Oops, I disappeared. I planned on writing a blog 3 weeks ago and then changed my mind and read
Helter Skelter instead. Have you read that? Scary stuff. Charles Manson really is the devil. I like to read it in the dark with only the glow of a lighter and the crunching noise of my flaming hot Cheeto's. I also read
How To Murder Your Life by Cat Marnell,
Not That Kind Of Girl by Lena Dunham and
I Like You Just The Way I Am by Jenny Mollen. All three of those books I have already read twice, but just wanted to read them one more time. I tend to reread my favorite books (or whichever books are downloaded on my Ibooks library) every year. I highly recommend all of these!! I probably should be reading political novels and books about how to make it in a male dominated world, but I like hearing an amphetamine addict talk about high end conditioner and the Cielo drive murders in extreme detail.
When I wasn't sitting in bed reading, I traveled. Somehow my one week break from writing my book spiraled into a full blown vacation. I went to New York City and hummed the Alicia Key's song the entire time. Then I drove to Portland with Ty and ate donuts. Then we went to Chicago and stood in line for the Sears Tower.
My friend Louisa and I share the same birthday, August 10th, so I treated myself and flew out to NYC to celebrate. We made reservations to go to L'Avenue in the Saks store on 5th avenue. L'Avenue is a French restaurant owned by Costes in Paris. It's a Kardashian favorite, but I had never been. Shocking and an outrage. L'Avenue opened their second location of the same name in NYC a few months ago.
We sat down to our table and looked around, "Where is everyone?" It was 8pm on a Friday night and only one other table was booked. Then we looked down at the menu and saw that a side of avocado was $12.00. That's why.
The food was eh but the restaurant was beautiful.
Louisa is a New York native and knows all the best spots. To continue our Paris in New York adventure, we went to Lucien downtown and drank red wine and ate French bread until I announced that my skirt was digging too far into my stomach to breathe.
The next day, we got ourselves up and headed over to the Met. Louisa used her mom's membership and got us in for free. The camp exhibit was still up and wowza, what a treat. This was the first time I have ever seen one of the Met Gala exhibitions. The place was relatively empty too, it almost felt like we were celebrities perusing the gallery during the event.
I had chosen to wear these cute Helmut Lang heels that day, so went we left the museum, I was barefoot. We cabbed it over to East 68th street, my old home turf. Everything looked the same, it was like I never left. Even my favorite hot dog vendor was on the corner like he always was. I teared up a little looking at my old building. I imagined what it would be like if my mom never got sick, she probably would still be living there. Still working for 1st Dibs. Still walking my dog Leo when I refused. My life would probably be completely different. But, I'm happy the way it turned out, so I didn't know whether to be thankful or angry. I was just confused.
I walked the long walk to the building next door to my old High School. I hated that school. I hated how we had to call the nuns "sister" and let them teach us geometry. I hated that there was one staircase for going up, and one for going down, and if you got caught using the wrong one, you got detention. I hated that I had to drop out because my mom got sick.
I put my shoes back on and took a photo outside.
When I got home from my trip, I sat Ty down and explained to him that we needed to move to New York.
"It's where you go to be someone." I think I pulled that from the Delta in flight magazine.
He agreed, we decided to move there this year. Crossing our fingers for December. I have so many coats that need to be worn!
"And it's a much quicker flight to Paris." He added.
A few days later, Ty and I drove to Portland, Oregon. I always thought I liked Portland. I had been there once before and had a good time and ate good food. I changed my mind on this trip.
We checked into the Ace Hotel for our first night. My dad had warned me that it wasn't as nice as I believed it was, but I didn't listen. A signature of mine.
When we entered our bedroom, we shot each other a look that said
is this for real? The room was the size of a Poptart and had one window that didn't open because the radiator was outside. A green wool blanket covered the bed, it looked and felt like we just arrived at Elis Island. This trip was supposed to be part of birthday week, it was supposed to be perfect. I called the front desk and to my surprise, upgraded our room without me even threatening to cry.
The next room was much better. Big window overlooking the city, white fluffy bedding and Malin and Goetz products in the bathroom! We grabbed a drink in the lobby before going to Living Room Theater. I had heard good things about this movie theater and the name implied that it was comfortable. Their website recommended arriving 30 minutes before the movie so you could order your dinner while the lights were still on, then a waiter would bring it to your seat. I wouldn't shut up about how excited I was to eat pasta while watching the movie.
There was a large handwritten sign on the door when we entered, "we don't do table service anymore." The line to order was long and we were late, so we opted to just go sit down for the movie. I might have had my hopes too high, but they should change their name. I have never seen these chairs in ANYONE'S living room, and I've been to a frat house. Worse than normal movie chair seats.
We decided to go against our better judgement and stay. I had been wanting to see this movie ever since I saw them filming on Sunset blvd. It was Tarantino's
Once Upon A Time In Hollywood.
