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.”

In Memoriam

Last Wednesday, while I was busy interning here in New York, Grace said farewell to a dear friend.  Born Ace in 1998, Grace’s beloved horse, Lego, died at approximately 17h40 EST at the age of Thirteen after a long battle with arthritis.  Lego, who also showed under the names Allegro, Word Play and Renaissance, was a winner of over fifty blue ribbons during his career as a show horse.  Lego was also the first and only horse that I have ever ridden, so it is truly sad to know that he is no longer just a short, thirty-minute drive into a cell-serviceless part of Charlottesville, ready to prance around like a five-year old.

I remember when Grace told me she was getting Lego; she had just sent her previous horse, Tess, off to retire in Boca (no joke) and was all excited about this new horse that was about to arrive.  Lego was basically a person and for a time, he was without a doubt the only joy that Grace had in her life.  She would light up when she saw him and it was really quite sweet to witness in person.  Despite this loss, Grace says that she will continue to ride and show  because it is something that still brings her great pleasure.  In closing, Grace had the following to say about her beloved friend:

Despite all of his faults, Lego was absolutely the best thing in my life through some very hard times and I will miss him very dearly.

Until next time…

-JD

Apparently, My Bathing Suits Are Too Short For Suburban Housewives With Small Children

First of all, I’m back in suburbia and was just about to learn how to tie a noose  because it’s so boring here, but then Monday happened.  So I went to the grocery store to buy everything needed to make Ina Garten’s Flag Cake, which has a cream cheese frosting with which I’m not thrilled, and in honor of the unofficial start of Summer, I wore a very standard Palm Beach outfit for me which is just a bathing suit and a polo shirt.  Well some beyond incompetent mother had the nerve to come up to me and tell me that my Vilebrequin bathing suit (which was not cheap, I might add) was too short to be worn in a place with children and that she and “other mothers” found my rudeness to be insulting.  Somewhat confused, I simply looked at her, smiled and said, “That’s nice, but I don’t really care” before walking away.  I’m sorry, suburbia, but my bathing suit is only 2.5 inches shorter than standard “American” bathing suits (I measured).  It’s not like I’m wearing a thong/speedo (the whole Simon Van Kempen thing isn’t for me) and I’d rather have a shark eat my legs before I put on a pair of those extra-long boardshorts.  To say the least, it made for an entertaining moment.

So I have to say that it’s a bit weird to be back home, but only because when you go from being busy every single day to suddenly having nothing to do, it makes trying to even get dressed every day seem like a difficult task because there’s nothing I have to do aside from attempt to unpack.

So after arriving in Milan, I expected mother to meet me at our hotel, the Hotel Principe Di Savoia, but no, instead I was told to meet her on the Via della Spiga.

The hotel, which isn’t exactly in the middle of the city, provided a complimentary car to all of the shopping areas, so as if mother was waiting for me to show up.  I ended up with one thing, a safari jacket I had been looking at from Allegri since December.  It’s not a true safari jacket, but rather a safari-style rain coat that I got in a slate-color in an attempt to shake things up a bit in my closet.  I have to thank Justin for not only encouraging me to buy it, but for also getting me completely obsessed with the safari jacket look before everyone started doing them.  Also, I justified buying it (like I need a reason) because it’s replacing this rain coat I’ve had since the 9th Grade that is Burberry, reversible (navy one one side and nova check on the other) and just not for me anymore.  I wore that thing to the movies and treated it as more of a jacket than a rain coat.  And no, I NEVER wore it nova check out.  I’m not crazy or from Hollywood.  The funniest memory I have of wearing that jacket was the night Grace and I went to dinner and then the grocery store and I wore that jacket and she had on her Burberry nova check boots and people stared at us like we were that couple that matches.  I’m giving it to Mother who will also use it for trips to the grocery store and to the hair dressers.

Dinner our first evening was at a lovely restaurant on Corso Como, Alla Cucina delle Langhe, which is courtesy of mother’s seatmate on the plane-ride over to Milan.  Sadly, it wasn’t Snooki, but instead she sat next to someone named Patrick who works for Loro Piana.  And this being my mother, instead of asking for discount, she asks for restaurants in Milan.  I love her, but their cashmere sweaters cost over $600 and I would LOVE this half-zip one they have in burgundy so badly.

So Friday was probably the most amazing day of my life and mother’s life because we first began with the most amazing breakfast we’ve ever had in the hotel’s restaurant.  Then, following more extreme shopping on both our parts, we headed to the restaurant Paper Moon, which is right in the heart of the shopping district and a great place to unwind; it’s also a great place to do some people-watching, which mother and I could get an Olympic Gold Medal for doing.  We thoroughly enjoyed watching the caspian sea of Russian blondes stream in and out following a lunch consisting of three pieces of lettuce and two bites of a 20€ pizza.

After lunch, we high-tailed it past mother’s close friend, Muccia (and by close, I mean we went to every Prada in Milan) and decided to see the Last Supper, which was actually worth the pain of getting those tickets.  Though, I have to be honest, I kind of liked the fresco on the other side of the refectory a little better than Leonardo’s great masterpiece.

So as it turns out, right next to the Last Supper is this store I read about in Departures last Spring named Bernardini and I’ve been dying to go ever since I read about it so of course I schlepped mother there.  Bernardini is this vintage, luxury travel store and while we didn’t buy anything, it was fun to see everything they had for sale and in case anyone truly loves me, there is this Rolex in the window second window from the door that I’d love!  From Bernardini, we strolled around this very residential and less-touristy part of Milan before realizing that it was almost time for what will forever be one of the all-time highlights of our lives, the opera.

