New Jersey: We Make New York Smell Better

I love New Jersey. I make fun of it on occasion, I admit it. But I live here, so I can. I talk about moving, pretty much all the time. But not so I can live in New York City. I talk about moving somewhere warm and pretty. I want to live in Hawaii or Stars Hollow. I don't see what the big deal is of living in the "City." (I'm so going to get beat up on my way home from work tonight for this, I know it). But honestly, if Whitney Port's portrayal is at all accurate (which it is most definitely not), then I see no big draw. Seriously. It's expensive, it's cold, and it smells.



I know, I know. I drive on the NJ Turnpike through Newark often enough to know that saying NYC smells is being not even a little hypocritical. But the rest of NJ...is pretty much the explanation for the name the "Garden State." Get away from North Jersey and even some of the suburbs of Central Jersey, check out the Jersey Shore, Princeton, Cape May, and north north Jersey (the north Jersey that's not near NYC) and you'll be amazed at the beauty of this state.



I was with my friend Ben on his first trip to NJ. I took him to Princeton through the back roads of Cranbury and Grovers Mill. He was amazed that this was the same state that he always associated with the opening scenes of The Sopranos.



"It's not dirty! It doesn't smell! You guys don't talk funny! Where am I???"



Unfortunately, when my friend Ben actually moved to NJ, he moved to the exact location he imagined all those times he made fun of our fine state. C'est la vie.



My point is that NJ gets a bum rap. And I'm sick of it. Leave NJ alone! If for no other reason, then because it's an easy joke. Be creative. Make fun of a more deserving location. Have you ever been to Nebraska? Come on! That place is much more disturbing than NJ! I think you're all jealous personally. We have White Castle and Wawa and we don't pump our own gas! We know what we're doing man! NJ does it right!



Want proof?



Aromatic Mystery in New York City Is Solved



That's right. We made New York smell better! Not that we don't do that every day with the hundreds of thousands of commuters that come over on the PATH, ferry, or NJ Transit. My favorite part of the article? The following quote:

“New Yorkers smell a little smell and they’re getting all paranoid,” said Jay Beqej, 33, who works at the Fairview Public Works warehouse.

Haha! Stupid New Yorkers!



Why the hostility you ask? Why am I reducing myself to their level (them being those that needlessly mock New Jersey)? Because last I checked E. Hanover, Edison, Mt. Olive, Ramsey, Wayne, Princeton, and Mt. Laurel were all in New Jersey. We're not talking on the border of, or right across the river, we're talking very much WITHIN the state of New Jersey and yet f'in Macaroni Grill denies New Jersey even exists!



I can take the easy cracks at the "armpit of the country." I can laugh it off. I can smirk at Comedy Central's new subway ads that thank the many funny things in this world that give that channel its programming, which lists along with George W. and mullets, the state of New Jersey. But there's only so much a girl can take. And denying the state I was born and raised in even exists? Denying my home even has a name?



I'm sorry, but that's where I draw the line.



Edited to note: I decided to search further to see if maybe they are only suggesting that these locations are near NY and PA, but are in fact in NJ. So I searched locations within NY, thinking if they maybe had a NYC location they would list it under NJ, but no, they have two locations with the subheads being Albany and Rochester. So what I now can't figure out are whether they are suggesting that NJ doesn't exist and these locations are in NY and PA, or that Philadelphia and New York don't exist and are merely subdivisions of New Jersey, like Albany and Rochester are for the state of New York. In which case Macaroni Grill is arguing that New Jersey is so great that it encompasses all of the great cities in its surrounding areas. So either suck it Macaroni Grill, or rock on!

Everyone's disguised just a little bit.

I bought the dress for $15 at that vintage store in Montpelier.

I tried it on and it fit perfectly. I was amazed. Home-made. 1950's. It was clear it wasn't just a 1950's style but actually from the 50's. Otherwies the sleeves would have been shortened. The hem above the knee, not below. Stitches were stretching. Buttons fell off long ago.

"Be careful when you wash this," she said with a smile when she handed me the bag.

I held up the dress outside to show Jill. She gave a look that made it clear she was following the if you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all rule. I folded the dress back up and placed it in the bag. I didn't care. The dress was mine.

I wore the dress today. It seemed an odd choice. For Wolf Parade. I wore the dress today.

At work, everyone smiled and said nice things. For the first time in a month she spoke to me. "French schoolgirl. Gorgeous dress!"

We went to the show. I felt out of place but didn't care. Alex and I made our way to the front and waited. We danced in place. Happy to be just out of way for the more aggressive fans.

"Just be careful guys. With the 'moshing.' Just be respectful and try to be nice." Spencer said. "I mean that wasn't even a fast song."

The $7 beer hit me fast - my bladder anyway. I pushed my way to the back, behind the bar, to the bathroom. Crowds of people. Standing. Listening. Some pushing forward to get to the bar, me in the opposite direction. Two guys push forward. The second texts away. Gawd, pay attention where you're going guy, I think. He looks up and stares me down. Do I know you, I wonder. Because seriously dude, wtf? He stares me down some more as I push through.

