The Results Are In

D tried the Chocolate Lucky Charms this morning. Verdict?

"Well, um, they just taste like regular Lucky Charms. Or maybe, at best, marshmallows mixed with, like, low grade store brand Cocoa Puffs."

Heh.

Talk of Cocoa Puffs (which I don't really like, but which remind of Cookie Crisps, which rule!) only convinced me further that D and I will be going here while we are in Philly this weekend.

Which reminds me - Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Awesome. Newly released French Toast Crunch? Pointless and vile.

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I just saw Kate Hudson and Chris Robinson walking their baby outside of the building. They were very cute. I actually had my camera with me (long story) and momentarily thought of snapping a photo, but then thought better of becoming paparazzi.

I find this precious because for some reason it is heartwarming to see them acting like regular parents. Well, regular parents who don't have to work on a Friday afternoon. I guess I just assumed that a rockstar type would have better things to do, such as being "in the studio" or "with another woman."

Cute.

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I am wearing black today to honor the passing of Mitch Hedberg.

I'm still upset. We just saw him - not even two weeks ago. I am so glad I had the opportunity to see him. I blame the catty (thanks for editing, E.Pi) bachelorettes who caused him to be paranoid at the show. They drove him back to drugs, or whatever it was that caused his heart attack. Stupid bachelorettes. They probably don't even know that he's dead.

I'm trying to understand why I'm so distressed, and I think its because Mitch Hedberg was so innocent. His comedy was never offensive or charged or distasteful. He was observational and light and fabulous.

I also credit him with being one of the only things that helped my mood a few years back. I hit a rough patch a few years ago, during which I was a mess and couldn't be consoled by anything. Sister said "Dude, you need to listen to Mitch Hedberg." She then launched into an impression and I was like "I don't know, man, I don't know if I can just sit and listen to something right now" and she insisted, saying "Seriously, Leah, he's the funniest guy ever."

I proceeded to sit on the floor of her bedroom in Medway and laugh until the tears transformed from sad tears into the kind that flow in response to uncontrollable laughter. My parents and brother, who heard us laughing, appeared in Sister's room and soon joined us. It was awesome.

I am going to buy a Quadruple Tree Hotel t-shirt in Mitch's honor, and will wear it with pride.

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It is weird how people are dying.

Johnnie Cochran, Terry Schiavo, Mitch Hedberg... I just heard that Frank Purdue died (I thought he was already dead?) and probably soon The Pope.

Weird.

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Mitch Hedberg is dead.

Fuck.

I don't even know what to say.

I am shaking.

Polka Chic

I think the key to becoming rich is to take something that already exists, and has existed for quite some time, and make it fashionable.

An example - poker. Why is poker a new fad? Suddenly everyone is obsessed with poker. Poker reality shows. Poker internet pop-ups. Radio ads for classes that will teach you how to play poker.

I don't understand.

I mean, I understand, because poker is awesome. It's always been awesome.

I'm sure there are millions of other examples of this that I can't think of right now.

I said to D "You know what we should do? Make like an Uno version of poker... like for kids... people would go nuts for that right now.... you know, like how Uno is CRAZY EIGHTS (thank you, Mo, for editing) but with Draw Fours and Skips."

Turns out that this has already been invented, and is called Phase 10. I was playing Phase 10 shortly before I suggested this. Apparently I hadn't consciously realized that Phase 10 is a combination of Poker and Rummy 500. I was too fixated on the Rummy 500 similarties.

The task of the week is to think of something that's always been cool and to start a crusade to convince people that this thing is NOW the coolest thing.

This might involve a reality TV show. I'm not happy about that, but if it makes me rich, I won't mind selling out.

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In other news a third Shins show has been added! I couldn't attend either of the original shows as I will be in The South. A third show was just added and I will be at it, thanks to a blog that just announced that tickets went on sale.

Blogs are good.

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D came back from FL last night. I called him as he was boarding the plane in FL, and he said "I have surprises. You are going to be so excited. You won't be able to sleep tonight."

When he arrived, before saying anything to me, he threw his bag on my bedroom floor and pulled from it a box of Lucky Charms. "Can you stand it?" he said.

"Ummm...."