Now as many of y’all know, the Teatro alla Scala is without question the greatest theatre in the world when it comes to opera and when mother and I found two tickets available, we jumped on them before looking at the price.  We were in the front row, orchestra, therefore making me so close to the conductor that I kind of spent the majority of  Act One watching him sing than I did watch the stage.  We were at La Scala for the final night of the opera season and the closing night of Giacomo Puccini’s superb opera, Turandot.  Seeing “Nessun Dorma” be performed at La Scala actually brought tears to my eyes because my Italian teacher in prep school played Pavarotti’s rendition of it at least once a week for the two years I took Italian with her and it was just so breathtaking that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to properly describe the experience.

La Scala’s stage with the curtain being raised

I don’t think I’ll ever forget that evening for the rest of my life and I’m so grateful to my mother for not even looking at the price of those billets and just giving me her credit card number so we could buy them.  A side note to the folks at La Scala, it was so damn hot in that theatre that it made sitting in the Verona Amphitheater in the deathly heat of July so I could see the Barber of Seville tolerable!  Y’all need to get some air conditioning because I was beginning to schvitze by the end of the performance!

So meanwhile, Saturday arrived and we spent our final day in Northern Italy taking a “short” two-hour train-ride two stops from Venice to Vincenza.  Now the last time we spoke, I said that all there was to do in Vincenza was to visit the Bottega Veneta factory store but as it turns out, I was wrong.  Apparently, Vincenza is really known for the Palladian villas, and of course this would happen to me, but the most famous of the villas is the same one from which UVa founder Thomas Jefferson copied in order to design the Rotunda, so y’all know we went to see La Rotunda.

Let me say this, if anyone is dumb enough to let their mother convince them that Vincenza is a short train-ride away from Milan, don’t go.  And if you end up going, RENT A CAR!  It was so difficult to get to La Rotunda because mother just expects things to run very smoothly and effortlessly so clearly she hasn’t spent enough time in Italy to know that neither of those two things is possible.  We also visited the Teatro Olimpico, which was kind of a special place, but, and I feel bad saying this, it wasn’t La Scala.  It was my fault because I was still on a mental high from the night before so I didn’t really give it the attention it deserved.

Now don’t think for one second we came all this way and didn’t stop by to see the Bottega factory outlet.  Oh, we went and we didn’t even have an address to give the cab driver, but he knew exactly where we wanted to go.  The address, in case anyone wants to know, is Viale della Scienza, 9/11.  So here’s the thing, it’s nowhere near the city center and is really in the industrial part of the city, which makes sense since the Bottega factory is directly across the street.  Also, there wasn’t a whole lot that grabbed my attention, or mother’s for that matter.  At most, they had this one wallet, but considering all the damage I had done this semester, I figured I needed to start thinking about stopping.  Our dinner that night was courtesy of our hotel’s concierge and was so touristy that I won’t even bother mentioning it.

On Sunday, we took the train down to Siena so mother could see where I lived and spend some time exploring the city after we took photos of our hotel room in Milan because it was so stunning!  That bathroom had the most amazing shower of all time and I’ve told mother that I’m having that shower head installed in my bathroom at home.  Plus, I took this kind of neat photo in the bathroom of my watch:

In Siena, we ditched my dumpy apartment and headed instead for the Grand Hotel Continental, which was so much nicer than where I lived for the previous four months.  Our room was beautiful and had this amazing view of the Duomo:

I showed her all the sights and took her to a great little dinner not too far from our hotel that I frequented from time to time.  We went to Grom, where I had my final May flavor of the month.  On Monday, we visited the Duomo and strolled around the city before us and our seven bags (including mother’s purse) headed to the train station.

Now I love my mother, but the woman is useless at helping with the bags.  Normally, I’d accept this simply because she’s never helped before so why should she start now, but this time, it was a bit hard for me to manage them all by myself.  Once we arrived in Florence, I was ready to kill her because we only had a very short amount of time between our train from Siena arriving and our train to Rome leaving.  So when we went to board our train to Rome, I put her and her bags on board and then put my Ralph bag on the train before the big suitcases.  I asked her to just move the bag and she looks at it like it has some terminal illness and just taps the bag ever so slightly, but as if that thing moved.  In the meantime, a lovely line began to form as I struggled with my lovely seven bags.  At least someone took pity on me when we arrived in Rome.

When we arrived in Rome, we headed first to our hotel, the Hotel Slpendide Royal, which looked onto the Borghese Gardens, but was still just a block from the Via Veneto and only five minutes from the Via Condotti.  The view from where we had breakfast was so amazing as it looked out on this sea of green with the Vatican off in the distance.  Fortunately, both mother and I have done the major tourist sites in Rome so we had more time to do things we would have otherwise had to miss.

So I made the executive decision (because someone had to) that we would make Tuesday our shopping day and Wednesday our “cultural” day, even though members of my family believe that the Via Condotti is an historical site since both Bulgari and Buccellati were founded on that street!  In addition to shopping, I also took mother just three blocks away from the Via Condotti so we could visit my all time favorite gelateria, Giolitti.  I went four times over two days:

Tuesday night, mother wasn’t feeling too great so we headed to the nearby Via Veneto for a simple dinner and ended up at Ristorante Tuna, which was a lovely seafood restaurant.  I think we sat next to three members of the mafia however.  The restaurant had a very Upper East Side feel to it with a very Upper East Side kind of clientele, which was fine because let’s be honest, I’m a little Upper East Side boy and my mother doesn’t like to leave the Upper East Side when she’s in New York.

Wednesday, our last day in Italy, was spent doing a tiny bit of shopping for my aunt, but then we went first to see the Richard Meier-designed Ara Pacis museum, which was… interesting.  Ara Pacis was a peace alter built for Emperor Augustus  and located in his Campus Martius.  Unfortunately, I feel as though we were ripped off by the Italians because we paid about 15€ a person to just see the alter and nothing else because the other exhibit wasn’t opening until later in the week, but the space itself was simply breathtaking and the way Meier designed it to really focus all of the attention on the alter was just brilliant.  There was a great deal of natural light throughout the space the just made it this very calm and serene space that just happens to be in the middle of bustling Rome.  I mean, there’s a major road that’s right next to the museum, but you almost seem to forget it’s there because the space is just so peaceful.

