Everyone Loves a Boston Girl

It’s seriously a wonder that I don’t weigh 300 lbs. I ate a lot of food this weekend, and I loved every second of it. I’ve been getting way too excited by food lately. On Saturday I went to the Phantom Gourmet Beach BBQ and was in heaven. First of all, I have to say, I’m not a huge BBQ person; I mean I like it, I eat it, but I never really get crazy excited over it.

Maybe it was because I hadn’t eaten all day. Or maybe it was because we waited in line for over an hour and a half. But the food was sooo amazing. We waited in line for Willingham’s BBQ from Memphis because everyone was raving about it, so we figured, it we’re gonna do it, we’re gonna do it right. No regrets. I legitimately stuffed my face. Didn’t care that everyone else in line was staring at us eating our food. Didn’t care that I had BBQ sauce everywhere. Didn’t care that I ate my pulled pork sandwich plus ribs in about 5 mins. Didn’t care that I’ve never eaten so much food in such a short period of time in my life. And I was smiling the rest of the day. I’d seriously consider hopping on a plane to Memphis for more of that.

The people at the “BBQ Beach Party” were of a mixed variety. I was expecting a lot of hickish NH sketchiness (yeah, I’m saying it) but I’d say it was mainly your average Boston person. Lots of interesting sites/people to watch though. One guy had a shirt on that said “meat is murder.” Why is he here and why is he in line for ribs??? Not really the best place to make a statement about the evilness of meat. We were confused, until we read the rest of the shirt: “Tasty, tasty, murder.” HA. In order to drink beer, you had to stand in the beer garden, which probably kept the place a lot tamer than it would have been otherwise.

I personally miss the Phantom Gourmet days of Billy Costa and I am not a fan of the Andelman clan. Wait, that’s the understatement of the year. I can’t stand them. And I don’t like funding events by them because quite honestly, I think they’re the most annoying people to ever get a job on TV and I refuse to eat at Kowloon or Firefly’s because of them and their excessive raving (not a fan of Kowloon anyway and their 84302 page menu…with items named after the Andelmans…and nasty sushi. I know, don’t ask me why I got sushi at Kowloon, my bad). My point is, I didn’t want to fund an event by them, but I did and I don’t regret it. Though I did get the strong urge to beat Dan Andelman up when I saw him (and the woman asking for his autograph…because I bet that will be valuable someday!).

And I’ll be funding the Phantom Gourmet once again when I go to their Lansdowne Street Food Festival in September, which I cannot wait for. And it’s 21+ so I’m sure it will be even more fun/entertaining. I hope Trani doesn’t run out of their ice cream filled cupcakes this time. Woww, I’m kind of sad, huh?

I always knew my older sister was a know-it-all, but now there’s scientific evidence to prove it.

I don’t really believe that she’s more intelligent than me though. We’re just smart in different ways…at least that’s what my mother always told me. Awww, she wouldn’t lie, would she?

That’s kind of depressing…definitely not telling the sister. Damn it; if she really is smarter than me, then she probably already knows.

Despite this news, I am literally ecstatic to see my sister at our family reunion in about 2ish weeks. And I’m sooo counting the days down until she moves back to Boston. Visiting Chicago has been great, but it’s not going to get any better than having my sister in the same city. I knew she’d miss Boston too much to stay away for too long. Yay.

“An older sister is a friend and defender – a listener, conspirator, a counsellor and a sharer of delights. And sorrows too.” -Pam Brown

Something I take for granted living in New England my whole life is the fact that we live so close to the ocean. I remember when I was about 8 years old and I went to visit my cousins in Pennsylvania. They told me they had never been to the ocean and I was basically in shock…how was that even possible (consequently, my aunt had only recently been on an escalator so I’m not sure why I was so surprised). I grew up spending summers at the Cliff House in Maine, at the ocean in Cape Cod, and taking plenty of day trips to the beach. These people had never seen waves. Seriously. Now it’s already June 20 and I haven’t been to the beach at all yet…granted summer doesn’t officially start until tomorrow. Making myself get plenty of ocean time in this year, or I may as well be in PA learning how to ride escalators.

