It Wasn’t a Cold: Spring Break 2012

Well the last Spring Break I’ll get for at least the next few years has come to an end and of course my brain isn’t functioning regularly yet even though I’ve been back at school since Sunday.  To make things worse, Andrew sent me the following clip from this past week’s Saturday Night Live, which I missed, that has to be one of the all-time funniest things to come from SNL and features one of my favorite people and America’s answer to the Two Fat Ladies, Paula Deen:

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Now, aside from the sheer brilliance that are”That’s as stupid as fat free cream cheese,” “It started with me gettin’ what my mamma calls ‘the sugars'” and the ‘n’ word being nutrition, Kristn Wiig’s spot-on impersonation of my favorite hillbilly left Justin, Andrew and me wondering something: how does one spell my new favorite saying, “hot butter and oil” in this Southern dialect that is just too Southern for me to apparently comprehend.  Now, I figured out this unique pronunciation of butter is “booter,” but the way Kirsten Wiig says oil is just so bizarre.  Andrew thinks it’s spelled “aayl,” but Justin feels that spelling is wrong and offered “aaieyl.”  Grace, meanwhile, is convinced that both are wrong and that it should be “awl.”  I’m still trying to figure out how I think it is properly spelled so if anyone from my beloved SNL is dumb enough to read this, A, my mother thinks I should write for you (but her opinion doesn’t count because I’m her only child and like all Jewish parents, she secretly thinks I’m the Messiah) and B, (and more importantly), can I get the correct spelling, please.  Thanks, y’all!

It should be noted that  while writing about this, I came to the sad, and overly disturbing realization that is the tenth time I have mentioned the beloved Queen of Butter and the third time in 2012 alone!  All I can say about this is “Hot booter ‘n’ oil [since the correct spelling yet to be determined, I will be using the actual English spelling of oil], y’all!”

Moving away from “hot booter ‘n’ oil,” Spring Break was nice, until I woke up 48 hours after arriving in Palm Beach sniffling like a teenage girl watching “The Notebook” (which, for the record, is a movie you couldn’t pay me to see).  The only difference was that I wasn’t watching anything depressing.  Now, I will not come out and say that I had a cold because I had dinner reservations every night and like hell was I staying in to eat a baked chicken from Publix!

So what did mother and I do once we dropped off our Lady Madonna at the airport on Sunday?  We took two of the three free movie passes some moron gave him and drove down to Boca, Land of the Jews, to see the other Madonna’s new movie, “W.E.,” the movie about the love affair between the Duke and Duchess of Windsor while showing the blossoming love affair between a married woman named Wallis (because her mother and grandmother were obsessed with a woman who looked like a man and nearly brought down the entire British Monarchy; that right there is what I would like to call a great role model) and a security guard at Sotheby’s in 1997 during the historic auction of the personal items belonging to the Duke and Duchess of Windsor.

If that doesn’t make sense to you, don’t worry because the movie doesn’t make any sense at all either.  Sadly, the trailer makes it look half decent, but in reality, I actually left that theatre thinking one thing: I would like my free ticket back!  Madonna, just go into retirement.  The music career is over (I think the Superbowl Halftime Show confirmed it since you’ve now joined the league of such illustrious performers as Ashely Simpson and Kid Rock), you haven’t acted in ages; just let the 80, 90s and early 2000s music you made define your career.

Harvey Weinstein, as much as I have enjoyed many of your films over the years (I even bought an Adult ticket to see some of them, including my favorite movie of 2011, “The Artist”), I cannot believe you associated yourself with this overly confusing, poorly-made, recorded nightmare.  I would call it  a film, but that wouldn’t be fair to actual directors who know what the hell they’re doing!

Aside from visiting old Palm Beach restaurant favorites, mother decided that since I’m of legal age, it was finally time for her to do what she has wanted to do for years and that is go to get drinks before dinner at restaurants and hotels all over the island.  See, aside from mother and I, no one in our family really drinks alcohol, aside from the occasional glass of wine with dinner so there has never been anyone who has wanted to go with her before me and hey, I wasn’t paying!

The Tapestry Bar at the Breakers is one of the most magnificent rooms in the world.  There will never be rooms of that scale and grandeur ever built again and to be able to experience even a taste of what it was like back when Henry Flagler’s hotel was a second home to everyone who mattered for decades is just remarkable.  Plus, they have a Happy Hour from 17h0-19h0.  Mother and I each had a glass of wine, plus the trio of dips to go with the chips that accompanied our drinks (the Port Wine Pommery was our favorite because of its very subtle taste and smooth texture) was less than $20, including gratuity.  And they validated the parking ticket!  For Palm Beach, that is a bargain, people!

For non-hotel bars, we preferred Buccan, which is right on County, across from the one gas station left on the island.  We’d never been before (because some people don’t like to try new things anymore) and decided to give it a shot.  I’d heard that it’s more of a place to go for appetizers than it is for dinner and so we sat at copper-plated bar tables that glistened just like a freshly-polished copper pot.  Again, Happy Hour exists in Palm Beach, which is odd because one would assume that every hour in paradise is happy.   In addition to a glass of wine each, we shared the featured cheese and the prosciutto & fontina arancini, which I really enjoyed.

What I enjoyed even more though was knowing that I’m not the only guy who has to put up with his mother constantly trying to take photos of her “baby.”  Two bar tables away from us sat a guy about my age, maybe younger, with his very thirsty parents who did what mother loves to do more than anything else: take embarrassing photos of young adult sons in restaurants with the flash.  Do y’all know how annoying that iPhone flash is?  I swear, I hate the flash, so when we were in Florida this time, I just started carrying my Leica around with me because I’ve come to the conclusion that if someone is going to be taking a photo of me, it’s gonna be taken with a real camera!