From Ara Pacis, we then walked a very long way toward the Forum to get lunch at Tricolore, which was a really neat place with delicious sandwiches.  Despite being right next to the busiest tourist parts of all of Rome, the restaurant is in this neighborhood that is in a world unto itself.  There were very few tourists, simple shops, hairdressers; it had a very locals only feel to it, which is what I enjoy the most about any city because there are times when you need to escape the tour groups.   The place is so brilliantly designed because they have little sinks around the walls so you can come in, wash your hands and then sit at this counter that has ovens all around the base and order your sandwich or panino.  Raised in a vertical position around the marble counter are about eight, maybe nine ranges and you just sit there and order your lunch and Pellegrino and it’s prepared in the back, which you can see from where you’re sitting.  It’s very small and really designed as a take-out place, complete with take-out window, but they love having people stay for lunch, which we did.  I honestly believe it was one of the best meals I had in all of Italy and it was a sandwich covered in warm prosciutto on the most amazing bread ever!

After lunch, a very grumpy and gradually annoying mother and I took a taxi (because someone wore the wrong shoes) over to see the Borghese Gallery, which had been closed for the past fifteen years for a renovation/restoration project (which doesn’t surprise me because the Italians are well… slow) and had just reopened.  Well, a word of advice, book early and ladies, don’t bring a purse because they make you check them before you can enter; they give you a little bag which I had to carry that can hold your wallet, but that’s it.  It was a little strange.  Now, the galleries were lovely and all, but at the end of the day, 15th-18th century art isn’t really my thing because I’m more of a 19th-20th century art fan, plus Jeff Koons because I love those poodles and want one in my front yard.  That said, there were some lovely pieces and the building itself was an amazing space nonetheless.

After our visit ended, we strolled in the Borghese gardens for a while before getting ready for dinner, which proved my mother is insane.  So we had made reservations at this place that was kind of on the other side of the city so we take a taxi over there and she won’t get out of the taxi because “it looks creepy.”  This was because she didn’t see anyone in her age group there and there were only 20-somethings walking around.  So instead, we went to this other restaurant we had heard about called Cucina Roscioli, which was out of this world amazing!  It’s really a salumeria that happens to have a restaurant and so we sat next to a wall of wine and across from refrigerator cases filled with cheeses and meats.  As an added bonus, this guy who looked like an Italian version of Stanley Tucci was seated across from us and was staring at mother the entire time!  It was a great way to end our time in Italy and a phenomenal final meal in Italy.

Thursday Morning had us up and in the taxi by 6h0, so we missed breakfast.  Then, five minutes into the taxi ride, I realized I had left my iPod in our room so we had to race right back and retrieve it.  This was a first for me because usually I’m always on top of where everything I have is located.  From there, it was off to Fiumicino for the flight back to America.  Thursday also happened to be Andrew’s 21st birthday so as if I was going to pass up being in New York for that!  So, when the plane landed in fabulous New Jersey!, I put mother on the train to Baltimore and headed straight for Manhattan to celebrate his birthday with Maggie, Nathaniel, Caroline, and of course, Andrew at Café Gitane in the Jane Hotel.  It was so much fun and we had such a good time celebrating Andrew’s big day, even though he was on the tail-end of a cold and by the time dinner arrived, my body thought that it was 1h0 Friday morning!  I went to bed at what my body thought was 6h0 Friday morning and was up by 8h0, so I think that it actually helped my body re-adjust to EST.

Friday morning, following a little food shopping for mother and me, I hoped on the Acela with three enormous bags (I condensed since I knew it would just be me) and headed down to Baltimore for the Preakness.  Friday night was the traditional Chinese food dinner we always have and then Saturday, it was off to the Baltimore ghetto to go to the races.  I was in a so-so mood that day because my cousin and I got into a bit of a tiff and I just didn’t really have the usual excitement about being there that I’ve had in years past.  However, I ended up having a great day at the races because I broke with my usual “methodical” selection of the horses on which I want to bet and picked the winner, Shackleford, simply because I liked his racing colors.  I won $60 on one $5 bet, which was amazing and I ended the day making quite a bit of money, which was good for me.  As an added bonus, mother and I did something I’ve waited years to do and that was buy two Black-Eyed Susans, the official drink of the Preakness:

Since returning home, I’ve been struggling to dig myself out of the obscene amount stuff I have between the mail, the clothes and the stuff I bought, but I’m down to just one or two last things.  I’ve been baking, grilling and getting ready to head to Charlottesville for a month so I can take a fun-filled science course.  However, there was one event that occurred last weekend that I still can’t believe I attended.  So Grace has decided that since she can’t show horses anymore, she’s now going to compete in dog shows with the not-so-little Henry Flagler.  Y’all, I’ve never been to a dog show before so I had no idea what to expect when we arrived and so to say that it was a spectacle is like saying that the Real Housewives of New Jersey are completely normal people and that there’s nothing wrong with their trailer-park-trash lives.  This was just insanity at its finest.  We met a woman who has TWELVE Corgis and travels the country with her husband and daughter selling dog grooming supplies and showing her dogs; we saw just a whole bunch of crazies and I have to say, I almost stole four dogs.  Though at one point, Grace asks this lady with four King Charles Cavaliers where she got her crate for her dogs and I mentioned that the dogs were so well-behaved and she tried to sell me one.  At that point, I mentioned that my parents would kill me if I brought a dog home because we already have one and when I told her that Buddy was a (very expensive) mixed-breed, she turned around and walked away without saying another word!  I still love my cockapoo, even if he is a mixed-breed.  I just have to say this to Walter: Get Grace another horse because those dog show people are crazy and I miss the fact that I could look for a girlfriend at the horse shows; you can’t do that at a dog show because a lot of the people there lacked teeth!  Anyway, it was an experience that I will never partake in again.

