Nostalgia is a funny thing. It’s not rational–the things for which we become nostalgic. Wikipedia sums up, “The term…describes a longing for the past, often in idealized form.” Idealized form. That makes sense. That explains why I get nostalgic so often–I’m quite idealistic. Take that diner there. I only went there once. The service wasn’t great. I ordered a omellete and it ended up coming with both cheese and shell inside. And not just a little bit of shell–two eggs worth of shell. It has since closed, which isn’t a huge surprise– But still I’m nostalgic for it. I’m nostalgic for the person I went there with, the neighborhood surrounding it, and the person I was.
I tend to think that all diners should remain open regardless of their quality or their chances to pass a health inspection. I would rather eat at a crappy diner, in a booth with a torn cushion, served by a waitress missing most of her teeth, where I will be forced to pick dried-on food out of the tines of my fork and pull a long hair out of my ice water, than eat at a chain, fast-food, or upscale restaurant. Diners have character. Diners are America! Diners are pulling a double and drinking burnt coffee to get through it. Diners are truck drivers who haven’t had a homecooked meal in months. They’re laminated menus from which you can order breakfast at midnight just as easily as noon. They’re miniature jukeboxes on each table. They’re plastic cups, swivel stools, and rotating cake displays. Diners are Keri Russell’s Waitress character declaring, “I don’t want you to save me. I don’t need to be saved.” They’re Meg Ryan’s character in When Harry Met Sally faking an orgasm. They’re no frills. Their doors are open, their floors are dirty, and their grills are on.
In short, diners are good.
Posted in America, Culture, Entertainment, Food, Life, Men, Movies, Rant, Rave, Thoughts, Women
Tagged diners, keri russell, meg ryan, nostalgia, orgasms, waitress, when harry met sally
It’s 3am. I just got home from work. I’m sitting on the cot meant for camping that we makeshifted into a sofa, there’s a strange man’s sweatshirt suddenly hanging on a hook in our bathroom, and I’m eating crackers, slices of pepperoni, and orange-mango yogurt. Life really couldn’t be much better. Sometimes you just need a year or so to lead a lifestyle that some people would find terribly unappealing. Hence: part-time jobs.
The thing that’s great about part-time jobs is you get to do such ridiculous things and get paid for it (even if it’s not very much). Sure, no health benefits, no company car, no grueling 12 hour days, but for now at least, I’m happy with the decision.
Tonight I learned that there’s an HGTV show called Sleep On It about buying houses that uses Meatloaf’s “Paradise By The Dashboard Light” as its theme even though that song is all about 17 year olds having sex in a car (Girl: Will you love me forever? Boy: Let me sleep on it, baby, baby, let me sleep on it). Whatever. It’s probably the best duet ever along with Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes’ “Up Where We Belong.”
Al Gore didn’t even need to have Melissa Etheridge write a Grammy winning song for An Inconvenient Truth, he could have just used Joe Cocker: “Love lift us up where we belong / Far from the world we know / Up where the clear winds blow.”
Clearly he’s saying that love offers an escape from the gray wind that is smog in our polluted cities.
Joe and Jennifer making beautiful music.
Posted in Celebrities, Culture, Entertainment, Humor, Men, Movies, music, Random, Rant, Rave, television, Thoughts, TV Shows, Writing
Tagged al gore, an inconvenient truth, CBS, felicity, health benefits, hell, HGTV, iraq, joe cocker, keri russell, meat loaf, meatloaf, melissa etheridge, my house is worth what?, nyu, part-time jobs, pepperoni, pollution, pre-marital sex, scott foley, sex, smog, the unit