The highlight of the trip for me, though, was not having cocktails every night before dinner, but it was our final evening when we dinnered at Palm Beach’s newest restaurant, Imoto, a sushi bar with a limited Asian-inspired cuisine menu located right next door to Buccan.  Despite probably belonging more in South Beach than in Palm Beach, a place that kind of shuns change of any kind, especially pennies because nothing in Palm Beach has ever required the need to even contemplate using a penny, Imoto is capturing a market that until now has been dominated almost exclusively by restaurant-turned nightclub after 22h0, the always popular Cucina Dell Arte.

Aside from not having a website as promised on the business card and matches, Imoto’s only flaw is that it’s only open for dinner.  If they opened for lunch, that stupid Pizza al Fresco off of Worth Avenue would finally realize that you can’t charge $20 for a salad and not have service to match it.  My only complaint with the dinner itself was that I would have preferred that the rice on top of which my fillet of beef was placed was a bit too spicy for my liking.  That, and we didn’t get the orange slices like everyone else at the end of the meal.  Mother’s rock shrimp tempura with spicy aioli sauce, which was not spicy at all (thank you very much), was so good the next morning cold before we left for the airport!  The non-spicy, spicy aioli sauce gave it this invigorating kick that just took the overall flavor to a whole new level!

I highly recommend this place, but warn that if you happen to be over the age of 47, don’t be there past 21h0 because you will definitely be the oldest person in there.  This might be the only restaurant in Palm Beach that won’t have a single customer on ventilation and that is impressive!  In my opinion, Imoto might just be the new Cucina becuase it’s hip, it’s fun, the food is amazing, and most importantly, I wasn’t the youngest person there!

Mother’s highlight was a bit different from mine.  She and Jean went to a charity luncheon at Mar-a-Lago for the American Humane Society because of a dog dressed in a pink gown and wearing a tiara.  I’m not making this up.  This year, the society was honoring Candy Spelling with their humanitarian award in recognition of her philanthropic efforts.  Sadly, I think Princess Zelda, the tiara-wearing dog, got more attention because well, it’s a dog wearing a dress and a tiara vs. a woman who had three gift-wrapping rooms in the house she finally sold after being on the market for over two years.  In all honesty, I’d being paying more attention the dog too.

Meanwhile, Andrew spent his final Spring Break on the Coast (I love saying that) doing whatever it is people in LA do.  The high point of his trip came on the flight back, though, because Andrew was seated across the aisle from legendary actor Sam Waterston, better known as District Attorney Jack McCoy from Law & Order.  Yes, cue the music:

Now, of course, because it’s Andrew, he refused to just make my life complete and casually make that infamous noise in Mr. Waterston’s presence during the plane’s descent into JFK , but he did tell me that he watched an episode or two of the show, so I guess he gets something for doing that.

Back in Florida, Justin, who continued to remind me over Spring Break that some people don’t get a week off for Spring Break anymore, to which I should remind him that he volunteered to graduate a semester early so it’s his own doing, is moving.  He’s leaving his apartment not far from the Rollins campus and heading to a new apartment near my beloved Whole Foods in Winter Park.  This was where I developed a disgusting obsession with the two-bite brownies, which I then topped with Betty Crocker vanilla frosting using a knife I took from the prepared food section.  It was so delicious, eating from a trash can after discarding the evidence in an effort to stop inhaling anymore of them.  And don’t judge because this is something that happened in college and everyone does some weird stuff in college!

Back to Justin, his move-in date is on April 22nd, when the average daily temperature will be 84°F, so you have fun with that one, Justin!  He realized it was time to leave his current apartment, which he has had since this past summer, because the cinderblock chic decor that was provided for him and the noise from the house parties his college student neighbors make nightly was too much for him to handle.  Having stayed there, I’m just so thrilled to see him leave that dump and move into a place more fitting with the 21st Century.  I say this because in his on-going efforts to pretend like it’s 1975, Justin lacks something even my 90-year old grandparents have: internet access!  Justin, the 21st Century can’t wait to see you again.

In a more serious note, today marks the 12th day since Justin smoked his last cigarette, cigar or pipe which is very impressive, especially since he’s too cheap to buy Nicotine gum or patches!  I’m so proud of you, Justin, but at the same time upset because now I actually have to put thought into your graduation present!

Finally tonight, before I head to a “I’m Not Irish and Therefore Not Celebrating Tomorrow” party, I whipped out the Leica and took some photos of my dog, Buddy, when I was home last weekend before returning to Charlottesville to prove to Andrew that I do in fact use my new camera.  However, His Royal Buddness (which is a name to which he will respond) is useless.  Out of about 45 photos, maybe ten came out well because he refuses to stay still.

I would like to note that I’m fully aware that everyone who has a dog is convinced that they have the cutest, most handsome dog to have ever been brought onto the face of the earth, but I’m just saying that HRB looks like the cutest dog on the face of the earth in these photos.

Look at that 11-year old puppy!

He gets away with murder because of this face.  I would pay millions to learn how to make it but he’s stubborn and refuses to tell me.

Alright, I’m off to go die of heat stroke here in Charlottesville while trying to imagine the same temperature with a breeze from the Atlantic Ocean in Palm Beach.  It looks like this:

Until next time…

-JD

The Academy Better Give That Dog From “The Artist” Something Tonight

I know that Uggie wasn’t nominated for anything, but tonight, when Meryl will win her third Oscar and they’ll no doubt have to rename the damn statue in her honor, someone needs to give that dog an award.  I’m sorry, but Uggie was the best part of the movie and if it wins best picture tonight, which it should, Uggie better get to walk off with his new golden bone in his mouth!  Yes, the time has come once again for us to gaze down on Hollywood and remind ourselves that we have nothing better to do with our lives than to watch a four-hour broadcast that celebrates the acting, directing, producing, costuming, music, etc… of the people who make movies.

For the record, Andrew doesn’t want Meryl to win because he wants Viola Davis to win, which I get, but I think Octavia Spencer did a better job out of the two of them and she’ll obviously win for best supporting actress so it’s all okay.