Finally today, I guess the time has come for me to really look back on my semester and express my overall opinion on it.  In short, I loved Italy and being there and being able to explore it was just something I’ll never forget.  However, I picked the wrong program.  It was too small and there wasn’t really anyone with whom I really clicked.  Some of those girls were flat out rude to me, while others were nice to me, but not necessarily people with whom I plan on being life-long friends.  I tried my best to be friendly and go along with the group, but in the end, it was made very clear that I wasn’t really welcome so I did my own thing and had a great time.  No, I don’t regret going at al, however, Siena was always back-up since I couldn’t study in Paris due to having too many transfer credits from Rollins, so I didn’t really have the same enthusiasm I might have had if I had spent the semester in Paris, but oh well.  As I said, in the end, I had a great time in Italy, but just not with the people in my program.

Anyway, this officially concludes the travel guide only part of the blog and next week, I’ll be returning to writing about life and the crazies I call friends who are in it.  Until next time…

-JD

Meanwhile, Back in America…

Since I’ve been busy with homework, studying for midterms, writing papers, prepping for Spring Break in France (I leave Friday and cannot wait), and reading Tiger Mamma book, I haven’t done a lot of traveling these past two weeks aside from a day trip to Montepulciano.  So, I thought that it’d be nice to see what’s going on back across the pond in America.

Justin is a loser.  I’m sorry, but it’s true.  He spent his entire spring break at school trying to work on papers that probably aren’t due for another month.  While he does get some points for playing tennis and lounging by the Rollins pool, he’s still depressing in the fact that he did nothing while his beyond freakishly boring and slightly weird roommate from First Year (who wasn’t our biggest fan to say the least) managed to find friends and went with them to the Bacardi rum factory while on vacation in Puerto Rico (I love Facebook’s “Check-in” feature because now I can stalk on a whole new level).  But then I remember that Justin’s in Florida and as gorgeous as it is here in Italy, it’s currently 84° in Winter Park and our high here in Siena was only 58° today, and it rained on and off all day!  Justin’s response to what I told him I was writing about him was this, “My spring break was awesome. I partied with some fine people, and needless to say, my tan is much better than yours!”  It’s true, I’ve maintained my perfect pale skin tone while he’s managed to get a “tan.”

Grace, meanwhile, has been a busy girl.  Today, she took not-so-little Henry Flagler to compete in his first dog show, the International International Dog Shows 2011 Old Dominion Spring Sieger.  We’re very proud of HFW, who despite winning Best in Breed by default since he was the only one in his breed competing, came in second in Group.  Personally I think he should have come in First since he lost to a Neapolitan Mastiff, a grotesque looking dog who just looks mean and evil.  He competes in another show tomorrow and I know he’ll do great, so long as he doesn’t attack any of the other dogs, or worse, a judge.

Finally, on the coast is Andrew, who has cut desserts from his diet since unlike New York where one walks everywhere (and Durham, where everything he needs is generally in walking distance), LA is not exactly pedestrian-friendly and he’s afraid that he’s gaining weight by spending so much time in the car and not walking.  Although nothing will ever be able to keep me from a dessert, I respect this decision and applaud Andrew for his valiant effort.  He’s been in New York this week for his Spring Break doing something one would think he’d get to do in LA, going to the movies.  You’d think he’d want to do something else in New York besides seeing movies that are all playing in LA, but apparently not.

So Tiger Mamma tried to have a sympathy moment, but all that has quickly gone away by Chapter 22, which is where I’ve made it to as of now.  The sympathy moment comes when we learn that the mother of not-a-real-Jew husband, Jed, has been diagnosed with acute lukemia.  Chua writes of how this cosmopolitan woman went from the epitome of great health to death in such a short amount of time.  Chua insists that her mother-in-law, Florence, move into the family’s New Haven home and allows Florence and Sophia to plan the entire party for Sophia’s Bat Mitzvah.  Astonishingly, Florence requires a blood transfusion the morning of the Bat Mitzvah and manages to be there in time.  We barely made it on time to my Bar Mitzvah, or the Bar Mitzvah of my cousin Kevin and my cousin Holly’s Bat Mitzvah and we just had to wake up and get dressed!

Florence’s death leads to two beautifully written messages from Sophia and Lulu that were delivered at the funeral.  That ends the sympathy part of the book as Chua enters the super-insanity phase.  Chapter Sixteen’s title says it all: The Birthday Card.  I had heard that Chua rejects a birthday card from the girls before starting this book, but I didn’t think it would be as bad as it was.  Now, my mother has never rejected a gift I’ve given her; instead, she thanks me for it and then says she loves it, but the color isn’t for her and then exchanges it for the same item in a color she prefers.  Lately, I’ve gotten good enough at selecting gifts for her though that she doesn’t exchange anything.  Also, I never made her any stupid hand-made card; I us the one the store gives me.

Two chapters back in Chapter Fourteen, we learn of how when the family went on vacations around the world, TM brought Lulu’s violin and found Sophia pianos to play in every hotel.  First of all, thanks for bragging for an entire chapter about all the places you’ve visited and secondly, the fact that your kids can’t go a week without practicing is a bit excessive.  In response to her children complaining about having to practice while on vacation, Chua tells them, “Do you know what the Kims will be doing while we’re on vacation?  Practicing.  The Kims don’t take vacation.  Do you want them to get ahead of us?” (Chua, 88).  Then she has the nerve to call Sophia a concert pianist because she’s played in concerts; if I use her logic, I too am a concert pianist since I played the piano for seven years and “performed” at school recitals.