D thinks that food can only be purchased in Florida. (Which is sort of true - its hard to find what you want in NYC, but I don't think you really need to go to FL to go grocery shopping). He also thinks that Target only exists in FL, even though there is now one in Times Square and has always been one in Brooklyn. Then again, the Target in Brooklyn is actually Scary Target, at which you have to put your shopping cart on an escalator in order to get it to the second floor, thus causing anxious people like myself to carry all sorts of awkwardly shaped objects instead of risking losing potential purchases to an unpredictable escalator with notches in it. I'm sure D would like me to tell you that the Target in FL is a Super Target. I'm not sure how much more super Target could be. Sadly I was not able to experience its Super-ocity firsthand due to its being closed on Easter.

I digress.

"CHOCOLATE LUCKY CHARMS!" he said. "This combines two of your favorite things - Lucky Charms and CHOCOLATE!"

Now.

D knows that variations on food that is already good is a pet peeve of mine. I've always been like this - for example, when I was little, I just adored My Little Ponies and loved all of the ones that I had. Then, as soon as little girls had all of the My Little Ponies, they'd come out with NEW My Little Ponies. Baby ones, ones with wings, ones with glitter, ones with fluorescent hair. I was always torn between loyalty to the original and enthusiasm for the new. It was the same with Cabbage Patch Kids. I finally got one, but then they came out with the premie ones, the animal ones (which now horrifies me - I haven't thought about those since elementary school), but I always remained loyal to Sandy, my original doll.

I just don't understand why there has to be flavored Pringles. Pringles RULE. Why do they need to have barbecue flavored ones when the original flavor is perfectly adequate? And Cheez-Its - Cheez-Its are the best thing ever, so why do they now have flavored ones? And pizza-flavored Golfish? WHY!?!?? Why can't we ever just be happy with what we have?

D is an experimenter. He likes the variants. I always say "D, what if you met a bunch of new people who were slight variants on all the people you know? With all else being equal, I guess you'd try? You'd just try new people?!?!? WHY SHOULD I TRY FREAKING WHITE CHEDDAR PRINGLES WHEN THE ORIGINAL IS AWESOME?!?!? WHY SHOULD I WANT SOMETHING ELSE WHEN WHAT I HAVE IS GOOD? WHY WOULD YOU BUY THESE!??! TRAITOR!!!"

Food remixes.

Lame.

Anyway, I didn't launch into my food diatribe because he was so excited, but now I am torn, because I have to try the Lucky Charms even though I hate them just because they exist. I love original Lucky Charms. I never thought "You know, this could be better."

But, more importantly, D has purchased more Star Wars legos for us to play with!!! Now we will have ships for our TIE fighter to play with. Weeee!!!!

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I listened to my friend's radio show this morning. I was torn, because I was listening to Howard Stern prior to his show's beginning and Howard Stern said "How long is the Mitch Hedberg bit? Should we play it now or... well... let's go to ads..."

Torn.

The reason I mention this is because I can rarely find anything on the radio worth listening to, and there I was, for the first time in my life, with a radio conflict!

Mitch Hedberg never came on and I couldn't get a good stream of my friend's show, so there wasn't much of a conflict in the end.

Oh well.

It was, for a moment, cool to be excited about radio.

My Trip To Florida - An Essay by Leah Lar

It is sunny and gorgeous in NYC today. Because I did not have to wear a coat today, I am not as wistful as I was yesterday.

At any rate.

We arrived at Laguardia 1.5 hours prior to our scheduled departure on Friday afternoon, only to learn that our flight had been delayed for an hour. This became two hours, then four. Without announcement, the flight was cancelled due to severe weather in Florida.

We spent an hour in line awaiting our fate, and were able to reschedule for Saturday at 3:00 pm. I changed my return flight to Monday at 2:00 pm. I was pissed about this - hence my post on Friday night - as I did not go home to visit my family for Easter because I didn't want to use a precious vacation day. I hadn’t realized I was homesick until Friday, confronted with the idea of visiting someone else’s family when I haven’t seen my own in quite some time. When I did see them last, it was at a funeral and everyone was a mess. D was mad at me when I initially suggested taking a 7am flight on Monday so as not to miss an entire day of work. In order to appease him, I consented to the 2:00, but spent the majority of the night feeling cross without giving him an explanation.

We took a cab back to Brooklyn because I was moody. D is adamantly anti-cab because he is pro-public transit and pro-saving money. I suspect he didn't want to spend two hours trapped on public transit with my being vicious. The cab ride gave me the opportunity to talk to RR, who calmed me down about all things because she is an old friend and therefore understands.