Now while many people feel that the Oscars are going to be nothing but four dull hours that should redone to be more like the Golden Globes because then everyone will be very drunk and prone to saying some more entertaining things, I love the Oscars.  I’ve always enjoyed hearing about all the movies I didn’t see the year before (though this year is different because I saw almost every movie except for “The Descendants” because it looked horrible and “Albert Nobbs” because I’ve been a little busy).

My only problem with the Oscars is that in the Academy’s ongoing desperate attempt to attract a younger audience, people who have no right being at the Oscars are invited to attend.  They include people like Justin Bieber, Zac Efron, any cast member from one of the “Twilight” series, and anyone with the last name Kardashian.

Anyway, I’ve got to go so I can do a little work before the show starts, so until next time (from sunny Palm Beach)…

-JD

Post Oscars Update: Turns out, I was right as to who would win (better luck next year, Andrew) and I would like to take this opportunity to thank Grace for putting up with me on Facebook Chat for almost the entirety of the Academy Awards.

I Have Discovered Something Even Paula Deen Hasn’t and It Involves Bacon

On Friday night, I went to dinner at Brookville Restaurant here in Charlottesville not really expecting to have anything beside a simple dinner that wouldn’t even be worth mentioning to anyone.  However, it would be a shame to not talk about what I ate for dessert.  Yes, my roasted flank steak was delicious and cooked perfectly and my glass of 2009 Xavier was so smooth and perfectly spiced; the cornbread was…well I’ve had better (it fell apart the second I touched it).

However, the reason I’m going back is because of one thing: Bacon, Chocolate Chip and Heath Bar Cookies with a shot of milk!  Yes, bacon INSIDE the cookie!  It was a moment of euphoria made even more wonderful because I didn’t have to share with anyone!  And it wasn’t just some bacon bites that were sprinkled into the dough.  Oh no, there were delicious pieces of bacon inside each of the five cookies on the platter; I could feel my teeth sinking into crispy bacon that was partially covered in chocolate and while already a huge fan of the salty-sweet dessert combination, but this taking that to a whole new level!  These five, very tan (yes, I’m using the word tan to describe a cookie) circles of joy melted in my mouth; they were so warm that the bottom of each cookie had that buttery feeling they have that leaves a little stain on the piece of parchment paper on which they’re baked.  Yes, I know I’ve devoted 250 words to a cookie, but this was unlike anything I’ve ever had before in my life!

Trying to move on, I finally got my Birthday present from Mother and Scrooge (four months late, but whose counting?) and here’s what I know: it has a lot of buttons that make absolutely no sense to me!  And Justin’s response to this is that I should have gotten a simpler camera, but it’s just so much more aesthetically pleasing to look at in contrast to some of the other cameras out on the market today.

Yes, I’m admitting that I bought a camera simply because I thought it looked nice.  Look, I like to take a pretty picture, that’s it.  I will never even try to act like I’m the next Henri Cartier-Bresson; I simply want to take a decent photo and as much as I love and adore my Konica Minolta, I want better quality photos.  That, and I’m sick of Andrew calling me out for having a camera made by a company that no longer makes cameras!

My new Leica X1 arrived when Mother and Scrooge came to visit at the beginning of the month for his birthday.  On that Sunday that they were here, we drove about an hour away from Charlottesville to the town of Orange to have brunch at the Inn at Willow Grove.  It was beautiful to say the least, but what I had for brunch was so good, I’m actually salivating at the very thought of it!  I had what was described as a French Toast Brick!  That was the most beautiful, most delicious brick I’ve ever seen or had in my life!  It was coated in a layer of sugar and accompanied with mascarpone cheese, blueberries, the most decadent maple syrup I’ve ever had, and bacon.  I finished it so quickly that Mother only got half of one bite!  Needless to say, I cannot wait to go back there.

As much as I love my new Leica, Grace and I really love the piece of software that accompanied it: Photoshop!  Finally, after years of bad hair, bad teeth, poor lighting, you name it, I can finally show photos of certain member of my family that haven’t been seen by anyone else in years!  Now, of course, because my life just happens this way, it didn’t come with the “right” version of Photoshop, according to Andrew and Justin, who of course have the $999 version I apparently need to have.  Fortunately, there’s a $199 student price that I might end up getting when my 30-day free trial ends.  But I already know that the second I buy it, Andrew, like he just did when I told him I signed up for Netflix on Friday, will tell me not to keep it because there’s something wrong with it even though he has been telling me to get it for months.

Speaking of Andrew, I’ve come to the realization that he and I have something in common with Oprah and her best friend (and much more entertaining person), Gayle and that is that while Oprah just did the shows and never watched them, Gayle was just like every member of the audience; she watched the show and tuned in to see it every day even if she was on that day’s show.  Well, I am Gayle and Andrew is Oprah.  He would rather watch a show months before it airs on a DVD and know what happens before anyone else whereas I am the ultimate viewer; I follow shows on Tweetie Bird, I do my homework during the commercial breaks.  There is something about the experience of watching the show on TV with the rest of the country that can’t be replicated on any early copy release on a DVD.  This became most obvious a few weeks ago regarding the show I have declared to be the most intriguing show of our time, Downton Abbey.

Andrew doesn’t understand why I haven’t just watched the DVDs of the original ITV show to see what happens instead of having to wait until tonight to see what happens with Lady Mary and Matthew.  I, on the other hand, have never been this excited about Sunday nights in my entire life!  OH MY GOD!  The suspense is killing me!  First, he was told he would be incapable of activity of any kind below the waist, then he started feeling “tingly” feelings down there and then he starts walking again!  And of course, the second the feet (and other things) start working again, the Dowager Countess immediately starts pushing Lady Mary on Matthew just like any good and proper Jewish Grandmother would!  And then Lady Sybil with the chauffeur!  In an understatement, I was plotzing when he burst into the salon before dinner (wearing a day suit, no less) and broke the news that they were in love and moving to Dublin, not caring about losing all her money and worldly possessions!  Do y’all wanna know why she didn’t care about losing her money?  It’s because she has no concept of what things cost!  I can’t wait to see how she turns out in Season Three (which started filming just a few weeks ago!).  Then, that… thing, Lady Edith.  Well, let’s be honest, no one really cares about her anyway.  And the plotting to get rid of cousin Isobel is the best part of the show; I’m completely for sending her back to whatever hell hole she came from!  I mean really, offering up a house that isn’t even yours to be used as a nursing home!  That’s almost as tacky as Mr. Pamuk dying in Lady Mary’s bed after taking her virginity, if not solely for this line:

And of course, one can’t forget Mr. and the new Mrs. Bates!  And the newly departed maid’s attempted romance with his Lordship (scandalous!) or O’Brien’s sudden change of heart over her Ladyship.  Thomas, however is the one person I think we’d all like to see just go somewhere (like back to playing with the overly hairy chest of Duke Crowborough) and never return!  He deserved to get taken for all his money regarding that beyond stupid deal he made with the black market grocer!