The music freak fest continues as TM announces that she’s going to basically turn these kids into professionals without  their consent.  Lulu has to apply for some program through Juilliard and Sophia is to compete to play in Carnegie Hall.  The amount of money they spend on tutors, lessons, driving across the state of New York with the tutors being paid by the hour for a lesson with some amazing person for Sophia, the money spent on getting Lulu a new, very expensive violin; it’s maddening!  In honor of Sophia’s performance at Carnegie Hall, Chua rents out space at the St. Regis Hotel for the night and went all out, very “Western” and not “Tiger Mom.”  Chua’s defense is that, “Some aspects of my behavior-for example, my tendency to show off and overdo things-are not characteristcis of most Chinese mothers.  I inhereted those flaws, along with my loud voice and my love of big parties and the color red, from my father” (138).  There we go, blame it on the father, how nice.

Well, I’m heading to bed because I’ve got two exams and an eight-page paper coming up this week before I get to fly to Paris, so until tomorrow…

-JD

To the People of Los Angeles: GET OFF THE ROAD!

I’m sure the lovely three million, plus legal (and countless more illegal) citizens of Los Angeles would like to know why I’m suggesting they stop driving altogether so suddenly.  Well, it’s because Andrew, someone who has said on countless occasions that driving is for other people to do for him while he sits in the back, is driving between the University of Spoiled Children and the land of the purse dog, expressionless faces and people made famous from sex scandals multiple times each week from now until May.  This is also scary for another reason: Andrew has only driven a few times (if y’all recall, I have let him drive my car on more than one occasion, but there were barely any other cars on the road and he didn’t drive on heavily trafficked roads).  To comply with that stupid hands-free law in Califronia (I’m sorry, but it makes us all look like we’re mentally unstable if we appear to all be talking aimlessly to no one), I’ve sent him my BlueTooth headset since I never use the thing and clearly won’t need it in Italy.  While in LA for the semester, Andrew is interning for ICM, a talent agency that represents such stars as Frank Langella, Beyoncé and Woody Allen.  The only problem I have with Andrew spending the semester in LA is that instead of being six hours ahead of him, which is what I would be if he were back in Durham, I’m now going to be nine hours ahead of the only person I know who actually gets eight hours of sleep at night.  Therefore, the only time we can talk is at the end of the day, which has already been an adjustment since he’s been in LA for two weeks.

Since our last “chat,” (I feel like that’s the write word to call these posts, since I do know most of the people reading them) I have left Florida, but not after some final moments of fun!  I made it down to Miami (yes Will Smith, in the city where the heat is on, all night on the beach till the break of dawn) to see my friend, Monique, after only three and a half years since last seeing each other, in Coconut Grove, where we had a great French lunch.  From there, it was off to the Bal Harbour Shops to pick up a little something “special” for Grace and a birthday present for Dr. No (of all the evil villain/Soviet Premier/Dictator names I have given him, that one is the most fitting I think).  Y’all, that place is just scary because while Palm Beach is just the land of the WASPS where Worth Avenue has all the glitz and glam of yesteryear with old money, Bal Harbour Shops screams “I just sold a kilo of coke and have to get the money out somehow so what better way than through Dolce & Gabbanna underwear and Prada suits.”  The people there don’t buy one thing at a time; instead, they take my grandmother’s rule of buying in bulk, which is done exclusively at Costco, to a level that is simply obscene.  Though the absolute highlight of the trip to Bal Harbour was when a five-year-old kid looked at my watch and went, “oh, that’s so cheap.”  It was a low point in my life knowing that a child sixteen years younger than I had a watch that was probably three times as expensive as mine, which was not cheap I might add.

Following that little arrogant child’s remark, I drove down to South Beach to spend the evening my Rachel, who was in town for the weekend with her dad and brothers.  While I already knew that one never has a dull moment when going out with Rachel, little did I know what would be in store for me.  First, we headed to the South Beach outpost of Danny Myer’s hugely successful Shake Shack.  We sat outside in the cool evening eating burgers and fries while I introduced Rachel to my love, Loni Love, on my iPod.  From there, we strolled up and down the always-exciting Lincoln Road and wandered into a rather eclectic vintage shop.  While there, Rachel tried on a very revealing (not sure if that’s the word that properly describes it, but that’s the word I’m sticking with) corset, while I tried on an old Burberry’s rain hat.  Then things got kinky when Rachel tried to get me to try on this:

In case you’re not sure as to what it is, let me fill you in: it’s a pair of leather shorts with zippers on either side of the crotch for “easy access.”  While the thought of wearing leather shorts was an immediate turn off, what really grossed me out was the fact that someone’s gentiles had touched that entire thing and that’s not exactly something I would want to put on, while still wearing my pants, and maybe a hazmat suit.

As the day in Miami came to a close, I was then faced with the realization that my stay in Florida was also coming to an end and the arduous task of returning to Virginia was fast approaching.  The question was how to get home because Dr. No was saying hell no to driving, mother was not prepared mentally to do the trip again and neither would allow me to do it alone, which is perfectly understandable.  So, my options were as follows: leave the Audi and everything that couldn’t fit into my suitcases and do the drive back to Virginia in May, convince mother that the Audi had to come home immediately and force her to take the drive with me or the hail marry pass: let me take the Auto Train (LINK) home.  Amazingly, she gave in and let me do the Auto Train, but only after going through a list of about two-hundred reasons as to why it’s not safe/why I’ll get shot onboard.  The list was so long that my initial departure date of Tuesday, the 10^th of January, was pushed back to Wednesday because a certain someone was going absolutely insane over the fact that I would even consider this option.  Yet, on Wednesday, the trip was approved and after a brief stop in Winter Park to see Justin and my friend, Jackie, it was a twenty-minute drive up to Sanford to board the train to Virginia.

