The Garden State of Euphoria: here comes little nocturnal me

So today I drifted through an ice-capped fire of burning wood (read: Jersey City). There I was, back on my old playground. The air at 2^nd and Monmouth smelled the same as it always had: like tar, dirty water, and minestrone soup.

Today I found myself living la vida mocha back in the good ol' JCNJ, putting (what I hope to be) the final touches on this campaign audit that I'm working on.

It felt kind of nice, sort of reminiscent to be back in the Jersey City office. Things have changed a little bit (there's new carpet… thank heavens), but for the most part, everything is the same. I was there all alone, so I cranked up the music and got to work. It reminded me of (one of) the time(s) that Amanda and I, frustrated and frazzled beyond words, turned up the tunes and danced like madmen in front of the huge picture window facing Newark Avenue at 11 o'clock at night, giving a big "F-you" to the empowerment of anyone but ourselves.

It also brought to mind a certain evening when we were moving furniture and bringing about some much needed re-arrangement to the office. Somewhere around 2:30 in the morning we wrapped things up and I disappeared to meet a new friend, drink some wine, eat some (much promised) ice-cream, and make myself totally late for an early morning diner meeting in Westfield. I made it to my meeting, and grinned silently and secretly to myself the entire time.

I kind of miss Jersey City. I don't miss the commute, and I don't miss the parking situation; but I do miss the cozy little office, the pet shop boys next door, and the baker dorks across the street. I miss the $1 treats at the little Korean bodega across Newark Avenue(Steven's Market).

I had defied and dreaded going to Jersey City all afternoon, but I knew it would be good for me to get away from the house and to get some work done on my own, less the crying babies, barking dogs, and obnoxious roommates (read: family).

I rolled home somewhere around 8:30 in the evening and felt pretty damn relaxed. I poured myself one, then two glasses of wine, and in my wine-induced state, wandered right over to MTVland, where I (unsurprisingly, in the tradition of Undressed, Singled Out, and the like) saw one of the most horrifying things ever.

Kallissa Miller. You might be familiar with some of her work. She has brought us some of television's greatest! Among them? Dismissed.

You might recall.

She has also brought us a new program entitled "Date my Mom".

Oh, the pain. It was so bad that I couldn't stop watching for a few moments.

Mothers.

These were MOTHERS completely pimping out their daughters.

It works like this, see: some bonehead guy is chosen and he has to take three moms out on a date. The purpose of the date is to give the mom a chance to convince the guy to date their daughter. This is usually done by inflating the daughter's looks, breast size, body type, sexual habits, talents, etc. Of course, the moms think the world of their daughters. And I really do believe that Donna sincerely thought her daughter Sabrina looked exactly like Jessica Simpson, but I feel like everyone involved in this project just…

You know what? I don't know.

I don't even know if I want to talk about it anymore. It was that damaging.

All this, and what I really came here to say tonight is that I have this little pair of shoes that I'm not quite sure what to do with (read: what do I wear them with and how do I prevent developing horrible blisters while walking around in shoes made of synthetic materials?!).

Disclaimer: more links will be added later when my server is back up and ru-u-u-unning.