As y’all can see, I am OBSESSED with this show on a slightly disturbing and possibly unhealthy level, but it’s simply unlike anything else being offered on television today in our world of Snooki and Teresa Guidice.  Andrew thinks I’m insane because I could already know how the season ends and not have to wait just a few more hours to find out.  Sadly, Andrew just doesn’t understand.

Well that’s all for now because I’m off to go play in the snow that has been falling for the last few hours and then get ready for the season finale of Downton!  Until next time…

-JD

Turns Out iTunes Paid Attention to the Requests I Made

It is rare that I ever openly discuss my music preferences, generally because they’re so beyond unusual it’s not even funny.  For example, I purchased, in this order, a Marvin Gaye song, a piece by Yo-Yo Ma, then something by M.I.A., followed by the Black Eyed Peas!  Fewer than ten people have ever even seen my entire iTunes music collection it’s that private of a thing for me.  However, for years I have been begging the folks at iTunes to please just let me have one of my all time favorite songs available for purchase and it turns out, they granted me that wish in November and I just never noticed!

Bob Seger is just… “Old Time Rock and Roll” is without question one of my favorite songs of all time, and not because of that one scene in Risky Business (that movie is not okay, I’m sorry; Tom Cruise shtupping on a flight of stairs is something I could have lived multiple lives without seeing).  It turns out that the “lovely” folks at Apple finally convinced Seger, who it appears is incredibly stupid when it comes to making money, to agree to have his music sold on iTunes and I’m just so excited that I bought the whole album just now!  I rarely buy the whole album. Okay, I have to get back to reading examples of “obscene” literature that is supposed to be about censorship, but has so far only dealt with pornography.  Until next time…

-JD

Seeing as I already pay for the media upgrade on WordPress, I might as well share some of my favorite Bog Seger songs.  And for the record, Grace, this is not country music!

“Old Time Rock and Roll” requires no explanation at all.

“Hollywood Nights” is one of two songs I’m going to play when I am eventually forced to visit LA.  The other song is “I Love L.A.” by Randy Newman.  I’m sorry, but no one LOVES L.A.  They merely like it when their career is on the up and up!

“Night Moves” is a song I could have sworn Rod Stewart sings, but apparently I’m wrong.

“You’ll Accomp’ny Me” could have been spelled properly, but that wouldn’t be the Classic American Rock Song thing to do.

“We’ve Got Tonight” is another song I thought Rod Stewart sings.  I just checked to see how many Rod Stewart songs I actually own.  The answer is ONE: “The Way You Look Tonight.”  I’d apologize to Rod, but you know, I don’t think he’d really care.

“Like a Rock” reminds me of all those failed attempts by Chevrolet to get me to buy a truck.  Hey, at least I bought the song, right?

“Katmandu,” which is a place I actually want to visit if not exclusively because of this song.  And if you don’t know where Katmandu is, don’t worry, I Googled it for you.  It’s the capital city of Nepal (which is really spelled Kathmandu, but we’ll let it slide).  And if it’s not the capital of Nepal, then it’s the name of a sporting goods chain in Australia (also spelled Kathmandu).  If it’s referring to the latter, I already wasted an obscene amount of money on camping gear from when I was a Boy Scout, and yes, I was a Boy Scout.  That’s such a strange fact about my life that there are times in which I don’t even believe it!

Why Justin’s Father and I Have to Learn to Say Something Different After We Say “Hello” on the Phone

When I was staying in Winter Park with Justin just before coming back here to Charlottesville, we were sitting at brunch and his father called.  While the conversation wasn’t on speakerphone and I could actually hear what his father was saying, Justin’s facial expressions and his very drawn-out response said it all. His father, like my own President Suharto, had but only one thing to ask: Have you found a job yet?

So naturally, I began asking Justin that very same question when he would call me and it was fun while it lasted because now, he has an answer that isn’t no.  Yes, Justin, college graduate, has found a job to hold him over until he hurries up and applies to law school.  He’s working as a  clerk for the bankruptcy division for the law offices of Jew, Goyim and Goyim down in Hotlando.

For reasons that only he and people over the age of 70 understand, Justin finds the deathly summers of Central Florida to somehow be relaxing and enjoyable.  Personally, the thought of potentially bursting into flames from the record heat doesn’t do much for me.  But hey, Justin also wants to see the re-release of Titanic in 3-D, so he’s a free spirit anyway.  Free spirit sounds so much better than “unique individual,” doesn’t it?  Well, I guess free spirit would really be applicable if Justin were going backpacking through Bhutan before taking yoga in an ashram in India, but he’d never do anything like that, so I guess he really is just a “unique individual.”

The real issue now, however, is not where Justin is going to live (as charming as Winter Park is, where he is currently residing is basically off-grounds housing for Rollins students and the Thursday-Sunday non-stop partying isn’t conducive to a working person’s lifestyle), but rather what on earth are his father and I going to ask him when we call him from now on?  After all, it’s far too early to ask if he’s made partner (seeing as that requires a law degree, among other things) or if he has his own office with a secretary, so I just… I don’t know what we’re going to be able to say to him from now on.  In any event, mazel to Justin, our little graduate all grown up!

