The Chronicles Of Jessica

Summer has slammed New York city and man, is it hot. And as Conan O'Brian so aptly said, it's like walking through a taxi driver's breath.

I've started making sure that I carry a notebook and pen with me everywhere I go, because I keep noticing these little oddities all around Manhattan that really knock me out. I know that every town has its own idiosyncracies and quirks but in the big apple there seem to be way more of them; more square footage I guess.

The other day I was in the grocery store near my place, and in the produce section I noticed this: you know how green beans are "haricots vert" in French? Vert means green, and haricots are beans. Apparently the produce manager at Central Market is aware of the vernacular, but only vaguely, because the packages of green beans were labelled "hairy covert." I love it! The green beans are not only hirsute, they're stealth!

Then today was the gay pride parade so I was privileged to some excellent people watching. I saw this fantastic old gay guy with a t-shirt that read "Department of Homo-land Security". YES! You don't see slogans like that in Duluth, do ya? (On the off chance that I have readers from Duluth, I apologize for this example. Don't be so damn sensitive.)

The gay pride parade is just some excellent fun, no matter what your sexual preference is. Everybody just lets it all hang out on pride day (and believe me, some folks let it all hang WAY out). There are all these bodies of all shapes and sizes and fitness levels, everybody walking along, chanting and grinning and throwing mint flavored condoms at the gawkers. What's not to like!?

It's just one big love-fest and everybody is happy to be there. It just does you good to see two men in their eighties holding a sign that says "Gus and Elmer - together 45 years." Or two women with little girls on their shoulders sporting t-shirts that say, "You think having one mommy is great - try two!" Not to get up on a soapbox but I wish people that are in such a blind panic about gay marriage were required to meet a few couples like Gus and Elmer. With all the problems in the world right now, I think we could really stand to just let guys like Gus and Elmer and all the other gay americans just...live their lives. You know? I was with a whole lot of same-sex couples today, and my head didn't burst into flames or anything. It didn't make me want to do it with livestock, or something. In fact it made me feel pretty hopeful, and more than a little awed.

Of course this was before I saw the big pink float full of transvestites whose t and a looked waaaaay better than mine; sorta made me feel like my boobs and butt are government issue and theirs came from Armani Exchange. And there is something inherently depressing about watching a bunch of gorgeous gay men flaunting their sexy bods - kind of like being lactose intolerant in a Haagen Daz.

I found out this week that my Pepere, my mother's father, has cancer, and he's not doing too well. So if you have any good mojo and a moment to spare for Pep, beam it out there. My grandfather is a real pistol, he would have made an excellent actor in his own right. I'll never forget the advice he gave me in fifth grade, when I was being bullied by Brandon Rogers. "Well," he said, "you turn an asshole inside out and it's still an asshole."

Pretty Zen, if you think about it, huh? He was always ahead of his time.