faux americana

my weekend has inadvertently become a celebration of american stereotype:

friday; dinner at the buffallo grill
- there were photographs of native americans covering the walls like a themed bennigans
- my co-workers asked if we actually learn about the native peoples at school
- and one even said " chief joseph - that cant be his indian name can it?"
- i had corn on the cob. they scoffed at my indelicacy. i reveled in the buttery goodness
- most of the menu was steak. i had the peppercorn and lemon.
- i had to explain jambalya

friday; community theatre guys and dolls
- they all sounded like bobby deniro in the untouchables
- on crack
- and with tampons shoved up their noses
- adelaide was a watered down lina lamont
- there were paper stars and stripes on the newstand
- it was positively adorable
- and atrocious

saturday; lupe pintos
- a mexican deli
- ... is really and import grocer with stove top, betty crocker and their ilk
- i bought a whatchamacalit. hersheys is unheard of (did i tell you the time i brought back hershey kisses and everyone was thrilled because they had never seen a real one and wondered if they really all had the little flags? yeah. arthur giving them to francine would have been lost. no wonder aardvark picture books are in a slump here.)
- and pace salsa

saturday; junebug
- totally one of those indie family pastiches
- absoultely hilarious
- and depressing
- americana on film makes me sad for home. even if its appalachia baptists, it's closer to hicksville midwest catholics compared to here. i miss my boppa.
- worth seeing even if alessandro nivola couldn't pass for a southern boy in a million years, he is fucking adorable

saturday; home
- call mom
- call sister
- wear flannel shirt
- hum showtunes

and although kitch and wrong and oh so very very bad in places (yes i know oversized flannel died with cobain), it still has a little piece of me aching for home. because, as the fairy tales tell us, no matter what kind of hell-hole farm you are from, there is no place like home.