claritylit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- longest update ever, or \"I hate New Jersey\" I spent all of last weekend in fuckin' New Jersey for my FIL's 60th birthday party. I hate NJ. I hate the people, I hate the weather, I hate the houses. All of it. Hate. Passion. Fiery suns. Yeah. I also don't much like plane rides anymore, ever since Matt infected me with his fear of flying. 'Cause, dude, you're trapped in a long metal tube with two wings and a pilot, at the mercy of physics and air currents. And physics? She's got no mercy, man. Gravity's a bitch. Anyway, I worked a full day on Friday, and left almost right after the kids. I also forgot my lunch box. Grr. I came home, packed up toiletries and whatnot, and we left for the airport. We arrived at the fabulous Atlantic City International Airport at about 8:30 pm. That's a lovely piece of engineering right there. I guess I should be happy that it wasn't Newark, but it was still in New Jersey, and was small and ugly and smelled bad. As we were "deplaning" and stepped into the gangway, I got a whiff of the amazing New Jersey air. Frangipanni d'la Toxic Waste, right there. What an incredible smell you've discovered! And it's all part of the astonishing New Jersey Tourist Package. Right along with the freezing rain, bad roads, and worse drivers. We took a bathroom break in one of the airport's two luxurious bathroom suites, and headed downstairs to meet my FIL, otherwise known as the Complete Nutcase Who Talks Too Much. Hugs all 'round. Yay. I'm so happy to see you, FIL, because you've been so welcoming and generous. [/bitter sarcasm] FIL went to retrieve the vehicle while Matt and I stood in the frigid rain, surrounded by frowning smokers, trying desperately to inhale the cold air of New Jersey, which improves in comparison with smoke fumes. FIL finally comes with the damn car, which is a 2000 Mercury Grand Marquis. That's what my grandfather drives. The car that made both Matt and I carsick for much of our trip to California. I was hoping that they might have taken some of the marshmallow quality out of the suspension in the newer models, but I was fooling myself. I got in the back of the car to avoid having to converse with FIL, and proceeded to get carsick and chilled. FIL talked all the way back to his house. An hour and a half of driving through the drizzle on wet roads with no reflectors to tell you where the lanes are, with a guy who only keeps half his attention on the road, because he's so busy talking and telling you every single dull detail. By the time he gets to the point of his story, I have forgotten what he was talking about in the first place. As we're driving along in the horrid weather, looking at trees stripped bare by the winter, I'm struck by a sudden yearning for Bryn Mawr. My gracious inspiration, my alma mater, my spiritual home. And all I can think is that I'm so close, and yet so far away. Stuck in New Jersey. We arrived at FIL's house, or rather, his permanent girlfriend's house, and girlfriend's sister and her husband are already there. Apparently, they drove in from North Carolina for the party. Girlfriend will hereafter be referred to as FILG, girlfriend's sister as FILGS, and the husband, if I need to mention him again, as FILGSH. Thank you for your cooperation. Blah, blah. Anyway, FILG had made some carrot soup for FILGS/H, so we had some too. It was good. Ginger, cumin, something else. Oh, and fennel seeds, which I do not care for and would probably use less of. Still, the soup was the best part of the night. Because all that FILG and FILGS talked about was trips the two couples had taken together and all the funny stuff that had happened on them. For another hour. They'd be all like, "Hey, remember that time in some remote part of Mexico or Central America when we did something really cool?" "Oh, yeah, and then that other thing happened!" *peals of laughter* Then FIL would step in and explain the whole damn story to me and Matt, in excruciating detail. I tried very hard to look interested. Finally, I told them I was going to bed, and they could tell their stupid stories without me. Okay, I didn't say that last part. They apparently stayed up until 1 or 2 am. Ha ha ha. I woke up decently early, foraged for some breakfast, and then FILG made some Mexican hot chocolate, which was so good it was almost worth the trip up there. Oh, wait. No it wasn't. Later, Matt and I took the MushMobile and he gave me the dollar tour of all the places he visited as he grew up. *All* the places. He's not his father's son for nothing. Then we headed over to some other little town to meet up with one of his childhood friends, the friend's wife, and new baby. The baby hated Matt on sight, and cried for about an hour. After her nap, she got up, saw Matt, and cried some more. That was actually pretty funny. So the whole morning was spent with Matt saying, and this is Blah-town, and this is Other-town, and this is Third-town, and there's no fucking town. Just houses. I don't know where New Jersey gets off, calling things towns when there's no towns. (We were in central Jersey, the Pine Barrens, for those of you familiar with that particular part of Hell.) His friend lived in Hightstown, which actually did have a town part, with stores and restaurants and such. There was a knitting store which I seriously wanted to go into, but after visiting with his friends for what seemed to be a million years, I was exhausted, and just wanted a nap. So, no knitting store for me. Returned to the House of Horrors, which really wasn't as dirty as Matt said it would be. They cleaned up for the party, I guess. The upstairs rugs still smelled like dog, though. I took a nap for about half an hour, and then changed to go downstairs and face the music. Or, the party. Whatever. So, party, party, party. People I don't know and have absolutely nothing in common with. But, c'mon, Claire, mingle! I tried mingling several times. It didn't work, so I spent most of the time hanging out with the catering staff. They were much cooler. I try to do that social small talk thing, but it just doesn't work out. So, every time I'm put in a situation like that, I give it a shot, then I go find some real people to talk to. This time, I gave it several shots. Speaking of shots, I was drinking sangria all night. Then FILG comes up to me, where I'm chatting with the bartender, and says, drunkenly, "Give me a shot of Patr�n." She then sees me standing there, and says, "You have to try this." I explained that I was already drinking the sangria and didn't want to mix, but that made her even more excited. "Chase it with the sangria," she says. So I drank the damn stuff. I'm not a shooter. I dislike tequila without an accompanying margarita. And this stuff was strong. So I drank it, and then sipped my sangria. Later, I thought my head was going to fall off my body, or that the desire to puke was going to overcome my horror of doing just that. I forgot all about the stupid shot, and thought that there was something funny in the second batch of sangria. It wasn't until the next morning that I remembered that shot of Patr�n. Stupid FILG trying to kill me. We returned to beautiful Atlantic City Sunday morning. I almost had to scream at FIL to fucking stop driving around and just get us something to fucking eat! You can tell by the amount of cursing that I was not a happy camper. Again, for the hour and a half drive, FIL talked all the way. I wondered about an hour into it why his throat didn't get sore, or his voice didn't give out, but I guess he's had 60 years to practice. I took yesterday off, and today too. I didn't think it'd be a great idea to go to work right after that kind of weekend. And then I figured that I wouldn't want my Tuesday classes to get ahead of my Monday ones, and I hate Tuesday's classes anyway, and most of them would miss part of one period taking the stupid FCATs. So, hey. I'll stay home Tuesday, too, and let the sub deal with it. Oh. I just remembered that I forgot to leave the list of FCAT students with my sub stuff. Maybe the sub will see it on the side of my filing cabinet. Yesterday, I only managed to dust the house and clean up the kitchen before I fell down in a coma. Or, you know, collapsed into the recliner and surfed the internet. But today I got up early, and vacuumed the house, mopped the kitchen, and did four loads of laundry. The laundry is mostly bed stuff, so it didn't need to be folded. But still, pretty cool, huh? The last load is in the dryer now, and once it's done and folded, I think I'll head over to Walmart. Maybe I'll stop by the used bookstore on the way. Mmmm. Booooks. 12:39 pm - February 10, 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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