Sunday, February 7, 2010

New York I Love You, But You're Bringing Me Down (...That's What She Said)

My birthday weekend this year started the way it usually ends: By getting pulled over by the police. I was on my way to NYC, when my father, forgetting to wish me a Happy Birthday before I left, decided to call me up while I was driving down. Unfortunately, I picked up literally two seconds away from a cop, and so, I started off my birthday by getting scolded by a state trooper in a doofy hat and a purple tie. Thankfully, I know how to talk my way out of a ticket (Mentioning the fact that it was my birthday every other sentence didn't exactly hurt either.)

New York City itself was something of a wonder to behold. The moment I saw the skyline, Empire State of Mind started playing on the radio, which would probably sound like a boldfaced lie if it wasn't for the fact that American radio stations play five songs and only five songs. Still, it gave me a bit of the wiggin's.

Our first stop was of course Time Square because everyone knows that when you go to New York, you have to see Time Square. Seriously, I think it's a law. If you don't, the NYPD actually hunts you down and beats you. Well, not really, but you get the point: Go see Time Square. Actually, it was pretty amazing, especially at night. Actually, on the way there we ran into who I think was Lil Wayne, which resulted in this conversation with my cousin Lyndsey:

Me: That was Lil Wayne.

Lyndsey: I think it was too. Let's go back.

Me: Nah, he kinda looks like a Cabbage Patch Kid.

Granted, we don't know for sure, since we didn't exactly chase him down and demand photo ID, but in all fairness, he was short, had the same hair, the same face tattoos...All of it. So yeah, we're sticking to that story.

Afterward, we went to Moma, which for a free exhibit was actually kinda fucking boring, and to make that even worse, the Tim Burton Show was sold out. Bummer. Although I did get a picture with a big blue thing, which was pretty cool too...I guess. I mean, it's big, and it's blue, and Tim Burton-ey. Yay?
But that was all okay, because the day after, we went to 30 FUCKING ROCK. Mind you, it looks NOTHING like the 30 Rock on TV which may have something to do with the fact that they don't actually shoot any of it inside 30 Rock, which really sort of seems like false advertisement, but who cares?! We got to see the SNL band rehearsing, which was fucking FANTASTIC. Actually, the only thing better was the oddly obsessive guy on the tour who kept asking questions that only a crazy stalker fan would know.

From there, we went to Central Park and Ground Zero and Chinatown (which for some reason beyond me warrants being mentioned in the same breath as the first two) which I really wouldn't have minded if it weren't for the fact that it is FUCKING COLD in NYC. Seriously, for city that is further south, and covered with properly-heated buildings, how are you guys even colder than Montreal? And why does everyone in NYC dress their dogs in sweaters? It's not like Kahlua ever came in from the cold and went "Hey, the snow is great and all, but know what I could use? A nice winter jacket. Maybe with a fur trim around the hood. That would be great. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to steal all your socks and hide them under my bed."
What I really wanted out of all of this? Cupcakes. Apparently, NYC is all about the cupcakes, and you know me, I loves me my food. All I wanted was a fucking cupcake, and instead, I kept getting dragged around Chinatown while people kept offering me fake-ass cubic zirconia Tiffany knock-offs. Hey, if I wanted Tiffany's, I'd go to Tiffany's. But I wanted a freaking cupcake, and I was going to get my freaking cupcake.

Thankfully, we eventually made our way to Magnolia Bakery, where Lyndsey, Marisa and I waited in the longest line ever for a cupcake. But honestly? SO worth it. The frosting alone is worth it really. The best part about it was that while we ate our tasty little cupcakes in the park by the shop, a Sex And The City tour group passed us by. I'm not sure if you've ever seen one of these, but hooooooo boy that is a very special kind of crazy. I liked the show as much as the next gay, but the way these women hung on there guide's every word was so sad it looped around from funny, passed sad again, and went back to funny.
Anyway, after we got back to the hotel and I had a nice hot shower, I went out to a birthday dinner/return trip to Magnolia with Vince Lambert, who gave me the single greatest calendar ever willed into existence by the internet. Honestly, considering my track record with men, this is the closest thing to a boyfriend I will ever allow myself to have. Awesome! Thanks Vince!
But sadly, all good things come to an end, and we had to head back. Anyway, it was Lyndsey, Marisa and I in one car and two other girls in a car following us. To guide us home, I borrowed Mama Feist's GPS, which she for some reason felt the need to program with an Irish accent. This lead to some confusion (apparently, a "motorway" is like the Irish version of a highway. Who knew?) This was not helped by the fact that the two others in the car kept making suggestions about which way to go, and the fact that the GPS has a tendency to scold you for forgoing its directions. Needless to say, early into the trip I ended up switching lanes at the last minute and watched as the other girls drove off in the completely wrong direction. Whoops.

Still, not a bad way to celebrate my ability to go an entire year without dying. And we did get some pretty good "That's what she said!"s out of it. This one being my personal favourite...
...That's what she said!


Maresa said...

hahahahaha okay, i laughed out loud way too many times reading that!

Drew said...

haha well some of the rich peple do dress their dogs, if you have like a golden you no need to.

Jeremy Feist said...

MARESA! Oh my God, so much fun this weekend. Thank you!

Drew: Gag, even if you're rich it still makes no sense.

James said...

You need to tell me when you are NYC looking for cupcakes. No more Magnolia's. Go to Billy's or Butter Lane.

As for dressing up dogs, that's why NYC is not part of "real America."

Happy late b day.