Well now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, after months of waiting while being told not to expect them to arrive from numerous, unnamed sources, what has to be the greatest gift of all time finally arrived at Grace’s doorstep on Tuesday!  Inside the FedEx box, wrapped warmly inside their shoe bag was the gift that had been promised me a year ago by Princess.  Yes, I’m making this big of a deal out of a single pair of shoes, but these are not just any ordinary shoes!  These shoes can actually talk on my behalf!  That’s right, I’m talking about the College Slippers from Stubbs & Wootton:

Now, I’m told that this is one of the last pairs of the College Slipper that was done in the linen; they’re usually a black velvet with a red U instead of this pair, which I feel will somehow get more use.  The big question is where in the hell does one where a pair of shoes like that?  It’s not as though one can wear them on a regular basis (because they don’t exactly feel comfortable enough to be everyday walking shoes) and there are no doubt certain situations when wearing them will not be acceptable, such as when out to dinner with one’s parents.  Regardless of where (and when) they’ll be worn, I can’t thank Grace enough for this gift!  She got me what I always wanted!

Meanwhile, Andrew insisted (to put it mildly) that I see the movie Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, the “not a 9/11, 9/11 movie.”  Well let me tell y’all, IT’S A 9/11 MOVIE!  That’s the first thing that was wrong with this movie.  Julia Roberts should have played the part of Linda Schell, not Sandra Bullock; Oskar, the main character (played by Kids Week Jeopardy winner, Thomas Horn, age 14, meaning Jeopardy might survive longer than one would have ever expected), should have been seeing a therapist, not to mention the fact that he should have had more adult supervision!  I don’t think I’ve ever been this upset about a movie in my entire life, and while I get that movies like this want the viewer to leave feeling somehow effected by what has just been viewed, but I left feeling angry at how insensitive Oskar was acting throughout the movie.  Yes, he lost his father, but he left his mother to grieve all on her own without any sort of help, instead telling her he wished she had died in the towers instead of his father!  AND WHAT KID IS AFRAID OF A SWING SET?  And as a side note, there were scenes that showed taxis in the background that weren’t introduced until 2005, and unlike that one scene in The Queen where the modern cars can be seen in the background while the Jaguar is driving on the M4, I noticed this the first time!

To make up for the horrible movie experience I had with Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, my friend Lindsay and I went to see the completely outrageous and over-the-top Joyful Noise, staring Queen Latifah and the Queen of plastic surgery (sorry, Joan Rivers), Dolly Parton!  Now aside from the fact that this movie is just under two hours long and the overly dramatic family drama associated with Queen Latifah’s character, Vi Rose Hill, the movie is surprisingly wonderful!  Between the young choir love, the music, the more mature choir love, “tap and die,” and Dolly having a shotgun in the vestibule of her home, I loved it!

The other thing that made this movie was the audience, which was half middle-aged white people who have probably visited Dollyland more times than I’ve been to the Preakness (22 times, if you count the mother being five months pregnant with me race in 1989) and then you had the black ladies who sang along like it was the Mamma Mia Sing-Along re-release and provided a great deal of very humorous commentary.  We sat in the middle of the theater so we could get the best of both.

Besides, I don’t get the opportunity to hear such exciting music at temple, where the newest songs were written a long time ago, BC, and don’t have as much energy and excitement as it seems gospel churches have.  Also, Lindsay and I have decided that we’re now going to go to one of these church choir competitions because they look hysterical, but of course we’ll be going for purely academic research!

Finally tonight, before I stop so that I might devout my full attention to Downton Abbey, today’s “36 Hours” column in the Travel section of the Times, took place in Birmingham, England.  Now, I’ve been to Birmingham myself and I can say that unless they’ve made some serious improvements in the last ten years since I was there (for no more than one day, I might add).  The Birmingham I saw was extremely dirty and reminded me of the images of England during the riots and strikes of the 1980s.  Shurato had a conference to attend in Birmingham and Mother and I traveled along; we stayed about an hour outside of the city in the most picturesque hotel on earth, The Mallory Court, and on the one day we ventured into Birmingham, all we seemed to see was a British equivalent of the Baltimore ghetto, but with a Bank of Pakistan.

The place where the conference took place was in a part of the city that had been extremely gentrified to the point that it was surrounded by a recently-constructed fortress wall.  The Hyatt Regency connected to the convention center didn’t even have a gift shop!  Graffiti was on all the buildings and it was truly like entering another world.  Apparently, The Times saw a side of Birmingham that we either failed to see or was built within the last decade.

Alas, time to finish watching my beloved Downton, so until next time…

-JD

How Are People Surprised That Paula Deen Has the Sugars?

So as many of y’all may have heard, Paula Deen, a woman who no doubt uses butter in place of soap, sat down with Al Roker, not exactly the world’s skinniest person, to reveal that she has Type Two Diabetes on “TODAY” yesterday and well, let’s be honest, when you spend your entire day making such delicacies as Sweet Chicken Bacon Wraps, Cheesy Shrimp on Grits Toast, Deep-Fried Squash, and my personal favorite, The Lady’s Brunch Burger—a “hamburger” that Miss Deen recreates using two Krispy Kreme doughnuts in place of hamburger buns, among other things—it’s a miracle it took so long for her to realize she has Diabetes.

