Crazy Crap Item #82: The part where I am remiss in recording my travels

Here it is, almost June, and I've yet to recount any of my adventures in New York.

New York, you gasp. Heavens to betsy, whenever were you in New York, Kay?

See, it was so long ago, you don't even remember I went. But let me fill you in.

I have a number of friends in the Big Apple, mainly through my connection with what we like to call the Northwestern Mafia East (NME) -- friends from my grad school days who went to make their fortune in Gotham after graduation.

The main purpose of meeting was a visit to my good friends Monsieurs Czajka (Chris) and Boudreaux (Jonathan, but commonly referred to as Jdog). For those who do not know him, Mr. Czajka is a tarot-card reading, PBS-website-creating, "Little House on the Prairie" fanatic from upstate New York. We met at NU during a production of Sunday in the Park with George. Jdog is a DVD-reviewing, paint-by-number-painting, classic sitcom fanatic from Cajun country. Together, they're one of my favorite couples.

Jdog has been in ill health for some time, and I was honored to be their first "recreational" guest since before the troubles. Jdog, still in recovery mode, is limited in terms of his ability to cavort, so the goal was to produce mayhem and hilarity without taking the subway during rushhour, venturing out into rainy weather, or habituating nightclubs, opium dens or other generally overcrowded environs.

I'm proud to say that we succeeded in both the fun-having and the crowd-avoidance.

Here's the blow by blow:

Thursday

-- Trip to the airport, courtesy of Eamon (who couldn't join me due to work conflicts).

-- Arrived at Queens, about 6pm, just in time to receive a gracious greeting from Jonathan and welcome Czajka upon his return from work.

-- Dinner at a lovely Italian restaurant, the site of my hosts' first date some 10 years ago. Inexplicably, this was their first return visit. Bad memories? All I know is, my ricotta cheesecake was quite good.

-- After dinner, Czajka queried as to the state of their pantry, since Jdog and I would be staying in the next day and would need lunch. Jdog responded, in a morose tone, that they had only "Lean Pockets." This led to a weekend-long running gag, in which any inquiries about what one would eat were responded to with a mournful intonation of "Lean Pockets," sometimes followed by a sigh.

-- Once it was determined that Lean Pockets did not constitute a fitting luncheon for a guest, we sidetracked to the grocery store to pick up some tasty odds and ends, including an Entenmann's "Louisiana Crunch Cake." Jonathan took exception to the pastry (and lobbied strongly against its purchase), pointing out that lacked both any authentic connection with Louisiana and anything that crunched. Czajka tersely pointed out that they couldn't very well just call it "Cake."

-- At the grocery store, we made perhaps the best purchase of the weekend, a packet of adhesive jewels of all shapes and colors! Big city glamour, for the low, low price of $2.69!

Friday

-- Off to work for Czajka (his last day of work before a luxurious two weeks off).

-- Left to our own devices, Jdog and I amused ourselves with their vast collection of DVDs. Jdog announced it was guest's choice, and I selected the 1938 film Nancy Drew - Reporter, starring the irrepressible Bonita Granville. The amusing elements of this film are too numerous to recount, but I think my favorite moment was when Nancy and her sidekick smuggled an old-tyme camera -- complete with flash powder wand -- into a jail, then tried to surreptitiously snap a photo of an inmate. Hilarity.

-- Next, we watched The Libeled Lady (1936), a pleasing but somewhat draggy madcap comedy starring William Powell, Jean Harlow, Spencer Tracy and Myrna Loy. It was no Thin Man, but it amused.

-- After naps, we greeted Mr. Czajka upon his return from the salt mines, who brought in tow Michael Shattner (aka Mr. Shittner, aka La Shattner). Mr. Shattner is also a member of NME. He is a cello-playing, cat-owning, half-Canuck actor.

