gayballs

BringherHeart says that she's waiting for a trip update. She wants me to fill you all in on my awesomness trip.

The thing is, I'm in a few words kinda mood.
So uhh

Okay.
I'll try.

The trip ruled, for the most part.

I landed in Boston and met some crazy looking tattooed up bitch who gave me a cigarette. She told me to go to the north end; that it's the only cool shit to look at while I'm there.

I went to the rental place. Alamo rent a car rules.
I went in and started talking to the girl that works there and she started saying "wicked awesome" and how she lived in Miami Beach for a while and how it isn't "wicked awesome" at all.
We talked about smoking and how much it rules.

She said "you put me in a good mood" and gave me a free upgrade and I got this awesome Volvo pimp mobile with 8 miles on the meter.
My God. I couldn't believe that fucking car. My God.
I mean really.



The girl at the rent-a-car place's name was Erica. I told Erica about the crazy looking tattooed bitch who told me to go to the North End and she said "My mom's got a WICKED AWESOME restaurant in the Nahth End. It's called Pagliuca's. Look for her and tell her Erica sentcha. She'll give you free beeah or whatevah"
She gave me directions to Pagliuca's.
Turn left here, turn right there, whatever.

So I made a deal with myself that I would eat at Pagliuca's because I was asked to go there.

I drove out of the rent-a-place listening to an NPR interview with a superstar air-guitarist I'd never heard of. It forced me to figure out how my new fancy ITrip that I bought for the trip worked, and started listening to the Ultra Dolphins.

I found the North End almost immediately (it's right outside the tunnels outside of the airport), drove around, and found a place to park. The streets were really narrow and like, cobbled and shit. It was really fucking awesome. Old italian men in wifebeaters hung out of their windows and I wanted to offer them my protection. Or have them offer me their protection, more like.
Boston, or at least this area of it, was absolutely lovely.

I got out of the car and walked around with my bookbag, thinking that anywhere I sat I would want my book (The Year of Living Biblically) with me.

I wandered the streets for a bit and I saw a lot of Boston tee shirts and overheard an old man yelling at another old man, "Whaddaya want, a YANKEE CANDLE?"
I still don't know what that means. I saw a lot of bakeries and stopped myself from going into them and gorging to death because I HAD to make it to Pagliuca's. I'd made a pact.
But I was lost.
Images of Matt Damon and Jack Nicholson plagued me. I wanted to press a phone number against a restaurant window and shout "How do you like them apples!?"

I walked around for what must have been an hour-- Erica's directions had proven useless-- until I found myself standing next to a restaurant. I looked at the awning and there it was, Pagliuca's.
I wandered in, not knowing if I had entered through the exit or what. It was about 1pm. I ordered some baked ziti and the waitress-- a real-life eyetalian-- misunderstood me and brought me some macaroni in a marinara sauce. It was alright.
Better for me, I thought, when I saw the bill. It was a lot cheaper than the baked ziti.

Erica's mom, Maria, was nowhere to be found. No free wicked awesome beeah for me.
I've been meaning to call her job to let her know she fucked up, that there was no free beer, and to thank her for the Volvo. Haven't gotten around to it yet.

I left the restaurant with a full belly in search of a few things: A pack of cigarettes, a bakery, and a barbershop.
Everyone had on Boston shirts. Everyone.

I found that place Trani that I blogged about, had my ice-cream stuffed cupcake, and blew out of Boston. It was too large. Intimidating. I'd find my haircut and cigarettes elsewhere.

I took my German luxury vehicle to Worcester, where bringherheart lives. It was an hour's drive. I listened to The Angels of Light and Great Lake Swimmers.

As soon as I arrived I got myself purposely lost. I wanted to see this place. A lot of it was nice. Really nice. A lot of trees. Schools. A lot of Jew stuff. Temple Beth-this and Beth-that.
Even the downtown area was nice. The whole place looked expensive as shit.
I listened to a lot of Coalesce and Cannibal Ox on that drive.

I loved getting lost there and immediately being able to find my way back.