Of the entire six-minute interview that Miss Paula conducted, it was most entertaining to hear her say that she will continue to make the… whatever one calls Ultimate Fantasy Deep-Fried Cheesecake, but with smaller portion sizes.  Well isn’t that nice, she’s going to continue promoting death as a hobby!  Oh I’ll never forget the night I stayed in Savannah on my way back to Virginia from Rollins in May of 2010; my own little butterball refused to let us eat at her infamous The Lady and Sons Restaurant for two reasons: first, it has the worst ranking of any Zagat-rated restaurant in Savannah and secondly, the people leaving the Savannah dining establishment looked as though they have swimming pools filled with margarine.  Ah, memories…

Moving on, I stayed at Camp Justin last Friday night on before catching the Auto Train on Saturday and before we had dinner at Prato, which was absolutely amazing, we got drinks at Spice and well, I think we’re still confused as to what happened while we sat in the unseasonably cool weather.  So one minute we were complaining about how bad the service was and then the next, a woman who looked not unlike a fan of Paula Deen walked past with her cat on a leash; that was the most normal part about this scene.  The lady had the restaurant staff prepare her a bar table for two and then proceeded to not only place the cat in one of the chairs, but she then gave the cat a blanket and food and acted as if nothing was wrong.  Now I’ve got nothing against cats; Jean’s cat, Lily, even has a special place in my heart after spending a month with her when I lived with Jean, but this was just unusual.  I think it was the cat’s owner who made the situation so odd.  her eccentric behavior was just something one doesn’t see every day, I guess.

After brunch with Justin, I departed Sanford and arrived into Lorton on the Auto Train last Sunday afternoon after a slight delay due to a freight train ahead of us on the track and immediately upon detraining, I checked to see if there was room left on the train leaving that afternoon for Florida because it was cold, bone-chilling cold!  And so 36°F isn’t THAT cold, but when you’ve spent a month in a place where the coldest it ever got was 55°F, then yeah, it was a big shock!  Alas, I didn’t get on the train, even though there was in fact room, and now I’m back in Charlottesville, where my building decided it was time to repaint the hallways some rather unusual colors.  While some floors received very glossy versions of normal colors such as Royal Blue and some unique version of Camden Green, the floor that my friend Lindsay and I live on has been given two colors: a very glossy grey and then an equally-glossy TRAFFIC SIGN YELLOW!  Bad is one way to describe how it looks; I’m going to go with overtly grotesque and nauseating.

Unfortunately, something else tragic occurred while I was away, though this is rather serious.  Grace’s little maltese, Oliver North, passed away.  It was so sad to hear about this, especially since it happened over the holidays and while she still has Henry Flagler, things won’t be the same without Oliver.  I think I’ll most remember the time Grace and I sat in her truck in a parking lot with Oliver going between our laps as we drank Diet Coke (that’s all she had) and listened to some disturbing show on Cosmo Radio.  It will be hard to imagine life without Oliver lurking about Grace’s apartment or living in her purse, but I guess all good things must come to an end.

That’s all for now, but until next time from a very cold Charlottesville…

-JD

PS: I guess this quote I have from Grace on Facebook about Paula Deen might actually be true: “I think Paula Deen poops mayo.”

Ryanair Wants to Offer Adult Entertainment, Annie Leibovitz Prefers iPhones to Actual Cameras and Other News That Needs to be Shared

So I was reading the Times this morning in bed, which I feel everyone should be required to do on Sunday mornings by some sort of law, and I came across an article in the Travel Section, my favorite, which highlighted an issue I thought only bothered me: viewing seemingly inappropriate material… it’s about Ryanair wanting to sell in-flight porn.  Let me be perfectly clear right now and say that I have never and would never do something like that on a plane because that’s disgusting (and if you can’t wait until you get home to see graduates of the Hugh Hefner Acting School in action, then you and Tiger Woods have a similar issue).  However, the article did remind me of an issue I’ve had before on planes concerning watching movies that have some nudity in them or are a bit violent.  This first became an issue for me when I flew home for Thanksgiving during my first year at Rollins.  As y’all know, Winter Park, the charming, perfect-America town that just happens to have a college attached to it, is completely surrounded by the greater Hotlando area and so naturally there are more children on flights going in an out of Orlando International Airport than there are in other places.

I like to watch a movie on my iPod Touch when I fly and at the time of my first visit home that first year of college in 2008, I had the following options: The Queen, Something’s Gotta Give and The Thomas Crown Affair (1999, though I own the original on DVD).  Now of those three, only one of them contains no nudity or no profanity (which doesn’t matter since no one else can hear it).  So there I am seated comfortably on the aisle with no one in the middle seat and I’m watching The Thomas Crown Affair because it’s actually a great movie and there is a rather extensive sex scene-the movie is rated R-which I figured I could watch because no one was seated next to me.  Turns out, I had another viewing audience, the mother behind me, who somehow managed to tap me on the shoulder and politely asked demanded that I turn off my “pornographic movie” at once!  I have now seen The Queen at least fifty times and can basically recite the entire movie because it’s the only movie I have purchased on iTunes, aside from Whatever Works (which I can only watch when in a very specific mood), that is appropriate enough for me to watch with children around (because The Hunt for Red October is too violent according to another parent seated next to me on a flight to Florida in 2009).

While I think that what Ryanair’s CEO, Michael O’Leary, is insane for thinking that watching pornography on a plane is the same thing as watching it in a hotel room, I do think it’s a bit absurd that I’m not even allowed to watch a movie like The Hunt for Red October because it’s “too violent” for little children not seated next to me to watch.  Let’s think about this for a second.  I’m watching a movie on my iPod with the volume on a level that would make it impossible for someone else to hear and it is somehow going to terrify a child not sitting next to me?  I’m sorry, but network newscasts show more violent images than Alec Baldwin shooting a commie!  I get the nudity being an issue, but it’s a movie about a submarine during the Cold War.  I just… I don’t like this forced political correctness that’s been shoved down my throat by people I don’t know.

Moving on to other things, I saw the Brian Williams interview with Annie Leibovitz for Rock Center, which I think is a good show and much better than that stupid Dateline, and Miss Leibovitz made a comment that I found rather shocking  for a photographer of her caliber:

Vodpod videos no longer available.