Unlike traditional Amtrak trains, which could use a huge revamp in order to better compete with the great railways of Europe, the Auto Train is essentially its own separate railroad within the mighty Amtrak.  The people who work on the train only work on the Auto Train, the stations are exclusively for the Auto Train and the entire experience is one that can only be found on the Auto Train.  Despite being located in a rather grimy, somewhat dilapidated area, the Sanford departure point is actually very convenient because of its close proximity to Orlando.  Once you arrive, you’re car is issued a number which is used to identify it upon arrival in Lorton.  From there, it’s straight to the valet who takes your car from that point on while you and the two bags per person that you’re allowed to take with you head inside the recently renovated terminal for check-in.  They’re very strict about time and anyone not checked-in for the train by 15h0 is not allowed to board because they have to position the auto cars onto the track and connect them to the passenger cars for an on time departure.  I booked a roomette, which seats two people without a bathroom, but offers the privacy that an ordinary seat doesn’t offer.  Plus, with the roomette and cabins, you get a real bed at night to sleep in, which I was told means you actually get to sleep by my fellow passengers at the pre-departure wine and cheese tasting in the lounge car.  My sleeping car attendant, David, welcomed me aboard and showed me to my upper roomette and told me when dinner would be served.  Then, about ten minutes ahead of schedule, we pulled out of a nippy Florida and began our sixteen-hour, thirty-minute journey to Lorton, which is located in Northern Virginia.

About two hours into the ride, dinner was served in the dining car on china and white linen tablecloths.  I was seated with two other passengers in my car who were also traveling alone in roomettes and were much more experienced in traveling aboard the Auto Train than I was.  For dinner, I had the Beef Tenderloin with a baked potato and steamed vegetables followed by a massive chocolate cake with the biggest scoop of vanilla ice cream I have ever seen in my life.  While the food well exceeded all my expectations, the wine wasn’t exactly the greatest on earth.  In fact, I opted out of having any at dinner because I was so disappointed from the wine in the pre-departure wine and cheese tasting.  By the time I returned to my cabin, the sun had set and so I changed into my pajamas (yes, I wear pajamas) as we zipped through Georgia.  Unaware of the movie being shown on the train, I rented Annie Hall on iTunes, which was good because the projector wasn’t working that night.  Around 21h30, David came to make up my bed for the evening.  Just before closing my eyes, I remember peeking out of my curtain to see a sign that said Charleston, South Carolina on it.

Despite being a very smooth ride, I ironically woke up three times during the night because we had stopped moving; once because by law, the engineers can only work twelve hour shifts and had to be changed out in Florence, South Carolina of all places (so ironic because that’s where we usually stay when making the drive down), and the other two times because we had to let a CSX train pass (CSX owns the rail lines on which Amtrak operates in the South and therefore they have seniority).  At 6h15 and somewhere just outside of Richmond, the conductor made his first announcement saying that breakfast was being served on a first-come, first-serve basis and that we were an hour ahead of schedule.  The mood in the dining car was a bit more subdued than at dinner as not everyone was fully awake.

When I returned from my continental breakfast that included juice, coffee, assorted muffins/bagels, and cereal, my roomette was already made up for seating again.  I opted out of taking a shower as I didn’t have any shower sandals to wear, but someone with whom I sat at breakfast said it was very relaxing and kind of neat, which I imagine it is.  Then, at 8h30 on the dot, our journey came to an end as we pulled into the Lorton station.  Within a matter of minutes, the journey ended and I was faced with the fact that it was no longer 57 and sunny outside.  Instead, it was more like 29 and cloudy; I immediately considered just taking the train back to Florida and not leaving for another week.  But just as I thought of doing that, my car’s number was called and two minutes later, I was on I-95 South headed for home.

Despite costing around $400 with the emergency insurance, which mother insisted I have in case the people at the station seemed “sketchy,” the trip wasn’t that much more expensive than driving once you factor in the stops for food, gas and the hotel.  Plus, there’s much less wear-and-tear on your car and your body.  Looking back on the experience, there were a few things I will be doing differently this coming December when I take the train south this time.  For starters, I’ll pack much less food because Grace saw the wrong menu online and feared for the worst.  Next, I’ll have my bed made up earlier so I can get to sleep sooner because the train does lull you to sleep quite easily.  Next time, I’ll definitely bring my own travel pillow because the one provided by Amtrak was a bit too hard for my liking, and finally, I will definitely bring shower sandals so I can bathe while onboard a train

On the whole, the trip exceeded all my wildest expectations and was one of the most amazing experiences I have ever had in my life.  Everyone from David, my cabin attendant, to the server in the dining car who told a man at breakfast to eat more than a muffin because she was going to have to drive on I-95 as well and didn’t want him on that road without a real meal made the trip so memorable, as did the people I met along the way.  The conversations with these fellow passengers, despite their vagueness in order to not give too much of one’s personal life away to complete strangers, was genuinely interesting.  One of the two people with whom I had dinner told us about the log cabin he had built for his now late-wife and of the experience he had building it.  The other person at the table started us on a twenty-minute chat about our dogs and how we love them so.  Sure it was fluff, but it was interesting nonetheless.  I highly recommend the Auto Train to anyone who doesn’t feel like driving to Florida, being raped by the TSA or to anyone who wants to experience a way of travel that to many has long since been forgotten.