Along with the ocean comes the best seafood around. Last year I went to visit my sister in Chicago and we went to a steakhouse for dinner. I was so not in the mood for steak and the salmon sounded delicious. “Ummm,” said my sister, “I wouldn’t get salmon in Chicago if I were you.” “Huh? Why not?” I wanted to know. “We’re in the Midwest; you live in Boston. Wait until you go back.” I never really thought about it like that, but I guess it makes perfect sense. My sister said she didn’t bother eating much fish in Chicago because it just didn’t compare.

I went home for Father’s Day on Sunday and we had the best dinner ever. My mom and I went to the Lobster Tail in North Andover and got lobsters and crabcakes. My mom made garlic bread, pasta salad, and corn on the cob and I legitimately pigged out. When I was a kid I wouldn’t go near any type of fish, especially lobster; I had no idea what I was missing out on. My sister, who has always loved it, has developed an allergy to it and her lips get seriously puffy and gross if she goes near shellfish (maybe a side effect of living in Chicago too long). Ha, but when she comes home she eats it anyway and deals with the misery. $70 for 3 lobster seems kind of ridiculous but it is soo worth it.

Sometimes I think about moving somewhere else but I’m not sure I could ever go too far. I seriously heart New England.

Why do so many stores think it’s classy to throw their sale items in big bins and then think they’re going to sell the stuff? Honestly, there could be a perfectly nice item of clothing that I would love and want to buy hanging on the rack, but as soon as it’s thrown in a bin, it is not attractive anymore. Even if it is 60% off. I went to Copley w/ my friends tonight and both Express and Victoria’s Secret were having bin sales.

Express basically chucks all their clothes in cardboard boxes and writes the size in magic marker on the front of the box. But it doesn’t even matter what size you are or what the box says because you can guarantee the XS box is going to be mostly full of XL clothes anyway. Every piece of clothing is completely tangled up with every other piece of clothing and it can take an hour just to pick up a shirt you’re trying to look at.

Victoria’s Secret at least uses semi-nicer bins and “professional” prints of the size signs, but every single thing in the sale was pretty much ugly. What is with Victoria’s Secret and butterflies this season? Butterflies=trashy/ugly/creepy to me and I have no desire to have them all over my clothes and underwear. And there were soo many people in the store, it was basically impossible to even get to any of the bins to look at. And once again, right when you think you find a nice pair of underwear in your size, you pick it up only to find it’s a XXL. Plus, who really wants to buy intimate apparel that every person in Boston has already had their grubby hands all over? Ew, not me.

I’ve decided bin sales are a conspiracy to get you into the store to buy the full-priced items. You see a 60% off sign in the window, go in to look, and leave the store having bought bags full of non-sale items. Because they look appealing hanging on the racks or folded and put on shelves. Clothes thrown in bins don’t.

Today I was invited to Israel by a native of the country who seemed shocked and impressed that I had ever heard of the place. Maybe he supposes Americans are even more ignorant than once thought. He sat beside me while I was sitting on a bench in Coolidge Corner reading a book and just started talking. It was fine; I love meeting new people/talking to people, even if it is blatantly interrupting my concentration. But there’s something about a random guy sitting next to me, asking me where I live, telling me I should go to Israel to visit him, and telling me how beautiful I look that’s a little unnerving.

Finally I think he got the point that I was trying to read and said he would go. “But will I see you again?” he asked. “Umm possibly, I’m around CC a lot” I replied. “Well, how about I call you?” Ugh. That’s where the ever useful imaginary boyfriend comes in handy. “Yeah…I have a boyfriend; not sure how he would feel about that.” He finally shook my hand (ew…Purell please) and left. Only to walk by half an hour later to tell me “how amazing I look” (ew, ew, ew), shake my hand again (ewwww), and leave for good…I hope.

I’m trying to break out of the “rude Bostonian” mode and be nicer to people, but oftentimes I think I understand why Bostonians are known for being rude. Whenever I’m nice, I get put in the awkwardest of situations. Sometimes it’s easier just to mind your own business and keep to yourself. I wish it wasn’t this way. But in most cases, you can’t immediately distinguish the weirdos from the non-weirdos. And that’s when you thank God for imaginary boyfriends.