Lest you think we loll around in the park taking nips off our brown-bagged fifth of Old Crow and reading young adult fantasy novels EVERY weekend.
1. Attended Extremely Hip Art Opening, where we witnessed a gentleman who bore a suspicious resemblance to Salvador Dali performing Talking Heads covers, and managed to not do anything particularly embarrassing. As opposed to, say, the last Extremely Hip Art Opening we went to, where we said quite loudlyto our Support Team, "Look! It's the guy from TV on the Radio!" and then realized the other guy from TV on the Radio was standing directly behind us.
2. Seized by the Spirit of Adventure, boarded the LIRR with Support Team, got off randomly at Easthampton, and wandered around until we found the ocean. Easthampton is sort of like what would happen if Norman Rockwell had embarked upon a heavily-funded experiment in isolationism and eugenics with Coach and Ralph Lauren as corporate sponsors. We are not certain the good people of Easthampton were prepared for the full splendor of our august personage (i.e. us stumbling along its bucolic byways in a sweaty, sun-stroked stupor, clad only in our fluorescent pink tiger-striped bikini and Adidas Sambas, in search of snacks/the ocean (do rich people not EAT? WHERE ARE THE SNACKS OF EASTHAMPTON?), while saintlike and long-suffering Support Team encouraged us gently to drink more water and put our clothes back on), but traumatizing the undeserving wealthy while paddling about in the warm bosom of the Atlantic is an infinitely more pleasing experience than roasting oneself a handsbreath away from half the adolescent population of New Jersey on the syringe- and beer-can-strewn "shore" of Coney Island. The last time we were at Coney Island we were obliged to spend the bulk of our afternoon fending off the amorous advances of a very determined gentleman who addressed us as "Boo," sported what appeared to be a home-arrest monitoring device about his ankle, and who had recently taken the waters in his undergarments, which clung rather suggestively to his admittedly very muscular physique. Flattering as such attention is, we do prefer a certain degree of mutuality in our romantic endeavors, and will patronize the suitor-free sands of Long Island from now on. Maybe next time we'll go to Montauk.
3. Watched our first Werner Herzog movie ("Encounters at the End of the Earth"). AMAZING. We feel a particular spiritual kinship with the lone deranged penguin fleeing suicidally for the hills. Monday! We're ready for you! Bring it ON, slush pile!