It was getting late and I was getting hangry, so when we left the movie I declared, "I thought Tarantino would finally be the guy brave enough to graphically show Sharon Tate getting murdered. I guess I was wrong."
I came to my senses when we saw it for a second time a few weeks later, "Thank God he made the right call and didn't show Sharon Tate getting stabbed, it just wouldn't be right. Tarantino is better than that." I bought the book instead to get my gore fill.
The next day, Ty took me out for a birthday dinner. I made a reservation for a new Italian restaurant that had a tasting menu with 8 courses! Then, I must have been hit in the head with a bat or something because I canceled that reservation. I changed it to a place we had driven by earlier that "looked good", then I changed it once more to a place that was near our hotel. I came out of my reservation k-hole and decided to stick to my original plan. I tried to change back to our original reservation, but damn, it must really be a good spot, because they were now completely booked up.
I do this every time I'm in charge of choosing a restaurant for a special occasion. I always think it's not going to be exactly right and try to change it at the last minute, always leaving me disappointed. Last year, I made a reservation for Ty and I to go to Craig's in West Hollywood, but in the end, we found ourselves eating cold bolognese in an S&M themed restaurant with $23 cocktails.
We walked over to the restaurant, hopeful that maybe this place was nice, besides, I had selected patio seating so it should be romantic. We we arrived, we saw a table haphazardly thrown on the side walk in front of the tram stop. That was obviously for us. We stood outside for a few minutes deciding whether or not to ditch, but ultimately stayed because they would have charged us $50 for canceling at this time. It's never a good sign if a restaurant charges you to cancel. That means they are desperate for people to be there. A good restaurant will have no problem filling that table if you don't show up.
While the tram running by us every 5-7 minutes was not very romantic, the food was actually pretty good. But, just as I was blowing out the candle on the chocolate souffle, I head a noise behind me.
"Bleeeeeuugh"
I whipped my head around to find an old woman vomiting a few feet away from me. Her husband followed her outside and sat her down at a table. He went back inside the restaurant to presumably finish his meal, while she kept vomiting on the sidewalk. Every few minutes, I would hear her barf hitting the cement. I kept turning my head to shoot her a dirty look, hoping she would get the memo that it was time for her to get in a cab and leave. But she didn't. She just kept barfing. Then she fell asleep.
I decided I didn't like Portland.
A few days later, Ty and I went to Chicago to go to his grandmother's funeral. This was the first open casket funeral I had ever been to and it wasn't as scary as I was expecting. I don't want to be buried though, I'm worried I'm going to come back to life and be banging the inside of my casket and no one will hear me. This is in my 10 ten list of fears. Right behind getting a paper cut on my eyeball but before falling off a rollercoaster.
After the funeral, Ty leaned over and told me, "When I die, just throw me in the trash."
We had a free day before our flight home, so Ty and I went into Chicago to see the sights. We went to the Art Institute Museum and had a lovely Italian lunch after. I decided when I saw the Sears Tower for first time, that it has always been my dream to go to the top. We bought our tickets to go all the way up and stand on the glass platform that hangs over the side, and then we saw the line. But since we already paid, we figured we had to stand in the 2 hour wait so we could have 60 seconds on the platform. When it was finally our turn, Ty looked down the 102 floors and became paralyzed. He didn't move until they told us our turn was over.
I'm realizing that having to pay ahead of time, never ends up well for me.
During all this traveling, I somehow forced myself to edit the damn book. And guess what, it's almost finished!!!! I just need to do some final tweaks and add in photos. The book itself has changed courses many times as I wrote it, but the final stage is here and I don't want to toot my own horn, but it's pretty damn good. It's a collection of short stories about me and mom and some other people. It's funny and it's sad and it's mean. Just like my mom!
Another important part of my summer was the discovery of a Moscow Mule, well actually a London Mule. A Moscow Mule has vodka in it and a London Mule has gin. I still find myself ordering a "Moscow Mule but instead of vodka can you use gin?" Because I feel like a prick asking for a London Mule.
They're also basically the easiest cocktail made other than just pouring a straight shot.
Here's how I've been making them:
As much gin as you can handle - Hendrick's if someone else is paying, Bombay if you are, but honestly, they all taste the same.
Half the juice of a lime
Fentiman's ginger beer
Ice - crushed ice from Sonic tastes the best, but regular freezer ice is fine.
So easy, so good. To really set the mood, order some copper cups on amazon. There's not really any other way to make a mule, maybe add some mint or fresh ginger. I once made one when I was low on supplies with just ginger ale and gin and it tasted great!
I promise the next time I post on here, the book will be done! Ok, I'm going to go read
Free Gift With Purchase by Jean Godfrey-June because I also decided I want to work in magazines in NYC even though print is dead. Viva la magazines!!!
