv. For some reason, I watched the movie The Hard Way in its near-entirety. This 1991 action-comedy teams Michael J. Fox, as a Hollywood action star, with James Woods, who plays a gritty New York City police officer, as Fox tries to learn the tricks of the trade from a real cop in order to land a peach of a role in an upcoming action movie. MJ starring as an action film star is absurd enough, and the rest of the movie has the requisite action movie components- the ball-busting captain (played by the underused Delroy Lindo), the romantic interest who the tough cop just can't let in, and the colorful, foreign villain with a catchy nickname (the Party Crasher). But jeez, I couldn't change the channel. For some reason, I like watching people like James Woods in movies where they play good guys. In most of his movies, he's the villain, or at least the reluctant ally who's still an asshole. It's the same kind of joy I used to get when I was little when a bad guy wrestler would turn good. Or when a Republican actually shows a semblance of a conscience. So for some reason I always feel compelled to watch those movies where James Woods or Christopher Walken or John Malkovich or Gary Oldman plays a good guy. Anyway, the film was pretty dreadful otherwise. But I'd still be interested in seeing the twenty minutes I missed in the beginning.
In the evening, two parties attended. The first was at the new residence of one of Miss CM's friends and her boyfriend. It was an interesting mix of Williamsburg hip type people and investment banker types. Not that I found the whole thing that interesting. But there was a lot of good food and they were very gracious and attentive hosts and everyone seemed nice enough. But it was hot and I was tired and I sat for a long time with MCM's sister while she tried not to fall asleep. There was one guy there who was sort of interesting, and had an interesting tale to tell about getting hit by a car in Montreal and breaking his neck and a lot more less important bones. He reminded me of the guy who plays Olivier, the art teacher, on Six Feet Under. Same cadence in his speech and brown skin and whatnot. Anyway, after a few hours, and several hot dogs, we left.
Trudged across town in the rain to catch the F train to Park Slope, where there was a party at Jed's place. Had a pretty good time there without ever really leaving the kitchen area. Can't really remember what happened. Some reminiscing and whatnot. Then a car ride home.
I was roused out of bed on Sunday by a phone call of from a girl coming to see my apartment. She had scheduled an 11:00 visit. She called around 11:05. I ignored it and went back to bed. She called again 8 minutes later. Ignored it again. Checked the message. She was on the stoop. Unfortunately, I was not at my apartment, but at Miss CM's down the street. So I had to wet down my bed head and put on my glasses and go show the apartment. James was asleep in bed, and I had already found a subletter they day before, so I didn't find it necessary to wake him up so I could show these girls his room. They left, and I got ready.
The function for the day was to attend the wedding of one of Miss CM's co-workers. Somewhere in NJ, still not sure where. Passaic, perhaps. Just a ways away. I didn't really want to go, and had suggested to Miss CM that we break up for the day. But she said even if that were to happen, she'd still ask me to go as friends. Rats. So we went. It took us a while to get there, and as luck would have it it was a Catholic ceremony, which means emphasis on the "ceremony" bit. The priest made an analogy about love during the ceremony that I thought was somewhat questionable, telling the story of a Special Olympics race in Seattle, where one of the kids fell down during a race and the others stopped, turned around, picked him up and they all finished the race hand in hand. Touching enough. But I still question the wisdom of likening the marriage to a race featuring developmentally disable children. On an unrelated side note, I thought the priest was particularly effeminate. I didn't really mention either of these things to the others, but when the groom sat down with us at the reception, he said "How about that priest huh?" And I was like "What do you mean?" and he said "He was like, totally gay." And when I mentioned the love analogy he said "Oh, you mean the retard race?" Good to know I wasn't the only one.
The reception was a pretty large and lavish affair. The food served during the cocktail hour could have easily qualified as a meal. I think I ate more cocktail shrimp in one sitting than I have in the last two years. Lots of good eats, and I'm surprised I didn't explode. Even the dessert was a smorgasbord of treats, with several different cheesecakes among the featured selections. My arteries hardened just standing in the room.
After hours of non-stop eating and drinking, I was dead tired. But we still had to drive back to White Plains, NY with Miss CM's co-workers, catch the train back to New York, then take a cab back to Brooklyn. Didn't get home till 1:30. The journey took slightly longer due to Miss CM's painful footwear. I actually carried her for the length of the train platform in Grand Central. Dames and their shoes, I swear...
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