The streets outside the hotel were full of clubwear-people in lines for clubs. As Crocket and Sandra were showering Chris and I snuck away. In the morning they asked where we had gone. “Clubbing” we said.
More accurately we had waited in a fuschia-lit line twice (post dresscode rejection) and then thought $20 was too much to dance to some mall-ass songs.
Upon arrival in Virginia I slow cooked farmer’s market .99/pound tomatoes with fresh basil/oregano and red pepper flakes and made a mock parmesan with cashews/nutritional yeast. We offered some to the Page Bond gallery staff but they just took pictures of our picnic and put it on their blog.
Virginia to DC was an easy drive after a night of craft beer/couchsurfing and a vegetarian-restaurant Reuben for breakfast.
We walked around in DC and looked at the stuff you’re supposed to look at. There were pineapples at the botanical garden. We have been dreaming of pineapples and wanted to take one.
Most of our time was spent at the Hirshorn Museum/Smithsonian. The courtyard of the Smithsonian was the best piece. I will live in there.
In the evening we stayed with a friend of a friend and made Vermacelli salad with hell of herbs, sauce, and vegetables while watching parks and rec.
I got a nice couch to sleep on and in the morning we went to a vegan restaurant staffed by hotties where they had COCONUT MILK for their fucking coffee. They also had the best goddamn cookies I’ve ever tasted. Vegan Reuban for breakfast AGAIN?