Frank and Tom's pizza, Heineken, and Ben and Jerry's.
Wednesdays are tops.
La Petit Ryan came over with a super present midway between her native Hannakah (sp?) and my Christmas. Jews and Catholics togeth forev.
I'd say a good month ago I told her about how bewildered I am about this whole north south east west phenomenon. Alls I know is, north is uptown and east is homeward. Oh, and galleries are west. And umm.... Brooklyn eats shit?
Jk, Jk, Jk, not jk.
Anyway, Petit gave me the raddest compass so I can stop meandering around intersections trying to look like I know whats up.
I do that whole squint then cell phone check then pretend to be busy foot shuffle thing while I spy all of the street signs and pray I guess which way the partys at.
You all know the deal, I could live in C town til I die, and I will still call you 5o yards from your crib like, "Do I go left or right at the scaffolding?"
"Wait...shutup...I'm FACING Whole Foods...like looking at it...go what way?"
So Petit is basically saving my sanity at this point. She's a total doll. A doll in a Yankees fitted and ass baring boy Levis. And a shit eating Jew grin. Us gentiles don't know a thing about that happiness. We are too busy whipping our own backs around Christmas to be fucking merry like that.
Tis the season!
Now that I've got the holidays poisoning my thoughts, I have to say. Christmas. Movie. Recommendation. I've noticed this whole sexually appealing cornfed yokel thing with dudes in the city. You're not Will Oldham, and you shouldn't want to be, because cousins got about an 8head. He's like the white Tyra. Anyway, if you want the real deal good dirty old cuntry boy rent Bad Santa FORTHWITH. Yes. Forthwith.
BBT (Billy Bob Thornton ahem) is such a piece. I take back that whole Gosling thing, the BBT is the good stuff.
He's my Christmas crack.