I found a CVS, got my smokes, found a barbershop and got my haircut.
There was a garbage can that said "ALL YANKEE PARAPHERNELIA" at the barbershop. The guy said he was 32, used to work construction. He kept calling me 'kid.' I kept thinking about Matt Damon. He explained to me that Worcester is pronounced Wuhstuh and told me how he likes talking shit to the customers. He told me how to find the nearest NUDIE BAHHHH and said that City Brew (or Brew City) is a good place to meet white girls, since I'd told him that I was tired of Miami's hispanic mess.
I realized that it was the first time I'd ever gotten a haircut in english. I almost didn't know how to tell him what I wanted because I'd always asked in spanish.
It was a good time.

I went to bringherheart's place, after that. She met me outside. She looked good. Hot. Boobs. I don't remember if we hugged.
Her apartment, it turns out, is bigger, nicer, and cheaper than mine. She has a neat little loft above her bedroom. She asked me if I wanted to sleep up there but I was afraid of rolling off and breaking my ribs. She has a nice kitchen and a coffee maker just like mine.
She also, for a girl, has a great DVD collection. We have a lot of DVDs in common. But she has a copy of Boondock Saints. Ew.
I went inside and showered in her tiny tiny shower. When I dropped the soap I couldn't bend over, I had to squat. She also had one of those crazy tubs that has the little feet that hold it up. I've never seen one of those in Miami. I came out smelling sexy as shit because I used all of her girly Lush shit. The chicks would drop dead.
It was a nice place even though there was an angry hungry squirrel break-in a few days prior.

I would regail you all with photos of her beauty but the moment she saw the camera she tried to punch me in the head.

I asked her where she wanted to go and she chose a tapas restaurant. Good fucking place with lots of gay waiters. bringherheart knew all of them. The food was phenomenal. The music, not so much. The wine was fucking great, too. I forget what we had for desert, or even if we had desert. I impressed the shit out of her with my awesome ability to order Spanish dishes without a gringo accent. I swear she fell in love with me right there. bringherheart talked a lot about her job and the kids she deals with. They call her 'Miss.' She seems happy there. I wish everyone loved their job the way she does. It made me happy for her.

We went to the show and I was mad because I'd left my smokes at her apartment. We looked for a place for me to buy more, but there weren't any. As we got out of the car outside the venue a car drove past us playing reggeaton. It made me angry that the horrible, repugnant virus known as reggeaton had slipped out Miami and Puerto Rico and infected a nice place like Wuhstuh.



I was on the guest list and bringherheart thought that I was awesome for my utter coolness.
The show was OKAY. I walked in, hit the bathroom, and took the craziest shit. My last shit for about three days. Daughters were obnoxious and people moshed a lot. They looked like assholes. Machismo and testosterone filled the air.
After their set bringherheart and I watched a guy angrily pace around and puff an unlit cigarette because there was no re-entry. It was kind of fascinating but at the same time I was afraid he'd catch me watching him.

Coalesce brought out more gay moshers. bringherheart got the breath knocked out of her at some point. The whole thing was kind of stupid. The sound was awful. I only knew which song they were playing by the drum beats.

She wanted to step outside before Coalesce was done and frankly, I didn't feel like I'd be missing much, so I agreed. We left.

We hit this awesome bar called The Dive Bar and I got drunk rather quickly. bringherheart knew the bartender. She's a popular girl. I spilled half of a beer on myself. Some of it went on her purse, too, I think.I tried a new beer and loved it, but I don't remember what it was called. I also had a couple of Rogue Dead Guy Ales.
I went outside and smoked a disgusting stogie that Sean, the singer of Coalesce gave me and I felt like dying. pollythundercat called me and I talked to her while I smoked that brown piece of shit. I lost track of time, standing outside of this bar, on a Wednesday night, drunk and peeing against the alleyway wall.
It's awesome how much of a lightweight I am. Some wine at dinner, one piss beer at the show, and some beer at this bar and I was falling over myself. bringherheart was chillin.

The beer ruled and bringherheart's beau, who's name I got to drunk to learn, ruled more. He listened to Amy Grant as a kid, like I did.
Good people, these two.

Haaaaaaaa I said I wasn't in the mood to talk and the first day is already about three pages long.
I'm all out of time.

I'll finish this some other day.