So, naturally I took my new girlfriend Oksana to see O.B.A.M., at the Delphi Swan Cineplex 22 in Hoboken, just off the 505, north of the Holland Tunnel, opposite Quizno's. It was just the thing, after spending a day fishing for mackerel on Staten Island (how do you say in Russian: there are no mackerel in this river?). The movie, I must say, was just so-so; nothing blew up and AndrÃ?ï¿?Ã¯Â¿Â?Ã?ï¿?Ã?Â© Michel was a big disappointment as Beelzebub, Prince of Darkness, especially after enjoying his performance in the Estonian musical "All My Combines," which Oksana remember with some degree of horror after AndrÃ?ï¿?Ã¯Â¿Â?Ã?ï¿?Ã?Â© Michel dropped his jorts in the Steam Bath scene. Something about the tattoo, I guess. The carmelcorn was good, though. They really pull out all the stops for the H.I.F.F., swirly cheese on crackers and Andre's Pink Champagne, just like in Utica except the cheese was fresh and the sparkling wine was cold. But the real news here is Oksana has become all obsessed with A.M. now and thinks he could be her Soul Mate and so forth and so, tomorrow, we're taking the Dodge I bought off Mr. Mankiewicz for five hundred dollars and a solemn promise not to talk about that thing that happened with him and Svetlana at Peter Lugar's (now that Chryler's gone all Chapter 11, Mr. M is probably laughing his ass off, or what's left of it anyway) -- so we're getting in the Dodge and driving cross-country to Hollywood, California to find the putative start of O.B.A.M. and I'm gonna play matchmaker again and get my newly ex-gf that happily-ever-after American ending she has always, since she was just a little girl in Klin, craved.
At least I got some cavities filled.
We've got a styrofoam cooler for the fish, don't worry.