I’m actually stunned by the fact that Annie Leibovitz would tell people to forgo an actual camera and just use the camera on the iPhone to take photos.  Yes, the iPhone takes lovely images, but they’re never going to be as good as those on a real camera, which is why I’m getting a real camera in a month when I go to Florida because I want a Leica and the Leica dealer here in Charlottesville only has vintage Leicas.  However, there is a dealer in West Palm Beach, The Pro Shop, which happens to be the first Leica boutique in America and so they will have my camera.  Going back to Annie Leibovitz, I just find it shocking to believe that she thinks that the someone should just get an iPhone instead of a real camera.  Now it’s about here that Andrew is going to call me to remind me that I bought the then-new iPod Touch last year because it had a camera, and while that is true, I still prefer the pictures I’ve taken from a real camera to the ones from my iPod.  And it’s here that Justin will be calling me to say that a Leica isn’t a good camera because it doesn’t do something or what not, but also because it’s not as good as his camera, which is older than he and I are.

Also this Sunday, the last before I get to play all of my holiday music (because I, unlike Walmart, Hallmark and Sears can wait until after Thanksgiving before I start thinking about Hanukkah and Christmas), I stumbled upon these two hilarious video clips for Macy’s featuring Martha Stewart and Donald Trump, respectively:

I cannot believe that these have been viewed so few times, plus the fact that Martha Stewart is in a fraternity house and talks about boys being naked just kills me every time.  As for el Donaldo, I’m not surprised in the least bit that he would have cookies with his face on them.

Finally, Grace’s Fascist landlady has finally decided that Grace’s range, which is missing two of the four burners because other apartments needed them and doesn’t even tell you the oven’s temperature, is no longer acceptable for anyone to use and is replacing it tomorrow.  This is momentous because otherwise, Grace’s food comes out burned.  It’s nice to see that it only took two and a half years for the nut to replace it.  At this rate, we will have graduated by the time she gets around to doing something about those holes in the floor next to the heaters.

Anyway, I’m off to write a paper about an infomercial’s impact on society in America, but we’ll talk before Thanksgiving.  Until next time…

-JD

The Rum Diary, Aging, My Rekindled Flame with the Ice Cream Maker, Andrew’s Sleepless Nights, and Justin Got a New Car

On Friday, I braced the unseasonably cold weather here in Charlottesville and went out to see the first movie I’ve deemed worth seeing since this summer, The Rum Diary with Johnny Depp, Aaron Eckhart, Michael Rispoli, Richard Jenkins, and the breathtakingly beautiful Amber Heard.  Based on the Hunter S. Thompson novel of the same name, the movie follows the life of “journalist” Paul Kemp (Depp) as he leaves New York and journeys to the less idilic 1950s Puerto Rico, which at the time was in the midst of some not so great relations with the US, but we don’t need to go into details.  In Puerto Rico, Kemp gets a job at the struggling San Juan Star and picks up a healthy-yeah, I think that’s the word I’ll use-appetite for rum, lots and lots of little bottles of rum.  While there, he falls for Chenault (Heard), the fiancée of Hal Sanderson (Eckhart), a wealthy, influential and a bit cocky American millionaire who plans to develop a virtually untouched island that the military is about to sell so his wealthy friends can have a place away from the chaos and bowling alleys (which I’ve been told are no longer all the rage).

Kemp’s infatuation with Chenault leads to a most interesting and rum-filled story of corruption, racism, a wild night in St. Thomas, sex, and a bizarre Hitler connection that sadly not too many people seemed to have enjoyed.  That said, I found the movie intriguing and entertaining.  The Rum Diary, in theaters now, came in 5th place at the weekend box offices on its opening weekend.

So for some reason, this semester seems to be busier than any other semester I’ve had at college, hence I haven’t been writing as much as I’d like.  Since last chatting, I ended up receiving a second gift from Andrew, Assouline’s new book,”Maxim’s,” giving his gifts a French theme.  I also received the incredibly heavy “Tachen’s Guide to London” from Justin with a note saying that I’ll get a second part when I see him in December on my way down to Palm Beach.  Honestly, I’m terrified of knowing what that second part is.  Grace, who has recently decided that she wants to fly to Switzerland and attend a finishing school for a few weeks, which could be both interesting and highly entertaining to hear about, has been granted an extension, once again, since my late birthday/Hanukkah present from last year, also known as the greatest thing ever, has finally been ordered and will be in Charlottesville before Winter Break!

Grace serenaded me at Midnight while we ate dessert at the C&O restaurant in Charlottesville, which I feel we’ll be going back to simply for the late night menu they have there.  All in all, this birthday felt more mature and less juvenile as there wasn’t this sense that one has to drink to a near blackout state, which was nice.

In the two weeks following the celebration of my life, I’ve rediscovered the love I have for my ice cream maker.  Last year, I believe I used it a grand total of two times.  This year, I’ve used it about twelve times, with three of those twelve times in the last month and a half!  See, I bought the Sarabeth’s Bakery cookbook from Rizzoli, although I honestly have no recollection of buying it, and have yet to make anything that requires my mixer.  So far, I’ve made rice pudding (milk/heavy cream heaven) and butter pecan ice cream, which has to be the most amazing thing I’ve ever made!  I’ve also made chocolate sorbet and chocolate ice cream, but they were from François Payard’s “Epiphany.”  By the way, the chocolate sorbet left cocoa powder all over my kitchen (I found more three days ago) because instead of being a user-friendly container, the cocoa powder I bought comes in a box so it is absolutely impossible to get a measuring cup in it!  I don’t know why, but I just love having my ice cream maker more than ever.  This week, in honor of the fact that there are only twenty-three days until Thanksgiving, I’m making maple ice cream!  Sarabeth, on behalf of my soon-to-be-rapidly-expanding waistline, thank you!

While I’ve been eating way too many pints of homemade ice cream, Andrew has been losing sleep to the point of waking up in the middle of the night because he has been busy organizing a special screening of the upcoming movie, Grassroots, directed by Stephen Gyllenhaal, father of Jake and Maggie Gyllenhaal.  If you’re at Duke, or for some reason decide the Durham in November is just the place you need to be, it’s at 19h0 in the Bryan Center and is followed by a discussion with M. Gyllenhaal and his wife, Kathleen Man Gyllenhaal, who is c0-producing the film.  It sounds like fun and if I didn’t have a class at 9h0 Wednesday morning, I’d probably be going down to Durham (the things I do for my friends) as a way to escape from what will be way too many “Sleepless in Charlottesville” nights leading up to Thanksgiving, just without a cross-country romance and ice cream in place of Rosie O’Donnell’s character.