I make my way back to Alex. Fists pump in the air and we sing along. You know I'll believe in anything and you'll believe in anything because nobody knows you and nobody gives a damn either way.

We walk back to Columbus Circle and part ways. I take the D to Herald Square and take the stairs to the PATH. A train sits waiting. It's 11:07 and the train doesn't list a destination. Everyone boards. I assume, it being past 11 and with no one waiting on the platform that the train will make all stops. After 14th street I realize some people are left on the platform after the doors close. At 9th I wonder if maybe this is just a Hoboken train. At Christopher I debate getting up to check but don't move. At Hoboken I follow the crowd out. There are two trains sitting. I board the 33rd street train with everyone else. Frustrated to have to return to Christopher Street to get back to Jersey. Realizing that at that point the trains will only be running the late night schedule and I'll be right back in that spot in another twenty minutes. I sit and wait. As the doors are about to close on the empty train across the platform I realize it is the WTC train, making a stop at Pavonia Newport. I quickly exit the train and make my way across the platform. I get on the train just as the door closes behind me. I realize as I sit that the train isn't as empty as I thought.

His jeans are ripped and I feel him watching me as I sit down. I go back to reading my book.

"This train goes to Connecticut, right?" Even from across the car I can see that he has a good smile.

"Eventually." I didn't know what to say. I smile hoping he didn't hear my failed attempt at a joke. I focus back on my book.

I realize he's moved to the seat across from me before I even look up. Upon closer inspection I realize his eyes are just as good as his smile. He's young but not too young. Teen Beat cute but with just the right amount of roughness around the edges.

"Going to New York?" He has a nice voice.

I shake my head. "Jersey."

"From Jersey to Jersey?"

"No New York to Jersey. Wrong train. Long story."

He asks where I work. Where I live. Where he lives. We exchange vague locations. New York. Jersey City. New York. He was coming from Hoboken. Fun, he says. Sure, I say.

"I like your dress."

"Thanks," I smile.

"You have a really nice smile."

"Thanks," my smile bigger.

"Do you have a boyfriend."

"Yeah, I do." my smile biggest.

I think of the times I've lied to that question. Easier to lie than to explain to a complete stranger that my lack of a boyfriend is not an open invitation. I wonder if I would've lied to him.

"Does he live with you?" A look as if he realizes that it's a strange question to ask just a little too late.

"Nope. He lives in Virginia."

"That's no good."

I shake my head, "no good at all."

"Why does your boyfriend live in Virginia?"

"That's a really good question," I admit.

"Have you ever asked yourself that question?" his smile doesn't fade.

"All the time," neither does mine.

We pull into the station.

"This is my stop," I nod towards the exit. "Good luck getting to New York."

"Good luck with your boyfriend."

I smile to myself as I cross the platform and wait for the Journal Square train. Wolf Parade plays in my head, wishing that I had cell service underground. I wonder if it'll be too late to call by the time I get to Journal Square.

I think about the boy in Virginia. The one who thinks I have a nice smile. The one who would think I looked pretty in this dress. Because this heart's on fire and it's getting better all the time. I think about him and I smile.

this song is about boners...in your heart.

i wrote this on April 7th, the morning after the handsome furs show. i don't know why i didn't post it then. i think i was going to attach the video i took at the show. i'm posting it now. maybe in another month i'll post the video?

heart boner. last night. handsome furs. bowery. fucking awesome.


that's all.

the verdict is still out on the perfect storm though. what the fuck was that? google is no help. well it was either ridiculously brilliant or just ridiculous. thoughts?

oh and i'm here to set the record straight, internet: dan boeckner did not attend columbia.

"son," she said. "have i got a little story for you..."

so pearl jam and ted leo and the pharmacists are playing the garden in june and while i think it'd be a cool show to see, here are my concerns:

1. madison square garden? both pearl jam and ted leo belong in a small venue or club. ted can't handle the garden and while pearl jam probably can, it's not gonna be pretty. put 'em in bowery or williamsburg and then you'd have a show to see.

2. $77? for serious?

3. pearl jam and ted leo? i <3 me some ted leo and i've got nothing against eddie but i just can't see them sharing a stage.

plus i'd be going mostly to see ted leo and he's pretty solid with closing out the free summer shows at mccarren park pool. which if you're following solves all three problems as it's not at the garden. it's not $77. and it's not with eddie vedder. is all i'm saying.

Not getting my hopes up...

Remember that guy I met on the PATH at 4am? I mentioned that I didn't give the guy my number, but I did give him my email address. I did this because in discussing running he made mention of some NY Times article he thought would be of interest to me, and also because he asked for it and I wasn't just going to say no. Now had he asked for my number that might've been another story but luckily he didn't.

Anyway, a few days pass and no word from drunk random writer guy. I'm not too disappointed as I wasn't actually interested in this guy in any way - through no fault of his own though, he wasn't bad looking or anything - but it bruised the ego a little. I couldn't help feeling rejected even if it was by someone I didn't care about or even know.

