o'clock in the afternoon in broad daylight. I'm not really a fan of watching random people have sex. There's a reason why amateur porn doesn't sell as well as the real deal - its unattractive. Watching people that don't look good get it on is pretty icky, but somehow it seems even worse when they look like crackheads.My husband of course noticed nothing. I've included this little map so you can avert your eyes as you pass the area that I like to call "Homeless Sexy Time". Do not, under any circumstances look to the right while going Northbound in the red circled area. Don't say I didn't warn you.
The rest of the ride wasn't helped by the constant chatter of the rodeo clown looking fool next to us. He was apparently from Lancaster and decided he was going to explain the Amish religion and its people to the Asian lady across from him. She clearly had no idea what an Amish person was and I'm sure his description didn't help. "Y'know they don't have cars or lights." She looked confused.
A 300 year old religious sect and that's his explanation...
You know what...I'm pretty sure the two dudes back there having sexy time don't have lights in their cardboard boxes or a car and something tells me they ain't Amish.
Despite the train ride, we had a good evening at Jimmy's No. 43 in the East Village. Pretty good selection of beer and a nice atmosphere. This was only improved upon when we stuffed ourselves the next morning at Le Pain Quotidien with bread and praline spread. Since we first went to this place in Brussels we never pass up a chance to stop. (There aren't too many things I would rather be doing than eating their black bean humus tartine.)
We then dragged our food stuffed bellies to the Whitney for the Biennial. I'll start by saying I like modern art and I'm not one of those people that say stupid things like - "Man, I could totally go out and paint a bunch of Campbells soup cans, that's not art." But I do have to say that I'm quite certain some of these people got their asses kicked in high school. Case in point - look at this thing. Do you remember when Beetlejuice's arms got all long and spindly? That's what this looks like. Or maybe like black rubber sausages flying out of the wall.I did see alot that I liked by Matthew Brannon & Karen Kilimnik. You can check them out if you like although I recommend paying the $15 and seeing it for yourself. Plus if you do you can stuff yourself full of black bean tartines and isn't that really what it's all about?
So after a good day I acquiesced and let my husband talk me into taking NJ Transit home. Immediately I was visually and audibly assaulted by these people who were training their two year old for some sort of child fighting ring. Sort of like dog fighting involving diapers and small people. They entertained themselves by letting her slap both of them wildly. Then when she would stop, her mother would antagonize her by saying "Daddy's mine!" which would send the kid into a wailing tizzy. She would hit her mother and then put a death grip on her father while screaming "Noooooo Daddy Mine!". Good times, good times.
That was my only source of entertainment until Wesley the Costco Pimp got on the train (yes he still had his work name tag on). This dude was a dead ringer for an older, drunker version of Gregory Hines. Three big rings on his right hand, a fedora and matching tie & pocket square. It started with him screaming somewhere behind me on the train. I think he suffered from Tourettes-Narcolepsy. It's new - screaming profanity one minute and falling asleep the next.
I think they should but this in the tourist guides - Travel by train from Philadelphia to NYC - see Homeless Sexy Time, Rodeo Clowns, Two Year Old Fighting Machines and Tourettes-Narcolepsy. And they say the bus is bad...
1 comment:
OK 1. Homeless people have to have sexy time too. They can't help it if they have nowhere to do it;-) And 2. I don't say I can paint cans, but I can do the scribbles on the canvas next to the dada/surrealists room.
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