March 31, 2005

• “Thanks for trying Xanga Premium!”

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

  ….It wasn’t me.  I swear.  I just logged on the other day and there it was.  You would think I would be pretty happy about this, pretty appreciative.  But in all honesty, I was just freaked out.  When the message came up, I let out this gasp, turned my head, and saw my mom smirking over in the corner.  As if saying  “Mwaahahaha, I just gave you the gift of premium.  Mwaahahah.” 

  
  

   

  
  

  So now I have the ‘enhanced’ xanga experience.  Which really is nothing special.  The only special thing about it, really, is that I now feel like a pure-blooded hypocrite.  I make fun of the Premiumers, and now look at me.  I have my own custom-effing-module. 

  
  

   

  
  

  But I guess I’m not entirely a hypocrite, since this was all my mom’s doing. 

  
  

   

  
  

  Anyway, this past weekend I went on a brief trip down memory lane.  The family and I drove to Pennsylvania for an old friend's bat mitzvah and to visit one of my camp friends.  And after driving past a few childhood landmarks over there, a few sad memories over there, a few happy ones over down that way, I decided to compile yet another list for this month’s set of entries:

  
  

   

  
  

  Pennsylvania: The Good, The Bad, And The Hairy

  
  

   

  
  

  1. Rita’s Water Ice:  For the record, Water Ice is just a cooler way of saying Italian Ice. And I spent about one hour every day in the August of my first summer living in New Jersey dedicated to finding out where I could find some. 

  
  

                       

  
  

  “Hey, do you know where I could find some water-ice around here?”

  
  

            

  
  

   “Water ice?  Ehm, no.  But we got ice water…”

  
  

   

  
  

  Eventually, I realized that once you pass the Pennsylvania border, the term ‘water ice’ is pretty much nonexistent. No, no.  New Jersey has Italian ice. And no, no.  New Jersey’s Italian ice does not come from Rita’s.  Ralph’s, man.  Ralph’s. 

  
  

   

  
  

  It was just too much for me.  Reluctantly, I decided that being the Pennsylvania snob that I was, I would no longer spend every waking summer hour mourning over the loss of my favorite icy refreshment.  I had to move on whether I liked it or not. 

  
  

   

  
  

  So I sold my soul to Starbucks frappucinos.

  
  

   

  
  

  However, it wasn’t until October of last year that I tried New Jersey’s Italian Ice.  And maybe it’s because I grew up eating the stuff every summer day for about twelve years.   Maybe it’s because on the first day of spring, everything in there is free.  Maybe it’s because the words “Chocolate gelati, medium” have long been engraved into my dialogue.  Or maybe it’s because that’s where my dad used to take my sister and me every time he visited us prior to the divorce.  Whatever it was, I must say.  Rita’s beats Ralph’s by a mile.

  
  

   

  
  

  2.   The Philly Phanatic:  Everyone can name a certain nightmarish figure that caused a series of sleepless nights during their childhood. Whether it was a slimy monster like the Boogie Man or a ghoulish one like the Grim reaper, monsters have been angrily shadowing themselves over happy dreams for as long as anyone can remember. For me, there was always just one menacing creature that managed to cause me to shiver in my sleep, to hug my teddy bear.  To question the presence of happiness in the world and live my life in intolerable fear.  He looked something like this:

  
  

   

  
  

            

  
  

   

  
  

  Don't be fooled by his friendly wave and welcoming eyes. Deep down he is a ferocious beast. That circular mouth is used to suck the soul out of anyone that seizes to satisfy his desires and needs. That massive green lump he is sitting on is in fact his ass, made up entirely of the talent he sucked out of the Phillie teammates long before they made it into the big leagues. He's only waving because he wants to eat you.

  
  

                 

  
  

                The Philly Phanatic has been accused of the following:

  
  

   

  
  

          

  
  

  Exhibit A: Rape

  
  

  

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

  Exhibit B: Soul Sucking

  
  

  

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

           Exhibit C: Identity Theft

  
  

  

  
  

                       "I swear I didn't spend fifty thousand dollars on automobile repair and  hide a huge stash of marijuana in my closet. That damn green thing stole my social security  number!"

  
  

                 

  
  

  One time, The Philly Phanatic tried to get me. He put his arm around me and all my parents did was whip out their camera and take pictures. Probably to send to the police so they'd know how I died. Eventually, he let me go.  Probably realizing that I wasn’t even big enough to satisfy him as a snack.  He moved onto the fourth graders.

  
  

   

  
  

  A sick creature, that Phanatic. A sick, menacing being.

  
  

                 

  
  

  3. Montgomery Mall:  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  "You live in Short Hills? I LOVE YOUR MALL." Yeah, yeah. Every Short Hills/Millburn inhabitant has heard it all. The Mall at Short Hills is sanctuary for anyone who has a loaded credit card, a love for name brands, and a zest for shopping.  The con?

  
  

                 

  
  

                No food court.

  
  

                 

  
  

  At Montgomery Mall, everyone hung out at the food court.  No one shopped.  The reason for this was not because the food court was fantastic, but because the greatest stores in that mall consisted of Limited Too and Talbot’s. 

  
  

   

  
  

  Needless to say, the court was jam-packed with people.  Of all kinds. 

  
  

   

  
  

  The favorite of spectacles was the weekly Goth convention that dwelled in the back of the court, next to Master Wok’s.  All of them wore black.  All of them had black hair.  And every last one of them had enough acne and grease on their faces to help produce McDonald’s fries for a year. 

  
  

   

  
  

  I just remember watching them in awe as they examined each other’s purchases from Hot Topic and threw food at one another, laughing and referring to Satan every so often. Sometimes they even picked their noses and flicked the boogers at oblivious passerby.  Other times they just ate their findings.  At first I contemplated videotaping them and then sending the footage to the Discovery Channel for their latest documentary on cave dwellers.  After awhile, I just decided to never, ever become a teenager.

  
  

   

  
  

  You don’t get scenes like that in The Mall at Short Hills.  You just don’t. 

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

  There are many other things I could address about my old home, like Q102 and cheese steaks and Mardi Gras in South street.  I could probably go on for the next week or so.  But for your convenience, I'll end the list here.  Pennsylvania was and is currently an awesome place.  Phanatics and all. 

  
  

   

  
  

  But, hey.  New Jersey's cool, too.  Despite the stereotypes, not that many people use hairspray.  This place even has an o-zone layer.

  
  

                

  • 6:48 pm
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