My favorite restaurant is really far from me, now that I live on the UWS where all the old people and babies live.
And tonight I traveled far and wide to eat at my favorite restaurant only to have obnoxious, high junkies sit down at the table behind me and my friend, and yell the N word to passing cabbies, and bang the table demanding their food to the waitress.
It was a junkie date between a high man and woman. Druggies in Love, if you will. Could be an Oscar Winner.
He was actually a nice and accommodating junkie, and he tried to calm her down, but she was just a racist bitch.
In any event, my Middle Eastern Lamb sandwich was served with a little stress on the side. And I have no pictures.
Bad Travel Decisions
I am not comfortable yet with how deserted it is at night on the Upper West Side. Even on a Saturday night. All the families asleep in their beds, or drinking pointless tea. The deserted sidewalks are unnerving after living in the East Village for 4 years, where it truly never sleeps.
I considered taking a cab, because I still have Mono, but that would truly be about $ 20 + and I want to wait until I have had one too many wine glasses and its 2 pm - when my cab inhibitions will be down, which unfortunately is bound to happen often enough.
So I responsibly hopped on an express A train thinking deliriously "Oh it will take me to 96th". No. No it took me to 125th, which is fine, but I was honestly too tired and delirious and scared of Harlem to deal with it. Or do deal with it rationally, at least.
Get a new hat
Some youngish man that I frantically asked to tell me where the train was going was smiling at me and trying to chat me up after I yelled "Shiiittt!" in the subway. Maybe he was being totally normal and I just can't deal with humans, but at that point I was deliriously about to cry through my half-closed, exhausted mono-eyes. This was not the time for subway love-connections.
But you know what else? He was wearing some weird baby-blue hiking hat on the subway at night, so I don't feel bad being skittish/cold/exasperated.
Something like this:
MiraCool Ranger Cooling Hat
Buy it if you want, I don't care.
So then I got on an A express going back downtown, like an idiot, which passed my stop again. And then waited with my eyes closed, clutching onto my bag, for a local going up to 86th.
I live in a very nice area so I need to just shut up. But I still envision the karate kicks I could give to someone's jaw if they dared to ask me for directions. I have never tried out any of my moves, but I am frighteningly confident about them as I powerwalk down deserted UWS sidewalks.
This post, however, is not about subways or druggies or dinner or hiking hats. It is about Two Fat Ladies.
I got home after all this thinking I would fall into bed, but instead I grabbed my Coconut Oil Popcorn that I made earlier, sat on the couch, turned the TV on to the Cooking Channel, and started to stress eat.
But then a magical thing happened: The weirdest show I have ever seen revealed itself to me.
The Two Fat Ladies
Has ANYONE seen this before? It is truly the most amazing thing. I can't tell if they realize how funny they are. They must. Right?
The smaller of the two was cooking quails and kept calling them "Creatures".
I love them.
Because I am such a thorough researcher I have learned from Wikipedia that :
"The recipes were gleaned from an older time and tradition when ingredients like rendered fat and drippings were used as well as raw eggs and unpasteurised milk products. They emphasised the importance of using fresh ingredients of the very best quality, eschewing supermarkets for farms and roadside markets."
I love them.
If only I could get over my fear of farmers markets.
So "Goodnight". Enjoy your freaking Saturday night, everyone. I will sit here procrastinating bed even though I need it more than ever, sitting here in a hunched position writing about "food" and "fat ladies" as I become one myself sitting on my couch, sick, and depressed on a Saturday night.
Goodnight Popcorn. Goodnight slow mush. Goodnight Two Fat Ladies whispering hush.