Finally tonight, Justin has gotten a new car!  This is car number three, though we can count it as two since the last one, a very used Volvo, isn’t worth remembering.  In a move that I never thought imaginable, Justin broke his rule of never even considering an Asian car (or box, whichever word you want to use to describe them) and got a new Hyundai Accent SE, which is… I’m not going to judge it until I see it in person in six weeks.  That said, I still like my little workhorse of an Audi!  It gets the job done and unlike everyone who has ever heard me sing, doesn’t complain when I do!

Well, after what’s been a crazy weekend with Halloween parties that we don’t ever need to discuss, snow blanketing the Northeast in October and the fact that I wore socks before mid-November for the first time since 2007, October seems to be going out with a bang and November is coming in for landing at Mach 2.0!  I believe that this clip of Michael Douglas as Gordon Gekko in Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps does a pretty good job at summing up what my month is going to be like:

Thanksgiving can’t get here soon enough!  Until next time…

-JD

PS:  This past Friday night was Global Champagne Day and so of course Grace and I celebrated!  Personally, I think we should celebrate this holiday more than just one day a year, don’t y’all?

Charlottesville Has No Soul Cycle, No High Line and No Shake Shack!

Well, this weekend marks the unofficial end to the Summer and well, as y’all can imagine, I’m not exactly thrilled to be back in Charlottesville.  Don’t get me wrong, I love Charlottesville, but in the two short weeks since being back at school, I’ve already read well over six-hundred pages worth of books and reading assignments!

So let’s be honest, going from a full-time internship to school is not easy.  When you go from having responsibilities, a busy life and Soul Cycle to textbooks, schedules from hell, stress, and whatever else you want to throw into the college equation, it’s not easy to immediately adjust.  To makes things worse, Mother and Count Dooku decided that they didn’t need to help me move into my apartment this year, so I don’t even have half of my stuff with me because my car can’t hold a whole lot.  Now, I was going to go home last weekend, but first there was that earthquake, and then that damn Hurricane Irene decided to ruin those plans.  So aside from five pairs of pants I had ordered over the 4th of July weekend, the only clothes I have with me are from my last week of work in New York and a few polo shirts I managed to grab out of my suitcase before driving up to Charlottesville.  I’m now going to be missing the first football game of the season tomorrow so I can drive home in twenty minutes and spend all of Saturday unpacking what I bring back.  I’ll just be glad to have all of my belongings back with me.

Speaking of Hurricane Irene, Andrew experienced his first hurricane while still in New York.  Unfortunately, all he got was some heavy rain and wind.  I know it’s not nice of me to wish a hurricane on someone, but I just wanted him to experience what I’ve gone through way too many times: the no power for eight days, cold showers, being forced to walk down your street because power lines and trees are covering the road, doing homework by candlelight/flashlight, and all those other fun things associated with hurricanes.  Of course, a lot of that would require Andrew to live in suburbia, but that’s just a minor complication.

As for Justin, I had the pleasure of seeing him my last night in New York.  We went to a terrific dinner at Il Posto Accanto, which is just the greatest Italian restaurant made even more entertaining by its neighborhood Italian restaurant atmosphere.  Personally, I’m obsessed, and have found myself longing for the Bistecca ai Ferri, which is grass-fed Black Angus Hanger Steak resting on a warm pumpkin farro with wine-soaked raisins.  After dinner, we headed uptown so Justin and Andrew could meet for the first time, which went surprisingly well, considering that Andrew was moments from going to sleep.  It was also when Andrew and I said farewell until December, ending yet another wild summer in the city.  It was such a treat to see Justin as well, since it would have been December as well before we’d get to see one another otherwise.

As anticipated, Grace was ready and waiting for my return to Charlottesville and things went more smoothly than last time in New York.  Now, I have to be honest, Thomas Jefferson might have been a brilliant intellectual and yes, the Declaration of Independence is a great document, Monticello is lovely and UVa is wonderful school, but that man was horrible at picking real estate!  It is deathly hot out here in the summer and I’m told it’s beyond freezing in the winter.  Oh, and these hills don’t do much to help.  Needless to say, I’m greatly anticipating Fall.

Now that Summer is drawing to a close, I thought it would be good to reflect on what will be my final Summer break before graduate school.  This is a terrifying realization, even though Summer hasn’t been a break for years.  The six weeks in New York this Summer were more of a preview of what life after college than the year before when I only worked three days a week.  Honestly, I enjoyed the work week and can’t wait to get to it myself.  I found an athletic activity aside from running that I truly enjoy and sincerely miss; plus, I finally made it to Brooklyn, so that made the whole six weeks right there!

Finally, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the BofA Intern brofest for helping to get me to kick my Starbucks addiction.  In the six weeks I was in New York, I only visited Starbucks twice: on my first day of work and one night with Andrew.  Well, that’s all for now, but I hope y’all have a good Labor Day weekend and until next time…

-JD

I Cannot Believe It Has Been Two Years

So two years ago today, I wrote my first posting, thus beginning this social experiment that I honestly never expected would last two years.  In that time, I’ve transferred schools, studied abroad, spent two unforgettable summers interning at two magazines (which have only been possible because of this blog), and have had experiences that I never imagined.  Hell, I went to Brooklyn two weeks ago, which I never thought I’d do (and y’all can read about just as soon as I find a second to finish writing about it)!

I’m so grateful that my three best friends Grace, Andrew and Justin have continued to allow me to include their lives in my writing (even if they insist upon reading what’s been written about them first).  They truly are my biggest fans and have encouraged me to continue writing.  To my readers: y’all are crazy for actually reading this, but thank you nonetheless.  That’s all for today, but I just wanted to mark the two year anniversary of this social experiment by thanking everyone who has read it and has encouraged me in this time.  Until next time…

-JD