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[29 Jul 2004|11:58pm] |
So we've arrived in LaGuardia a little early (about three hours), and I mark this as a prime example of my mother's neurotic perfectionism. She feared our being late, so we left our residence on 52@8th around 9:45, for a 12:42 flight. It's just as well, really, because I haven't updated my LJ in quite a while; I've been busy/Lazy---sue me.
We reached satellite parking at 10:00, on Monday, and dropped our bags off around 1:00. At approximately 1:10, we were back on the streets; we had a power lunch at a fantastic Italian restaurant on 8@54, we visited Lincoln Center to get tickets for The Frogs (more on that to come), and we picked up some pastries, which would later melt in our warm fridge.
Then---we crashed. We slept for a good two hours. This time, we decided to take a cab to Lincoln Center, and waited for just a bit too long in front of the pond, listening to the recorded voices of frogs croaking. There was a large concrete phallus, using its one eye to stare back at us from the center of the pool; Evan(Ekbsn), maybe you can shed some light on this?
The Frogs, starring Nathan Lane, was---okay. It wasn't bad! It's worth seeing, even! But it just didn't---do much. It was entertaining, and it was relevant, but it wasn't moving, as I had hoped. Chris Kattan had been replaced at the last minute with Rodger Bart, whom I hate, so that could've been a large portion of my disappointment. Needless to say, we were tired. We skipped the gala and just got quick appetizers at another Italian restaurant.
And we started to notice a trend. For every other type of restaurant in NYC, there are seven Italian restaurants; Giorgio's, Rosa's, Pesciano's. I'm beginning to think that Italian cuisine, really, is the true American Cuisine; on a regular basis, the American family eats more italian food than any other. Think about it. Or don't; I'm okay with that, too.
SowesleepandwakeupinTUESDAY!
Mom and I did our routine morning; wake up early, bring Starbucks back up to the apartment, and spend two hours in the bathroom doing...whatever it is we do; neither of us know. We discussed the possibility of an alien couple having a similar morning routine; waking up, abducting us for two hours doing...whatever it is they do, and returning us dressed and slightly edgy.
We got into a cab andHEFLATLINEDITALLTHEWAYTOWASHINGTONSQUARE! Oy vey! We have a pretty decent tolerance for poor drivers, but damn this man knew what he was doing. We walked around for about two hours and concluded that all of the stores we were looking for were in hiding, so we got into another cab and got taken to Rockefeller Center; Kitsch Capitol, USA. We paid our homage to NBC studios, went shopping for about ten minutes, ate lunch in a (surprise!) Italian restaurant, annnnnd walked back to our homeyhome, where we took a nap.
We woke up just in time to make cute, stepped outside andFRIZZGOESMOM'SHAIR. It was raining, and not just raining; it. was. pouring. We pulled out our little black umbrellas...
(SIDENOTE: THREE NUNS JUST SAT IN FRONT OF ME. ONE FARTED. SORRY TO SOUND LIKE AN AWFUL MISCREANT BUT; HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA)
...like every other New Yorker and Tourist and Living Being on The Planet. People were bumpbumpbumping into each other like we were popcorn in a fucking popper. One woman poked herself in the eye with my umbrella; I laughed and kept walking. We were soaking wet so we walked into the nearest restaurant. (Yup, you know what kind.) The service was awful, but we ate and left and saw our next show:
The Boy From Oz. Let me just preface this by saying that mother has the largest crush on Hugh Jackman; he's one of the people on her list. You know, the list everyone has wherein they can legally cheat on their spouse with this person. The first act was fantastic; the woman playing Liza Manelli was out of this world. The woman playing Judy Garland was out of this world. Hugh Jackman...well, he was okay.
The second act started out with a little improv. NOTE: never pick me for an audience improv.
HIM: hello there, guy. I'm Peter Allen.
ME: No you're not. You're Hugh Jackman. Not even you believe you're Peter Allen. And you're not as pretty in person as you are in film.
HIM: Well, neither are you!
(insert audience laughter.)
ME: That's a flimsy comeback based on an implausablity; you've never seen me on film.
<./Improv>
To be honest, he really didn't deserve it. He was doing a pretty decent job, and he finished off the show phenominally, in spite of the dry and awful costars introduced in this act. He really did deserve the Tony, and the show was entertaining, in the same way Mamma Mia was supposed to be interesting, but failed at being so.
Then we went to Roxy and got ourselves some cheesecake. Yeah. Sometimes it's good to be in New York.
WEDNESDAYSNUCKUPONUS!!!
Not deterred by the previous day's shopping, we decided to again venture into what is essentially the bedrock of New York tourism; Fifth Avenue. Mommy got some purses and...stuff. I got some shoes. It was, to say the least, successful. I was still searching for Taryn's gift. I was failing.
We almost missed our matinee of I Am My Own Wife but, my god I'm glad we hopped out of our limo and ran; it was the most riveting show I have ever seen. Jefferson Mays is so incredibly---brilliant. The play is so unashamed and raw. Everyone should, at least, read it. It was incredible.
We went back to our place, and my mom decided to hop downstairs to Phantom of Broadway Gift Shop...yes, we live a few stories above a Phantom of Broadway. We also live across the street from Flash Dancers, NYC's finest Gentlemen's Bar. Anyway, we went downstairs and just...kept walking. We asked the clerk at the store where we could find some good knockoffs. He recommended Harlem; we recommended he go there first. He recommended we go to hell. Who says you can't travel New York by word of mouth? Tosh.
After mucho shopping, we ended up eating at a decent, but ultimately forgettable seafood tavern, the Redeye Grill. Meh; what can you say? It was...there. Finally, we went to go see Avenue Q. IT. WAS...NOT WHAT I EXPECTED! It was still funny and it was still really brilliant, but it was a totally different approach than what I had imagined and, at times, it managed to scare the crap out of me; all this unsuccessful future talk.
Well, then we went to Carnegie Deli and I ran into Michael Goldsmith and two other Interlochen girls that were ultimately forgettable; one of them was Hannah Murray, I think. Who cares?
The cheesecake was good, so I'm okay.
Then, down and out, the best thing that could've possibly happened---it did. I found what I was looking for; Taryn, you will be soooooo pleased.
ThensleepandAIRPORT! WOW! This wasted time well, we're about to board!
Conclusions:
I could never Live in NYC
My mom and I are, ultimately, the same person
Home is where the Hilary Duff is
HILARY DUFF CONCERT TONIGHT, Y'ALL. DON'T HATE! HIL IS ILL!
Just to save my street cred after that statement, Gravy Train!!! Pictures to follow.
Fucker.
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pleased