D and I went on "a date" once I was able to make a decision on what to eat. I had a drink and became honest and things were fine.

We headed to JFK the following afternoon. D insisted that we sit at the front of the JFK-transit-train-thing (which costs $5! who knew?) because he is a giddy child about trains.



Check-in was a labor as we no longer had e-tickets. Slightly panicked about missing our flight, we were pleased and annoyed to learn that our flight had, again, been delayed by two hours due to weather in FL. This time it was hail.



Song Airlines rules. They have in-flight trivia and TV, as well as half-decent food for sale. They also have “Song of the Day” safety instructions. It was “Flamenco!” on this particular occasion, and the rules were read by a sultry woman who made arbitrary analogies involving flying and flamenco dancing. I was hoping for “Gangsta Rap!” on my return flight, with the rules for evacuation being read by Snoop Dogg. I was, sadly, disappointed.

Seeing the person you love in a different context for the first time is a powerful experience. I realized, the moment that we stepped outside into the warm and thick Orlando air, that I was going to leave Florida feeling differently about the relationship than when we arrived.

D’s father and niece, who adores D, picked us up. Little Niece 1, who is 3 and a half years old, flipped out when she saw D. D insisted that I sit in the back with Little Niece 1. I tried to insist, without actually saying anything, that this was the worst idea ever, but D wouldn’t have it. His desire for Little Niece 1 to adore me was a little greater than my convictions that Niece 1 would destroy me in a jealous rage or hate me for being unfamiliar or rip my glasses from my face. Little Niece 1 was just in love with Uncle D and therefore suspicious of Uncle D’s friend. She looked me up and down judgmentally at first, causing me to want to jump out of the car. Eventually she warmed up to me, and held both of our hands as we walked into the restaurant to “meet the family.”

Aunts, uncles by marriage, brother, sister-in-law, Little Niece 2, mother. I instantly forgot all names and smiled brightly and hugged his mother and wanted to hide in the fish pool at the entrance to the restaurant.

Dinner was nice. I can’t remember what was said as I was in high stress mode. I was actually in high stress mode for the entire time I was there.

We headed back to D’s parents’ house after dinner. I was ill-prepared for their house. D never mentioned that they lived in a gigantic, sparkly, new and pristine home. I felt like I was on an episode of Cribs. I’ve never set foot in a house like this. It’s gorgeous. This is the view from their kitchen window:



We drank wine and nobody asked me questions. I sat back and observed.

Observation. Amidst an already established family unit, I found myself taking photos of them non-stop. For the first time I understood my father. I wonder if he never feels involved, and that’s why he hides behind the camera. Or, if because he’s hidden behind the camera for so long, he no longer knows how to be involved.

Either way, I got some amazing photos of D’s family. I wonder if, years from now, somebody will find these photos and wonder who took them. I wonder if there will ever be pictures of me. I hope not.
I took about 100 photos of the Nieces and the family and D, who I love to photograph, and also spent a great deal of time taking pictures like this, because I really didn’t know what else to do with myself.



His family is very nice. And photogenic. They told me their life stories when I asked questions, and D said “I’ve never seen either of my parents talk this much.”

I’d never seen D talk so little.

It’s amazing how much you can learn about someone when you see him with his family. On top of the precious and dirty childhood secrets they reveal, they inadvertently shed light onto why he is the way he is. Seeing a person interact with his family is the best data you can gather.

It’s also interesting to compare and contrast families. I can’t read families that are not like my own. I feel comfortable in some families and uncomfortable in others. When you’re growing up, you assume that all families are like yours because you don’t know anything else. I have no idea what they thought of me. None. I have nothing to work with. My family is outgoing and obvious. They have endless amounts of affection to give and life stories to absorb.

I described his family to Roommate and the first thing she said was “Wow, that must have been so weird for you considering what your Mom is like.”

Yes.

I liked them. A lot. By the end of the weekend Little Nieces 1 and 2 were attached to me. Kids are easy to read, and once you have them in your corner they are loyal until the end of time.

We took a ferry to Disney World but didn’t go in. Sister-in-law made fondue. We drank wine and played cards. We tried to go to supermarkets that were closed on Easter. D talked like Mitch Hedberg all weekend and said things like “Wait – what was that Mitch Hedberg joke about the future?” and “Tell them about the rice joke!” I walked around awkwardly and uninvolved, smiling and uttering words nonsensically every now and then. It’s difficult to use words when they are a rarity.

