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The true nonadventures of Little Big Chris, a wee Irish-Mexican insomniac pushing 30 and pursuing It-Boy status in NYC.

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Southern Comfort

August 31st, 2002

Can I take a second to brag about my fantastic grandparents? G’ma and G’pa absolutely floor me sometimes. Ever since I moved to New York, it’s like they became these urban-savvy hipsters out of nowhere. We’re talking cell-phone swapping, Columbia House-buying, DTV-watching, internet surfing, Tracy Chapman-listening metro-trendoids. My g’pa owns MOULIN ROUGE on DVD (the special edition). My g’ma likes Tracey Chapman. Who these ppl? It makes no sense, I absolutely love it. So I’ve spent the entire day chowing down on good southern food. We had a bigass Texas breakfast and I hung out with my little sister, who is even prettier than last time I saw her, she’s studying to become a photographer. Every few minutes she’ll see something and we have to stop everything so she can take a picture of it. It’s cute (for now), but the next time she squeals and makes me put my mini-discman down so we can go take a picture of a squirrel on the road… I might have to take the camera away. The weather is nice and breezy, my g’parents have some land out here. Texas is goregeous right now. Not missing Gotham too much.

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