Fortunately I had some friends in town who stayed in New York, so instead of feeding into my preemptive pity party I woke up early and checked my mailbox which I'd been avoiding all week. I was psyched to find two packages of presents and a stack of Christmas cards waiting for me, as well as dozens of little holiday messages from people I love. Also, thank you to the anonymous gift-giver who sent me one of my Amazon Wishlist books! Wow! Who are you? All of these things are very comforting, because I live in constant fear that I am going to die alone and no one will know who I am and won't be able to identify me. I'll end up in an ashtray down at the morgue like these unloved, unclaimed, ghosts:
On that note Merry Christmas! Next year I'm going home to be with my family. So here it is, the most boring Christmas in the world. Enjoy...
Item! Its beautiful up there anytime of year.
Guess what this is? An arcade in Shibuya? The Space Mountain line at Disneyworld? A super hi-tech neon entrance to a futuristic McDonalds that was clearly designed in 1990 in Midtown Manhattan? You decide.
Next I went to Dashwood books on Bond St which is my guilty pleasure. I bought the Dash Snow book, a Terry Richardson scary clown puzzle, and the new Peter Sutherland Buckshots book. My mission to buy overpriced local art books and collectible media from every LES persona is complete. Total cost: $276. But I know that someday my future kids will appreciate it when they're teenagers. I called Justin in a guilt-induced panic but he said that books are his one vice and that no spending limits should be imposed upon book purchases.
I justified all of this with the fact that the owner went downstairs into the vaults and emerged with a book he said cost $12,000. This effort was for a customer who claimed to be Robert Duffy's assistant (a major LVMH Honcho). Apparently 'Bob' was buying a gift for Marc Jacobs. The owner said to the guy 'I showed this to Bruce (as in Weber) and he actually mentioned that he thought Marc (as in Jacobs) would like this.' The owner is on a first name basis with the New York fashion mafia? I always wondered how a bookstore could survive on Bond Street. Now I know. He sells books worth more than adopted babies.
I'm about to get to my boring Christmas story, but first a little flashback to a Christmas I spent in California with David. Do NOT go to LA for the holidays if you can avoid it. It sucks. Why Aviva? You may ask. Because first of all it looks like this pile of shit:
Secondly, there are half-naked gays everywhere. David eye-molested this one under the guise of being "comedic." Neither Christian nor Jesus-like.
Oysters just days before Christmas? In the hot sun? With hot sauce? Does this give you holiday cheer? No, it does not. LA is a Christmas-spirit bandit. Christmas in LA feels like hanging out with a loud, overweight Raiders fan who farts on you while talking about the stripper he blazed at Malone's the night before. Christmas up North, however, feels like winning Jeopardy while Alex Trebeck massages your feet.
And now for the most boring Christmas of all time!!!
The evening of Christmas Eve I met Jeremy and Danika at this chocolate restaurant that serves chocolate meals. Like chocolate pizza and chocolate soup and chocolate everything. You can see in this picture from their bored expressions that their sentiments are merely foreshadowing the level of boredom we were unknowingly about to encounter the very next day...
"Chocolate Fondue: A 1950's Ideal with a Millennial Presentation" I should be a copywriter. I'd make Ogilvy & Mathers millions. Snazzy slogans galore! God I'm bored just writing this.
On Christmas day I went to their house for some waffles and champagne and then headed over to my cousin's house to walk his dog Ollie and get some Chinese. This is David's doorman Eddy who did this elaborate and beautiful Christmas display in the lobby that gave me warm holiday cheer. BORED YET???
We all went out for some Chinese. A classic Jewish tradition on Christmas, usually followed by a movie...
David telling us a boring story. Psych! He was funny of course. That's what he gets the big bucks for.
We ended the night with an unfestive beer at David's local spot 2A. Lesley Arfin came to meet us. She walked in and immediately got bored, poor thing. Everyone who came within a foot of us that night automatically glazed over with boredom, including the bartender and the patrons. The only unboring part of my Christmas was the food. David picked the most DELICIOUS family-style Chinese restaurant. I'm taking my Dinner Club there next time we roll. Believe it or not, it was on St. Marks Place, the Melrose Ave of New York. Grand Sezchwan.
Well here's to you, Most Boring Christmas Ever. I hope I never see you again.