I Feel The Need, The Need To Get You Up To Speed

Now, how can I explain my absence? Eh, I basically just got lazy. No, that's not true, because I haven't been lazy in other areas of my life, I've just been lazy in the blog part. Why, this weekend I single-handedly made some side tables for my living room! Does that sound like the actions of a lazy person?

Actually it wasn't single-handedly at all, it was pretty much double-handedly because Sean did at least fifty percent of the work, and I didn't so much make them as I did paint them, but—okay, hey, I am getting ahead of myself. I was really just trying to explain why I hadn't written anything around these parts in at least a week, but it turns out I don't really have any good excuses. Apart from furniture-painting, I guess. And going to Connecticut.

Oh! We went to Connecticut! That's what I've been doing. We went to Connecticut to visit Sean's parents, although that was only the official reason; the unofficial reason we went to Connecticut is so that I could indulge in not one but two Dunkin Donuts Coffee Coolatas in a three-day period, which I'm not even sure I should be confessing to, come to think of it, because surely you are going to view me differently from now on. In a negative light, probably. Through narrowed eyes as you sip your organic, vegan, spring-fed mineral water, the proceeds of which go towards saving baby whales.

(Seriously, remind me to show you some pictures of these side tables later. They are quite splendid. I spray painted them with twelve cans of spray paint, ruining two computer keyboards—don't ask—and the side of my house in the process. Worth it!)

Anyway, Connecticut was hot and sticky and humid, which I wasn't expecting for the end of September, and we had a fantastic weekend, the most fantastic part of all being the fact that my mother-in-law used the word "babymama" in a sentence, which is....well, let's say I wasn't expecting that either.  As well as drinking a lot of Coolatas, which we cannot get in San Francisco (and just as well), we did the usual Tour O' Nostalgia through our former town, lingering particularly long outside Chloe Sevigny's house just in case she might be home for the weekend, spot her old buddy from Spanish class sitting in her driveway in his mom's minivan, and come out to say hello.

(Did I tell you that already? That Sean went to high school with Chloe Sevigny? They took Spanish together. I'm not sure why this still hasn't yielded us an invite to the Oscars.)

The other thing I did in Connecticut was that I discovered the world's greatest pizza, although that wasn't in Connecticut at all, but in Brooklyn, where I ventured up on Saturday to meet my friend Sarah and her husband Nick, and where we did not, sadly, spot Maggie Gyllenhaal, despite the fact that she lived three blocks from the bar whose window we were sitting in. (It was not a good weekend for celeb-spotting, I guess. Probably all in the Hamptons drinking that fancy water I totally just invented earlier.)

The pizza we ate was from Grimaldi's, and it tasted like fresh mozzarella and the smug tang of success, thanks to the fact that we did not have to wait two hours in line to eat it like all the other suckers. Don't wory, we did wait about thirty minutes, but when it became apparent that we weren't going to get to the front of the line for another Idon'tevenknowhowlong, Nick called the number on the front of the restaurant awning, placed an order for two pies to go, and we had them in our hands not fifteen minutes later—fifteen minutes, I should add, that we used to sit in a pub and have a drink. It was pretty much the most simple and brilliant plan I've ever been a part of. We ate the pizza—manna from heaven, I tell you—sitting on a bench in front of the East River, watching the cars float over the Brooklyn Bridge and the lights of Manhattan glowing across the water. And I only took the wrong subway on my way back to Grand Central once.

(It was a pretty bad once, though. I ended up just getting a cab.)

So really, all told, the only not-so-good part of our weekend away in Connecticut was the gradual and unfortunate emergence of a Plane Farter on the flight out there. We've all been privy to a Plane Farter before, haven't we? He's a despicable creature, the Plane Farter, not a team player at all. Cloaked in the pleasing anonymity of a crowded airplane, the Plane Farter lets 'em rip with wild abandon, growing bolder and bolder as the flight goes on. This particular Plane Farter was going for some kind of record, I think: he did not let up for an entire six-hour redeye. Gone were my worries about crashing in a fiery fireball into a field! Nope, I had bigger things on my mind: how not to breathe in someone else's continuous loop of stale fart.

Really, I will never, ever understand this. What is the deal, Plane Farters of the world? Do you think it doesn't count at 30,000 feet?

Oct 03, 2011

ugh! "I had bigger things on my mind: how not to breathe in someone else's continuous loop of stale fart." That's pretty dirty there. why would someone do that? why?

