Dear Carmen
So I had a day off yesterday and went to Coney Island (I know, but it's still the closest) to bathe in the sun. I keep thinking I can do this without negative consequence. Anyhow, four hours later I am lobster red and my flip flops break right off my feet. I buy new (cheap) flip flops with the british flag on them and pretend like I'm a bumbling tourist. I told the man at Nathan's in my best Liverpoolian accent, "You want to talk about Brighton Beach? Where I come from, Brighton is a faded tourist getaway with whispers of rock candy and prostitutes." He asked if I meant just two stops down on the F train. I said no, you'd have to take a plane or boat to get to the real Brighton, and while we're at it, we Brits GAVE you your country! Alas, I did not receive any free or discounted hotdogs to practice my competition-eating skills. Bummer.
The hot dog vendors! When I lived near there (47th), we had the end of the hotdog line right next to our building. Each sunset, the faithful vendors would cart their cashcows to our block to hose and clean the silver chariots with (almost) boiling water. The resulting smell peppered the air with a certain fragrance that can only be compared to the combination of hot garbage and buttered noodles. We would sit on our roof, wine in one hand, cigarette in another, and softly hum the song "America" from West Side Story. On a particularly feisty evening, we decided to choreograph the opening sequence to our up and coming musical, "Hotdog! The Musical!" If you don't believe me, I will attach the flyer I made to promote. Needless to say, the musical was a whopping failure, mainly due to us only having the first 15 seconds conceived: wild flailing and "oohs and aahs" all while muttering "hot... dog..." If only I had an attention span...
The bbq chicken-on-stick! Two words: medieval fair. Or, Epcot Center. Much love for the meat on sticks. Who was it that longed for more edible products on sticks? Someone smart, that's who.
Well, have fun visiting your (elderly) friend Saturday. I know you look forward to Harry Sundays and I think it's magical that you are able to ride a horse; I'm not sure why, but it's very cool to me.
O! I saw "the Notorious Bettie Page" the other night and when I walked out of the theater, JOHN WATERS was right in front of me! We rode the escalator down together! Wow. He's totally my favorite director and (almost) my idol. I love New York!
Have a great weekend! Keep bugging Greg for me! He's a douche! Ha.
Brad
The hot dog vendors! When I lived near there (47th), we had the end of the hotdog line right next to our building. Each sunset, the faithful vendors would cart their cashcows to our block to hose and clean the silver chariots with (almost) boiling water. The resulting smell peppered the air with a certain fragrance that can only be compared to the combination of hot garbage and buttered noodles. We would sit on our roof, wine in one hand, cigarette in another, and softly hum the song "America" from West Side Story. On a particularly feisty evening, we decided to choreograph the opening sequence to our up and coming musical, "Hotdog! The Musical!" If you don't believe me, I will attach the flyer I made to promote. Needless to say, the musical was a whopping failure, mainly due to us only having the first 15 seconds conceived: wild flailing and "oohs and aahs" all while muttering "hot... dog..." If only I had an attention span...
The bbq chicken-on-stick! Two words: medieval fair. Or, Epcot Center. Much love for the meat on sticks. Who was it that longed for more edible products on sticks? Someone smart, that's who.
Well, have fun visiting your (elderly) friend Saturday. I know you look forward to Harry Sundays and I think it's magical that you are able to ride a horse; I'm not sure why, but it's very cool to me.
O! I saw "the Notorious Bettie Page" the other night and when I walked out of the theater, JOHN WATERS was right in front of me! We rode the escalator down together! Wow. He's totally my favorite director and (almost) my idol. I love New York!
Have a great weekend! Keep bugging Greg for me! He's a douche! Ha.
Brad