My time home was spent visiting my grandmother, seeing Grace and Annie before they left to return back to UVa, resting, and preparing myself for the upcoming semester in Italy.  I did finally get to see The Social Network, and I must say that I was not impressed at all with the movie.  Yes, the writing is exceptional and Aaron Sorkin is a fantastic writer, but the movie just didn’t do anything for me.  I don’t know if it was the built-up hype or what, but I was not impressed at all, which I’ll admit was a bit disappointing.  Grace, meanwhile, has been faced with a bit of a dilemma as her Hitler for a landlord is not thrilled with Henry Flagler’s ever-increasing size and is now on the hunt for a new residence in Charlottesville.  Justin has returned to the daily grind of homework, paper and parties at Rollins, even misleading campus security into thinking he was on acid because he was running outside nearly naked looking for his phone at 4 in the morning last week.  Ah, to be young and carefree…

Last night, I landed in New York and had an absolutely amazing dinner at Pastis, which even made Andrew jealous because he can’t get that delicious burger in LA!  The mousse au chocolat was so rich that even I, someone who has never before not finished a desert in my life, couldn’t finish the whole thing.  Plus, for wine lovers, I recommend a carafe of the pinot noir that they have by the glass because it was beyond words.  This morning, I braved the below 0 with the wind chill weather for a four-mile run in the park, which was BEYOND exhilarating, despite wearing seven layers!  Then I spent some time getting last minute items before heading of to MoMa for an hour where I saw this really great exhibit on kitchens from the 1940s and 1950s.  It was so neat seeing the “kitchens of tomorrow” and all the very interesting innovations they had.  There was also a Warhol film exhibit, but seeing a guy’s facial expressions while receiving a blow job didn’t really do a lot to get me to stay for very long.

So now, as I come to the end of this conversation while seated at Newark waiting for my flight for Rome,  it has just dawned on me that the next time I sit down for one of our conversations, I’ll be in the land of wine women and song, with an emphasis on the first two, regaling y’all with tales of my journey to Italy and the start of my semester in Siena.  Fino alla prossima volta…

Ciao,

-JD

PS: Congratulations to Annie and Sarah on being made members of the Tri Delta sorority at UVa!

Like a Missed Period, I Guess I’m Late!

Well, Christmas is over and the child molester flew back to the North Pole to rest and prepare for yet another month of molesting next year.  Meanwhile, I enjoyed the sales that come with the most popular holiday of the year, so I guess thanks are in order?  So in the time between now and our last “chat” together, I moved out of my apartment in Charlottesville (oh what a joy!) in only two car-loads, which I must say was impressive considering how much stuff I own.  Additionally, mother and I did the trip to Florida this time (Field Marshall Rommel lucked out) and it was um… bizarre.

Unlike Field Marshall Rommel, who only allowed me to stop so he could deal with his “problem” (a problem that I’m sure Flomax could fix, but that’s just a personal opinion), mother insisted we stop on a regular basis.  Interestingly, every time we stopped, we were near an outlet mall.  Gee, what a coincidence!  When we arrived at the “lovely” Courtyard by Marriott in Florence, South Carolina, mother slept in her clothes for fear that the sheets hadn’t been washed and that we would contract bedbugs.  It’s been over a week and nothing yet has happened to me so I rest my case.  The drive itself was a bit more verbal than the previous ones, which have usually consisted of Rommel telling me he needed to use that facilities every hour or so and little else, but it was okay, on the whole.

There was one minor incident when he reached Florida, however.  After visiting an outlet mall in St. Augustine, we go to get gas.  Well, mother has some credit card that she has to call before going out of town (literally, she has to call before using it in Williamsburg, which is an hour away from our house) to let them know that she would be using it.  I have only done that when I’ve traveled abroad.  Meanwhile, we arrive at the gas station and my American Express was declined, so we drove to the one across the street where it is declined again.  I immediately received an email saying there were fraudulent charges on my account because of gas station charges along I-95, which is odd because this was only my THIRD drive from Virginia to Florida!

So we pull into Palm Beach and the next day, we’re on Worth Avenue and spending like we’ve sold the house for cash!  Mother’s card for which she had to call and give prior notice was declined due to “extremely high prices” being charged to her card in more than one store, which lead her to have a mini-meltdown because it was kind of embarrassing.   My cousin Kevin arrived and was dragged to see The King’s Speech immediately after landing by mother and me.  He thought it was, “well produced;”  I think Colin Firth’s performance is going to win him the OSCAR he deserved last year in A Single Man.

Now, while all of this was happening, G-d sneezed while doing a line of coke and it blanketed the entire East Coast in feet upon feet of “snow,” which, aside from leading to a sudden drop in the price of the powdery drug (rich, prep-school kids around the nation rejoice:

(Yes, I do realize how fitting it is that Mick Jagger and David Bowie, super druggies, are singing this song; hell, they looked coked up in this video)), meant that flights weren’t exactly running on schedule.  So mother’s flight is supposed to leave at some inhumane hour on Sunday morning and I had to drive her to the airport only to basically leave the airport because it was undoubtedly canceled.  This was also a major glitch in my usually perfect Day After Christmas gift shopping because there’s no telling as to how many great items I missed out on by not being at the doors to Neimans or Saks at 8h0 like usual.  To make things worse, I ran into this “sweet, little old grandma” with whom I fought over a tie a few years back and to my astonishment, she was still breathing!  She had taken a tie out of my hand and when I told her I was buying it, she laughed with amusement while saying that I was too young to need a tie to wear (I was sixteen and attending a prep school that required one to be worn every day at the time) and I told her that it didn’t matter if she bought it because no one would be alive to wear it by the end of the day (harsh, I know, but Starbucks wasn’t open yet and I was on the backend of a sugar high).  She then saw me outside of Neimans talking on the phone to my cousin and overheard me say that I was just going to look at the Ferragamo ties on sale and then leave so what does she do?  She bought every single Ferragamo tie on sale, EVEN the duplicates!  When we saw each other in Neimans on Sunday, it went through the following stages: calm, shock, double take to make sure it was her, a “DAMN SHE LOOKS READY TO KICK THE BUCKET” thought, a glance from her, hate in her eyes, mutual stink eyes, and then back to being asked, “why aren’t you looking for my size?” by mother.  This video does a good job of encapsulating it all:

Monday came around and I still couldn’t get Southwest to just force her on the plane.  FINALLY, she gets on the plane on Tuesday, only after yelling at me for being late because I had to put oil in my car after driving it to Orlando/Winter Park the night before to see my friend Tasleem before she goes back to Canada.  When we pulled up to Fort Lauderdale International Airport, she turns to me as says, “Don’t drive too far away in case I miss the plane” EVEN THOUGH I GOT HER THERE EARLY!  Y’all, I got out of there so fast because I could not bring myself to have to drive back to Fort Lauderdale again on Wednesday (I had plans).

