weekend edition.

so i spent the weekend in x, which is so much better than y, where stella and i live. as always, visiting x makes me wonder why, why, why i live in y...but then i remember - y is where my job and house are, so of course it's where i live.

but i digress.

so here are some thoughts about the weekend.

a. suburban housewives over a certain age (let's say fifty), should not take their overly botoxed selves out in fashions which should be reserved for those ages 13 -17. seriously, ladies. you look like overly made up hoochies.

b. big lesbians freak the shit out of me. seriously. in x, as in many cities across the country, this weekend was gay pride weekend. the neighborhood where we went out for dinner and drinks last night is up and coming; trendy bars, trendy restaurants, handsome hipsters. and, last night, lots of lesbians. now i'm up with the lesbians. sure, i'm not one, and sure, my girl crush is gwen stefani. we've all got at least one.

but again, i digress. big lesbians scare me. especially, when walking down the street and lesbian #1 is on the phone arguing with someone, and lesbian #2 gets totally annoyed that her girl is walking down the street with her but arguing with someone else, and then lesbian #2 hauls back and starts whacking lesbian #1 upside the head, right in the middle of the street. ouch.

c. we stopped at a new tapas restaurant for, well, some spanish tapas. the sangria was awesome. the atmosphere was pretty dark and kitschy. the food? awful. i mean, have these people ever actually been to spain? the place was billed as authentic spanish tapas, not fusion-style tapas. and they sucked. the calamari, which the waiter recommended, was gummy and tasteless. the queso de cabra was in a pool of runny ketchup-style tomato sauce. the bread was soft multigrain. multigrain! while inga is all for the grains, not at a tapas place. and not soft. my recommendation? thumb way down. it would almost be worth divulging my real world location, just to sway people away from this place. almost.

but not quite.

d. a bar nearby my friend's house passes its daylight hours as a gathering place for older eastern european men. the owner, in all his swarthiness and pony-tailed glory, sits at the end of the bar, eating raw veggies (for real) and sipping coffee. the squeaky-voiced, ultra-thin waitress scurries about refilling his coffee, cutting more vegetables, serving beer to hang dog looking men who speak in heavy dialects of their native languages. the bar is interesting in itself - lots of mosaic tiles and metal work. the beer is cold. the windows slide open so that on warm summer days and nights a cool breeze blows through. i've only been there in the day.

imagine my surprise when, en route to my friends' apartment last night, we stopped by the bar and, instead of swarthy eastern europeans, it was populated by a young hipster set. sure, the owner was still in his perch at the end of the bar. and sure, the squeaky voiced waitress was running about, but the atmosphere was, well, yes, it's cliche, like night n' day.

must go back. after older swarthy eastern european men, my second favorite crushes are the emo boys. i mean, a girl's got to get sensitivity from somewhere, right?