So then I'm surprised to finally get an email from this guy. No NY Times article attached of course. And a note that goes along the lines of "I think I remember you. I'm embarrassed since I was drunk and am not even entirely sure I remember who you are but if you are the girl I spoke with on the PATH last weekend and you remember me and are interested in some interesting conversation, here's my number."

and then he says this:

"But don't get your hopes up because I will be leaving the country soon."

Seriously?? Seriously!! Don't get my hopes up? I don't know you. You barely remember even meeting me. And you're telling me not to get my hopes up?

And I already thought of names for our kids. Darn.

frenchin' at 205.

saturday night. sorta bday celebration for jm and myself. i invited my best-y but since it was in the city she was a no-go. i didn't bother to really invite anyone else. i mentioned it two friends who live near the city. they were both down. neither showed. this is how the night began. not a good sign.

that afternoon i get a text from a 'roe buddy asking if i'd be in that area that night. i inform him i would not but that he should come out to the city for my bday. he claims he would've had he had more than a few hours notice. i blame ken since had she wanted to come out i would've invited everyone but since she didn't i didn't bother inviting the boys. not only do i feel like i have no friends since no one came out but now mf's pissed at me for not having invited him sooner. let's add that to the list of things that went wrong.

got dinner at stand with jm and her bf and her friend and her friend's bf. despite the fact that i am almost constantly hanging out with ken and don and am almost always 3rd or 5th wheelin' it, i have never felt more like a 5th wheel than i did at that dinner.

we inexplicably drive around the city for about an hour. what we're even doing in a car in the city in the first place is beyond me. we head over to sweet and vicious where a former kkp-er is celebrating her bday. it's small and crowded. i say my hello's and leave to meet back up with jm, etc. at 205. i remember 205 from halloween when i made friends with a creepy old french guy to get in on his table service. i resolve not to make friends with any creepy old french guys tonight. i find jm, etc. and am informed that jm's bf saw an olsen when they got there. my night is picking up.

despite dancing and relatively enjoying hanging out at 205 with jm, etc. i'm still sorta cranky for no reason. then i meet random french guy. luckily not creepy or old and a good dancer even but still not exactly what i need to get out of my grumpisness. i pull the bathroom card and lose frenchie.

i bail on 205 and jm,etc. around 3:30am. i consider taking a cab to the path as it's 3:30am, 40 degrees out, i'm wearing heels, am alone, and in the lower east side (nowhere near the 9th street path station). so of course i decide to walk. i listen to a lot of third eye blind on my ipod as i walk and feel weirdly fine. i get to the path by 4am and am waiting in the crazy drunk crowd for a train. i'm wearing my headphones, am still kinda in a mood, and considering even when perfectly content i still look like i hate the world, i'm imagining that i'm not looking entirely inviting at the moment so i'm surprised when the guy standing across from me starts talking to me. he inquires if i'm a dancer. i inform him i am not. i think it's a lame line even coming from a stupid 4am drunk guy. then he asks if i'm in my pajamas. i think this is the worst line ever and then i realize that my jacket is longer than my dress and so it just looks like i'm wearing leggings and heels - not exactly sleep wear but i see where he was confused. the path shows up and we board and he's telling me that he's a writer who's been out of the country for the last 4 years, traveling and writing. some weird gypsy-looking chick sitting near us starts motioning towards us, winking and bowing her head. giving us her blessing or cursing us. i'm not sure which. she then passes out. writer guy continues to talk all the way to journal square. he gets off the train and says he'll call me. i do not remind him that he doesn't have my number.

it's 5am. i put my headphones back on. motorcycle drive-by comes on. fitting i think. i remember that my car is parked at the path. finally i'm out of my bad mood.

Philip Seymour Hoffman, will you be my boyfriend?

This) looks fantastic for the following reasons:
1. Phillip Seymour Hoffman. Duh.
2. Daphne Rubin-Vega. Mimi!!!!!!
3. "compulsively chatty embalmer’s assistant"- love it!
4. "an affection for things Rastafarian. (This means he smokes a lot of marijuana, listens repeatedly to the rasta anthem “Rivers of Babylon” and wears tentative, pale-blonde dreadlocks that look like a bad case of hat hair)"- love it more!

I'm totally trying to get rush tickets for this some day after work. Anyone in the nyc area interested in joining me- let me know.

PERFORMANCE SCHEDULE:
Tues Feb 27 - Sun Apr 29
Tues at 7pm (Tues Mar 27 at 8pm)
Wed - Fri at 8pm
Sat at 2 & 8pm
Sun at 2 & 7pm

Unavailable Dates: Sun Mar 18 at 7pm, Tues Mar 27 at 8pm, Tue Apr 10 at 7pm

Rush Tix
There will be a limited number of $20 Rush Tix available at the box office for every downtown theater performance on sale to the general public one hour prior to curtain. There is a 2 ticket limit per person. Cash only.