Winesday (yes, just like the Today Show‘s cocktail hour with permanent drunk, Kathy Lee Gifford, and FORMER award-winning journalist-turned-babysitter to a drunk, Hoda Kotb calls  Wednesday) was spent with everyone’s Jewish grandmothers in their winter homes in BOCA! with Andrew, which as y’all can imagine, was a spectacle.  There simply is no other word to describe what happens when the two of us are together.  We told off a security guard at the Boca Raton Resort and Club, over-ate, went ice-skating on marble floors with wooden-soled shoes (I nearly broke my neck, which has it’s benefits because then I could sue the life out of the hotel for having a way-too-slipery floor and then never have to work a day in my life, so DAMMIT WHY DID I HOLD ON TO THE RAILING?  I COULD BE IN A HOSPITAL WITH PUDDING AND A SPOT ON OPRAH ALL READY TO GO!), multiple indecisions over whether to take a boat or to wait for a shuttle, complaints about children, BROS, spectacular views of BOCA!, a bad ending with the Focker clan (musical condoms?), saw this poster: , got rejections from about five restaurants, had a waitress who must have been having her time of the month that night, ateLike a Missed Period, I Guess I’m Late! seafood restaurant with a view of man-made lake, and thrown out partridge and a pear tree!

In case none of y’all got that, Little Fockers might actually be the worst movie I’ve ever seen, save for the Barbara Streisand and Dustin Hoffman scenes, which were either about sex or making jokes at the expense of Jews, both of which are usually necessary!  We had a really good dinner at the seafood restaurant City Fish Market, which was where I discovered my new drink of the moment, the Rue Royale, which is delicious and goes down rather smoothly.

It was Thursday though that really made this the best end to the best year of my life.  We went to Donald’s little shack in Palm Beach, Mar-a-Lago, for lunch.  Y’all, it’s stunning.  There are oriental rugs outside, which I hope get put away when it rains, but still.  We ate by the pool oceanside, since Andrew said that the other pool area was basically for old people (he was right since the youngest person there was on oxygen I think).  While eating a delicious lunch, we spotted the heirs to the hairplug’s fortune, Donald Jr. and JVanaka!  Well, Don Jr. looks just like daddy (which is not good), but JVANKA is amazing!  Yes, JVanka is a single unith that refers to Jared Kuschner and his gorgeous (and now Jewish, so in case they get divorced I have a shot) wife, Ivanka Trump Kuschner, who does not have that fat, chipmunk face in real life, by the way.  Here’s my first question about JVANKA: HOW IS JVANKA NOT EXPECTING A CHILD YET?  I mean really, if you were married to either one, wouldn’t you be in bed shtupping 24/7?  I’m just sayin’.  The only reason to not want to have children so soon might be out of fear that it could end up looking like Grandpa Donald, whose youngest son, Baron (aged five), will be an uncle when this child is born.  Getting back on track, Jvanka went off to the tennis courts and Andrew and I waited ten minutes before following.  Leonardo couldn’t have sculpted better legs (personal opinion of course).  Plus, girl is smart because she had the tennis pro playing for her.  However, here’s where Jared messed up: he was beating his wife at tennis (strike one) at her father’s club (strike two)  while staying at the same club (strike three).  Regardless, it was a huge relief to know that despite looking like a chipmunk in photos, Jvanka’s face is not fat in real life, which make Maggie and me happy (Maggie, a friend of mine whom I met through Andrew looks to Jvanka as a role model, nothing more)!

After leaving Club Hair Plug, which was immaculate and showed few signs of being a shrine to el Donaldo as I expected, Andrew and I headed up to Worth Avenue for a simple stroll around and then dinner at Michael McCarty’s, which was great as usual (their macaroni and cheese always hits the spot).  This was a sad day because Andrew and I were faced with the fact that our daily talking time, which is probably more than what it should be, is about to be extremely restricted starting in January since we will have a nine-hour time difference between Siena and LA.  Somehow, I feel we will find a way to overcome this.

So in the middle of finals week, Grace welcomed a new member to her family (Maury Povich, what am I?

Thank you).  Weighing in at just over eight pounds, I’d like to introduce Grace’s new baby boy, Henry Flagler Wilkins:

That’s right, it’s a great dane.  Rachel said she can’t wait for the day when she can replace her human body pillow with HFW while I can’t wait for the day when we can rent him out for birthday parties and pretend that he’s a pony who just has some spots.  Grace also managed to break her arm following a lovely evening of karaoke.  I decided to stay in that night and missed all of the festivities involved.

Sadly, this holiday season has not been without its painful moments.  Justin’s grandfather passed away on Christmas Day in his home in New Jersey.  From what I’ve heard about him, he seems like a lovely person who I know will be greatly missed.  On the bright side, Justin said that at least he now had a chance to wear his new, vintage three-piece suit from Gant!  Also, I managed to completely corrupt the once intellectual Justin since he now loves my love, Wendy Williams and has watched her show multiple times this month.  So Justin, 

Well, to wrap up what has without a doubt been the best year of my life, I just want to wish y’all a very happy new year and let’s all hope that 2011 is just as fun as 2010!  On a more serious note, let’s also hope that Barbara Walters remembers that she was once a distinguished journalist who would never bring herself to interview the cast of Jersey Shore or Justin Bieber.  Worse, she would absolutely NEVER learn to Dougie:

From my lounge chair oceanside in Palm Beach receiving tweets from @YesImWaspy and getting lost in my book, The Widow Clicquot, until next time in 2011…

-JD

PS: In the final Basil Watch of 2010, Rommel sent me this photo of my little plants just a few weeks before they’re to be moved into their new home, a terra-cotta pot: