DEJENNERATE.COM BLOG

Day 3 and Day 4 of Vacation

Day 3 was nothing to write home about. Departed Bufalo via train. Read two Stephanie Plum Books. Periodically wondered why the train bathroom smelled like hemp laced with gorgonzola cheese. Train didn't derail.

Day 4 started off by arriving in Los Angeles at 7:00 am. After being attacked by a Jerry Garcia clone insisting that I have a "Rainbow-y" Day, I arrived at my hotel. Los Angeles is a "love or loathe" city. If you have more plastic in your body than the average American-made car or spend an inordinate amount of time in a same sex relationship with a lipstick lesbian who wears edible panties that sing Come on, Eileen, then Los Angeles is the place for you. For the rest of you who prefer to reside in this stratosphere, LA is difficult to swallow (especially since "spitting" is not usually an option with the high protein diet fad).

In Boston, I'm definately a fat chick, but I'm one of those who are not fat enough that people actually stare at me. Of all fat people in Boston, I am in the average realm. Not true on the West Coast. At least once every trip to LA, I'm regulated to the rhinocerous family. In a land where every restaurant table comes with a complimentary barf bag, I usually have to wear my driver's license around my neck so that I don't get accidentally picked up by the San Diego zoo.

My regulation to the genus of Orca Whale came fairly early in the trip, specifically in the hotel bistro (which is French for Prickish Unemployed Actors Serving Overpriced Cuisine). My agent was tied up (probably by the Come on Eileen singing lesbian), so I went in by myself. My personal unemployed actor came over to me and offered a complimentary derrogatory glare at my fast food physique.

"What can I get for you, ma'am." Ma'am is a derogatory word in LA. In a land where you can't tell the geriatric home residents apart from the Beverley Hills High School attendees, "ma'am" means "You're not even trying, are you?"

"Is the pasta primevera made with an animal base?"

He laughed, and I realized my faux pas. Nothing in LA is made with an animal base. Only in LA can you get chicken soup made with vegetable base and tofu carved to look like minature chickens. I've heard that before they slaughter their farm animals here, they give them a day at a spa and pour vegetable base in the mud bath.

"Well you know, I'm from Boston, and they do not actually cater to vegetarians."

I assumed his genetic makeup was part Looney Tunes character, because his eyes grew wider than any illicit narcotic would allow when he said, "YOU'RE a vegetarian?" At that point, I'm sure he assumed I was a weeble.

"Yes, you have a problem with that?" I said, trying desperately not to rip out his anorexic heart with my olive fork.

"No!" he said, trying to compose himself, "It's just that vegetarians are so scrawny looking."

I narrowed my eyes, "Well sometimes the zookeeper mixes plankton into my tofu to keep my blubber healthy."

"Ma'am...that's not what I meant!" he stammered. Another Ma'am. It's not bad enough he thinks I'm related to Jabba the Hutt, without being Jabba the Hutt's grandmother.

"I'd apprciate it if you called me, 'Miss' " I said, smiling at his embarassment.

"Yes Ma'am...I mean Miss. I'll put your order in right away!" He ran faster than a made-for-tv movie director runs from Tori Spelling. I didn't even get to tell him that I didn't order yet.

The meal I didn't order was delicious, and he "accidentally" forgot to charge me for it. He was probably afraid I was going to send my Orca Whale family to his surfing vicinity.

posted by Jenn @ 9:38 AM  

Day 2 of vacation

My mother has a well documented obsession with any holiday decoration that sings, lights up, or makes a whirring noise. So when the fiberoptic craze started, her humble abode transformed automatically into a 2-story discotheque. To date, she owns a fiber optic moose, bear, village, Santa Claus, snowman, and jack-o-lantern. Due to my sleep deprived state from my Exorcist-worthy experience of yesterday, I made the mistake of uttering the words "Did you see the Fiberoptic Turkey they have for Thanksgiving this year?"

Thus, the Around the Department Stores in 80 Hours commenced.

The mission failed. All of the fiberoptic turkeys in the greater Western New York area were already sold out, which I attribute to either the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade coordinators are running out of ideas for the big ass turkey float, or the local drug clinics were running short on methadone. However, my mother was determined not to go home emptyhanded. She is now a proud owner of a fiberoptic cornucopia which is sitting on her television set in her living room.

Police should just do away with breathilizer tests as they are too easily fudged. If you want to know whether someone is drunk, put them in front of the television set with a disturbing movie playing, like Pink Floyd's The Wall or Good Burger. If they comment on the negative emotional impact of the movie, they are sober. If they can't recall the movie because the technicolored pumpkins and Indian corn in the inflamed cornucopia is causing them to talk to Ralph on the porcelain phone, then you have a DWI case on your hands.

posted by Jenn @ 9:50 AM  

Day 1 of vacation

Arrived in Buffalo at 6:30 am to celebrate my grandfather's 84th birthday. It was a rather uneventful trip except for the fact that I was sitting next to the bathroom with a poor locking mechanism, which caused it to open and close in an Amityville fashion for the night's duration. Oh, and there was the milkshake-thick hemp mist erupting from the back seats which was clearly a copyright infringement of John Carpenter's THE FOG. Not to mention, earlier that day I encountered Seaturtle, my employee who has political debates with the cafeteria bread when it doesn't cooperate with her, and her male counterpart, Rain Man, who spends the hours prior to his work shifts walking in circles around the cafeteria's potted plants (this is the same man who upon my saying "Come on, we're taking a field trip to get our TB shots read" responded with "Do I need a permission slip?"). Somehow I got caught in a conversation with both of these individuals at the same time Halloween afternoon. I thought I was trapped in THE SHINING (especially when Seaturtle's loaf of marble rye interjected on several occasions).

Even though my Halloween weekend already meets the minimum requirements for Stephen King and Anne Rice simultaneous multiple orgasms underneath the WELCOME TO TRANSYLVANIA road sign, the downward sprial into oblivion will surely continue around my familial dinner table this evening. Providing I have not sacrificed myself to the Members of the Undead at that point, I will report back later this evening. And, if you happen to look up in the sky and notice a large number of birds, bats, or random portals to hell circling over the Niagara Falls area around dinner time this evening, I would most appreciate a 911 phone call.

posted by Jenn @ 9:01 AM