Asphalt Adventures

Here's a little weekend recap:

Friday night Allison came up from Philly. So good to finally see her and i can't fucking wait until she moves to Jersey this summer so we can be bffs again and do girly things and talk about boys and have sleepovers and pillow fights. Err, something like that.

Weekend plans to attend the infamous Mermaid Parade, gorging on Nathan's hotdogs, and getting high in the Wonder Wheel in Coney Island were ruined (sadly) on Saturday due to shitty weather so Joe and I opted for an adventure up to Spanish Harlem to view the Graffiti Hall of Fame, or a bunch of really wellknown taggers paint the side of Jackie Robinson Elementary School. Unfortunately because of the rain they weren't actually out tagging but some of the murals were stellar. Spanish Harlem might just be my new favorite neighborhood in the city, mostly because the air..not just a street or a certain spot...the entire fucking air for BLOCKS smells like delicious latin food. We walked around the hood taking in the olfactory bliss and decided to stop at a small diner to sample some of the various fried pork items in the front window. The menu on the wall was not in english and didn't have prices. The only thing i even remotely recognized was "chicarrones, empanadas and plantains". Thanks to a very friendly (and english speaking) Dominican dude sitting at the counter, we ended up ordering (or having him order for us) 10 freshly fried plantains w/garlic sauce. Sweet Jesus it was good but sat like a brick in my stomach for hours after.

Aferwards, we trudged down to MoMa with the intention of viewing the new Dada exhibit but w/only an hour left until the museum closed we decided to tool around with the tourists (and skeevy locals) at Manhattan Mall instead--the only real "mall" on the island and the only place in the city with an ARBYS (according to Joe, who's claimed to have done some research on the matter). I haven't been to Arbys in at least 2 years. I fucking love that place. Thanks to my loverly, I was in a heroin-like haze of roast beef and curly fries within minutes. He's the fucking best.

Sunday I followed Joe to a comic book convention, which proved to be the absolute most dorkish experience of my life. I was hoping for some douchy dudes dressed up as their favorite character, but no such luck. Even the roster of D-list actors signing autographs was disappointing. I didn't spot a porn star in sight. However, watching Robert Vaughn entertain himself with the New York Times at an empty table full of unautographed headshots of himself was almost so pathetic it was worth the trip. Plus we scored a copy of "Garbage Pail Kids--The Movie". So terrible but so good.

Unrelated side note: I'm exhausted this eve and opted to stay home get high, eat ice cream and watch My Fair Brady and Hogan Knows Best on VH1 than go to the park for the usual weekly bout of Kickball and big buds at the Turkey's Nest. I think i've truly reached an alltime low in reality tv addiction.