Good morning, blog readers. Or should I say, good evening. That’s…not a good way to open a blog entry.
Hi, everyone.
No, that doesn’t work either.
Ah, Jersey. My home state. My comfort zone. My…there are a lot of people here. I awoke this morning with a very full day ahead of me. In order to set my plans in motion I had to drive my mother to work at 8am. After that I showered and dressed to meet my father for breakfast. Sesame bagel with egg whites and cheese. God, how I’ve missed you, quality bagels. You make me feel so, so good inside. Like how I would make Gail Simmons feel if I somehow bumped into her during the next two weeks. Bumped her in the crotch. With my penis.
The house made famous by Todd Solondz in his movie Storytelling.
Bagel consumed, satiated, it was time to start off on the tour of New Jersey. My co-pilots for this adventure were Hornet Montana, Ken and KT. The one tourist in our car described the experience as, “Great. It was very informative…in the beginning.” I should thank Mr. Montana for his local knowledge. The first thing I pointed out on the tour was an old age home. At that point, he took over and began talking about the history of my hometown, its local landmarks, various statistics and cultural references. We drove by some movie landmarks, various friends’ houses (I tried in vain to slip in nostalgic landmarks like the location of a handjob, but these went largely unnoticed by my audience), and former haunts. We drove to a nearby reservation with hiking trails, streams and waterfalls. My little tourist remarked, “I loved the reservation. That was really pretty. It was nice to take a walk after the bagel too. The tee-pee was neat! I wish we could’ve played more there, but there were so many things to do. And the waterfall was pretty. And the pouring the wine out of that bottle was intense. It was really crazy.”
From the reservation we drove through South Orange, Maplewood and Union until we reached the highway. Then it was a short trip down I-78, I-287 and the Route 202 to Bridgewater. Wegmans for lunch. I think everyone was impressed. We all had sandwiches and snacks. We played the lottery (scratch off tickets) and I was the only person not to win any money. Go figure. I thought it’d be my lucky day. We loaded up on beer for the nigh and departed. I love you, Wegmans.
Back in the ‘burbs, we watched the sunset from one of my favorite old haunts, the art park. Activities included a guided tour of the old Nike missile base in town (NY-79/80) and attempts at creating absurd group photos. We had dinner at mom’s. She made her world-famous chicken parmigiana with whole-wheat rotini pasta and homemade Cesar salad. It was delicious.
Ken, KT, Mssr. Hornet Montana, Matt and Adrienne (who came al the way down from Boston, just to see me I think!) came over to drink and watch scary movies. We settled on this atrocious, hilarious flick called Pig Fuck Pig Hunt. It was about a group of kids in California (natch) who go out into the wilderness near wild San Francisco and encounter a bunch of weirdo inbred freaks plus a 3,000 pound pig that rips people apart. The drinking game we played included rules such as “drink every time you see blood.” The beers included Left Hand Milk Stout, Founders Breakfast Stout, Weyerbacher Imperial Pumpkin Ale and Yuengling Black & Tan. The jokes were plentiful. The booze flowed freely. It was a very good night. I feel at home with these people. I feel like myself. It’s a beautiful feeling.
Tomorrow begins my work in the city. I’ll write if I have time.
