It’s no secret that the summer holiday weekends bring a quiet calm upon the city. I love when all the yuppies get in their SUV’s and go to the beach. It’s really the only time D.C. is somewhat tolerable. The rest of the time, I’m torturing Mr. X to move to Brooklyn. (When I think Brooklyn, I’m talking about the Brooklyn with guidos, gold chains, and the best pizza not the Brooklyn overrun with… wait… SUV’s and yuppies who eat couscous and summer in the Hamptons. Ick.)
So what am I doing this weekend? No one cares. The more important question is “What are YOU doing this weekend?”
Friday
Rock & Roll Hotel
9 p.m.
And, tell them at the door that that’s who you’re there to see, bitches.
Brooklyn… hmm. I know someone who’s moving there…
The hell with keeping up with the Joneses, they’ll still be around after they tighten up a bit. I’m getting in my compact sedan and heading out into the foothills, see how this/last year’s vintage came out.
And you keep mispelling it, it’s not SUV, it’s FUV (I swear, that’s a funnier joke when you tell it out loud)
Wish I could be there to support the one to whom I bequeathed my strategically located Dupont Jr. 1 bedroom to. Will the Hostess be there fending off groupies? I am going to be sleeping in a tent in the heart of Pennsyltuckey.
If you move to Brooklyn then I will know that you and E are fucking each other behind my back and there will be hell to pay! HELL!
The place you want with the guidos and gold chains still exists, but they call it New Jersey now. Brooklyn is overrun by yuppies now who dine in pan-asian bistros and only grab a slice of heavenly pizza that they don’t deserve when they are in a rush. Pearls before swine…
“Sleeping in a tent in the heart of Pennsyltuckey”
First thing that popped into my mind when I read that in no particular order: the dueling banjos of Deliverance and the X-Files Episode entitled “Home” about the inbred family who lives in, you guessed it, Pennsyltuckey.
I’ll be playing tour guide again this weekend, this time for my bestfriend and his girlfriend.
1) Deliverence toook place in Georgia (my home state) and I have no problem squealing like a pig. I have no idea why people are so disturbed by that.
2) that X-Files episode is my second favorite. It was the Peacock family to which you are referring and they kept Mom/Sister/Wife who had no arms and legs, on a rolling platform under a bed. If I meet them, I will take photos and post about it next week.
Nina: here is a riddle for ya…do yuppie swine in Brooklyn wear ribbed orange sweaters with their pearls?
I still wouldn’t know a music blogger if I ran over one.
I remember Ma/Sis/Wife Peacock. I’ll always remember that voice, as well as her complaining to Mulder and Scully about the War of Northern Aggression.
If you meet Ma/Sis/Wife Peacock and the remaining Son/Husband/Brother Peacock, say hello for me. Well, the guy can’t talk so you’ll have to squeal at him.
Ninja, will we ever live there again? Damn it! I’ll run over some yuppies in my speedracer. It will be fun.
If you’re getting some pizza in brooklyn, I would recommend:
DiFara (although the wait is killer since the Zagat people discovered it)
L&B Spumoni Gardens: in my old hood, with great spumoni and awesome sicilian pizza
DaVinci’s: but only for sicilian pizza
Totonnos: oldest pizzeria in the US.
Have fun killing yuppies. Don’t worry about overdoing it, it’s not like there’s a shortage of them there.
And sixes…the only reason you bring up orange and “ribbed” in a post is because I’m not one of the people who wants an orange quigley from you.
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=orange+quigley
Brooklyn is just the Rabun County/appalachian mtns of NY, but with buildings instead of trees, and sewage runoff instead of creepy rivers.
Ninja: I’m sorry, I can’t talk to you now. You’re too poor [for Brooklyn].
Sixes: Velvet and I are in a monogamous relationship. We met on Match.com. You should try it!
And to your riddle: the yuppies wear ribbed CONDOMS (everybody’s doing that safe sex thing, you know) and give their girlfriends pearl NECKLACES. Not sure where you got “orange” from.
I don’t think E is old enough to remember the orange ribbed sweater controversy.
I don’t have anything to say about Brooklyn, pizza, orange ribbed sweaters, orange ribbed condoms, cultured pearl necklaces, semen pearl necklaces, X-files, Deliverance or yuppies, but I could write a story about it.