Oct 03, 2011

Oooh, I too faced the plane farter, and I too came out scarred and burned, with nary a nostril hair left. The people who do that are a special brand of inconsiderate.

Oct 03, 2011

I'm sorry to be correcting you. I don't mean to be rude. But while you were eating your delicious pizza (I LOVE Grimaldi's, there are two in Hoboken, NJ) you were in fact looking out over the East River. The Hudson River is on the other side of Manhattan then runs out past the Statue of Liberty and into the bay.
Oh, and plane farters are the worst of all the location farters. I happen to always sit next to their close cousin, the movie theater farter. The movie only lasts two hours, but it's very disturbing when you are in the middle of a romantic scene and you get a whiff of that something terrible. Some bad associations can be made when mixing the two.

Pretzel Thief
Oct 03, 2011

"...continuous loop of stale fart" = EWWWWW.

But, also, bwahahahah.

Disgusting plane farter aside (blecch!), wishing I could teleport myself to Grimaldi's...damn you, non-existing-teleportation!

Oct 03, 2011

Ewww I so had one of these people sat in front of me, on my flight home last week. Utterly disgusting. I was breathing into my sleeve almost the entire flight. That AND alcohol sweats. Most unpleasant.

PS. Pictures please, of the side tables and the finished drinks cart!

Oct 03, 2011

Grimaldi's pizza! SO GOOD! We ate there on our honeymoon this past February and devoured the entire pie in record time I'm sure.
Plane farters - ugh! They are the absolute worst.

Oct 03, 2011

We have a Grimaldi's in Scottsdale! It is delicious and they are VERY PROUD of it so we only eat it about 3-4 times per year.

OMG plane farters. Ack.

Nothing But Bonfires
Oct 03, 2011

Thanks Caroline -- have corrected it. Guess I don't know my rivers!

Oct 03, 2011

The worst thing about plane farters AND driving behind someone smoking a cigarette in the summertime is the realization of how often we are breathing in air that was just in someone else's body. Just because we can't sense it most of the time doesn't lessen the vastness of its occurrence.

Kind of makes you want to go take a shower on the inside, doesn't it?

Oct 03, 2011

grimaldis is, without a doubt, the best pizza and best view i've had. SO GOOD.

Oct 03, 2011

Hilarious. I loathe plane farters. Lowest of the low. The Grimaldi's idea was pretty brilliant. I'll have to keep that in mind.

Oct 03, 2011

Jesus woman, how humongous are these side tables that you used 12 cans of spray paint? I saw Maggie G at a restaurant in NoHo - her face is the perfect epitome of a 1920's era beauty in person.

Oct 03, 2011

She's alive!!!! A week is WAY too long for me to go without an NBB fix.
The "continous loop" comment has me wiping tears from my eyes. I have to ask, how on earth did you ruin 2 keyboards and the side of your house? Paint fumes get to you?? Kidding ;) Glad your back!!

moosh in indy.
Oct 03, 2011

I was all SIDE TABLES! PIZZA! WANT SOME! And by the end all I can really focus on is all the plane farters I've been subjected to.

I still want pizza though.

Jordan Shoes
Oct 03, 2011

The important thing in life is to have a great aim, and thedetermination to attain it. One of these days is none of these days.
Nothing down, nothing up.  A good book is your best friend.

Oct 03, 2011

Pizza sounds divine, yet another reason for me to move New York further up my list of places to go.

Yes please, photos of the side tables! And ew ew ew, plane farters...nasty nasty.

Oct 04, 2011

Oh, dear. Your plane farters may very well have been the flight crew. According to a dear friend in the trade, farting whilst walking down the aisle is referred to as "crop dusting". TMI. I know. I'm so, so sorry. I wish she had never told me.

Oct 04, 2011

I'm sorry, I am disagreeing with your best pizza ever. We went to Brooklyn and ate at Di Fara a couple of weeks ago, and it was so good that sometimes we just look at the picture of the pizza and sigh. My son told me, quite reasonably, that we could leave after he gets home from school, drive there for a pizza for dinner, and be home for bedtime. But it seems like a lot of driving and tolls, even for that pizza. I am considering it, though. It was that good. (We live in CT, by the way. But the crappy part.)

Franca Bollo
Oct 08, 2011

Oh, god. I never want to get on a plane again.

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