-- The plan for the evening: order in Thai food and screen the original film version of The Posiedon Adventure. Czajka and Jdog were shocked -- shocked! -- to learn Michael and I had never seen it. They, of course, own the DVD. If you are among the ranks of those of us who have never seen the film, by all means, partake liberally. While watching, we decorated ourselves with the aforementioned adhesive gems. I slayed Mr. Czajka by placing a line of blue gems running down my cleavage, and noting, "They draw the eye down." We were also vastly amused to note that the Maureen McGovern song made famous by the film -- the one with the lyrics "there has to be a morning after" -- is actually not entitled "Morning After," but instead goes by the title "The Song from The Poseidon Adventure." I am not kidding.

Saturday

-- Early arisal! We're due for an 11am brunch in Midtown with other members of the NME, including Mr. Shattner, Mr. Curtis Moore (he directed me in a production of Nunsense), Mr. Tom Mizer (formerly Steve of the roadshow version of Blue's Clues and my former classmate in Literary Theory), and Ms. Nicole Roberts (daughter of actor Tony Roberts and successful voiceover actress in her own right), along with various romantic partners.

-- Then we repaired to Nicole's glamorous 20th floor Manhattan condo, and played a variety of board games, including Uno, during which it was underscored again and again how sexual the spewing forth of playing cards is. During our visit, Nicole received delivery of her brand new Urban Rebounder, which she immediately demonstrated for us.

-- Once the fun broke up, Jdog headed home, and Czajka, La Shattner and I strolled to a lovely sylvan park to soak up the unseasonably summery weather. On the way, we indulged in Eamon's new game of creating new -- and hilarious! -- movie titles by replacing one word with "anus." I'm still proud of Raiders of the Lost Anus.

-- Next, we retired to a small wine bar for drinks and cheese so as to prepare us for...

-- "Confessions of a Prairie Bitch," the stand-up-cum-tell-all-memoir by Alison Arngrim, better known as Nellie Oleson on Little House on the Prairie. And just when we thought evening couldn't get any stranger, we had drinks with Alison herself after. We suspect she hepped up on goofballs. She jawed our ears off, but in a way I found nearly impossible to follow. But her act was hysterically funny. I also managed to get a wonderful signed photo, with a personal note to my sister that referenced a running gag from our childhood that involved Nellie Oleson's mother. Priceless.

Sunday

-- After the unending mayhem of Saturday, we opted for a quieter itinerary for the Lord's Day. We spent a leisurely, lolling morning, then headed out to the various open houses in the neighborhood. The boys are looking to buy an apartment, so we needed to take a tour of the Queens real estate market -- in all its stinky, cramped glory.

-- Afterwards, we ambled over to Forest Hills Gardens, Czajka's fave neighborhood, which was once home to vaudeville stars, now a sylvan retreat lined with pseudo-Tudor mansions.

-- That evening, Mr. Shattner joined us again for yet another evening of DVDs, starting with "Hello, Hollywood, Hello," a fabulously horrible documentary about the world's largest cabaret show, which ran for almost 20 years in Reno's MGM Hotel.

-- Next came "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane," that masterpiece of overblown gothic decrepitude. This led led to the perhaps the best quip ever: as Joan Crawford complained of hunger while knitting furiously, Jdog ventriloquized: "I'm going to knit myself a porkchop!"

-- After the film festival, Jdog went to bed, and Czajka, La Shattner and I stayed up till 3am playing "Name that Tune" with the Show Tunes channel of Czajka's on-demand cable radio (and I pretty much mopped the floor with it).

Monday

-- As I was leaving later that afternoon, we kept our schedule light, planning but one Mario Party game to fill our day. Much to everyone's surprise, I won, which allowed me to indulge in a favored tradition, the triumphant shout, in faux Japanese accent, of "Daisy the weenah!"(My character is named 'Daisy,' and she had a Japanese accent in an earlier edition of the game ... it's long, inscrutable story).

-- Then it was home again, home again, jiggedy jig!