D said “It’s amazing how comfortable this feels. It’s like, so natural. It’s like your being here isn’t a big deal at all.”

I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

After the Disney World ferry/monorail adventure, D and I went for a walk around his parents’ neighborhood, which is a gated community that is still being developed. We played in the foundation of one of the future-houses.



It felt more like something that had been destroyed than something being built. The light was romantic. It was like playing on giant legos. D was blissful and atypically cooperative, and thus granted me permission to take millions of photos of him.



While battling mosquitoes and running around the neighborhood, we learned more about each other. Things are getting better, and I don’t understand how that is possible. I guess this comes with getting to know someone better, and getting to know someone differently.



On our way back to D’s parents’ house, we walked past mounds of dirt that had been dug up for foundations. It reminded me of being a child. The house that I grew up in was designed by my parents, so we were able to play in the foundation and climb the mounds of dirt, which seemed like mountains, before we moved in. I took pictures of the mounds, but instead of looking like mounds of dirt leaking nostalgia, they looked like the surface of Mars.



After dinner we walked again and talked about things like the relationship and photography and personalities and neuroscience and timeframes. We sat by a lake and listened to nothing. We sat on grass, which is something we’ve not done together. We played the “who can spot the most toads” game. We talked about the likelihood of D’s tent still being at his parents’ house and our camping out in their yard that night.

D is prone to asking questions like “What is your happiest memory?” and I never know what to say. Is your happiest memory supposed to be from childhood? Is it sad that I don’t have one? I have vague memories – running around the foundation of my future home, playing restaurant in my grandparents’ pantry, making up dance routines with Sara because we were certain we’d get on Star Search if we practiced enough.

I think the happiest memory has to come from childhood, because it doesn’t risk being tainted. A lot of my happy memories have been brutalized by things that happen afterwards.

Point being, I hope that sitting by the lake with D will remain one of my happiest memories.



I got back on Monday night at around 6:00. My flight was, again, delayed due to weather in northern Florida. People clapped at the end of the flight. This happens every 1 out of 5 flights, and I love when it does. I think people should always clap when people do their job. “Well done! You didn’t kill us! You’ve gone above and beyond and we will therefore clap for you!” Perhaps I’ll start clapping every time I get off the subway successfully, or every time someone at work fills the water bath.

This is the longest and most melodramatic post ever.

If you made it this far, I am clapping for you right now, because you have really gone above and beyond and I am super appreciative of your reading my blog.

Disoriented

What is it about travelling that convinces me that I haven't figured anything out?

I suppose its natural to have no desire to return to one's actual life when one is away from it. I suppose that's the point of taking time away.

Perhaps the key is to take enough time away. Then, presumably, one starts missing one's actual life.

Is that how it's supposed to work?

When I first arrived in Florida, I said things like "I can't believe that people live like this!" and "Why would anyone want this?" and "What if you want to go to a different supermarket?" and "Why does anyone need a three car garage?"

After a day and a half, I instead was saying things like "If I lived here, I'd be so relaxed" and "I'd stare out at this lake and maybe even fish and not think of anything but the stars" and "I'd be giddy watching those construction workers all day" and "Perhaps my snow-builds-character-theory is misinformed."

I am back from the orange-grove painted and perfectly landscaped world of sunny and sparkly Florida. I am disoriented by New York City's dark skies and the rain and the city sounds I'd quickly forgotten.

It's amazing how quickly you can get used to something that is nothing like your life.

It's amazing how quickly you can forget science, and how quickly you can get wrapped
up in fantasies involving everything but what you actually have.

It's amazing how much it saddened me to receive D's voicemail just now that said "Hi - insert secret affectionate and terribly cute pet name here - its beautiful and sunny and we're going to Disney World today so hopefully I'll talk to you tonight." My sadness didn't come from missing him or the sun. I thought "Man, I'd love to go to Disney World." Wtf!? I don't like Disney World! I thought the overabundance of Disney knick-knacks and wall adornments that cluttered my first post-college apartment and annoyed the hell out of me had cured me of any nostalgia that could ever make its way to the surface, but no! I want to go to Disney World.

Damn you, perfect Florida, for making me want to retire right now.