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The Springtime Adventures of an Underemployed Urban Elf

Rev. Jen and John Thomas Foster pick up supplies at Gary’s Liquor, one of the few venues they were not thrown out of during a quest to make the ultimate “Girl Scout Cocktail.”  Photo by Claire Ensslin
Rev. Jen and John Thomas Foster pick up supplies at Gary’s Liquor, one of the few venues they were not thrown out of during a quest to make the ultimate “Girl Scout Cocktail.” Photo by Claire Ensslin.

BY REV. JEN  (rev-jen.com)   |  It’s that time of year again, when the Marshmallow Peeps come out to roost on the shelves at Duane Reade and the Universe hands you snowflakes one day and swamp-ass the next. Newsflash: Every SINGLE PART of the world has gotten hotter and is melting (insert obligatory photograph of a confused polar bear floating on an ice cube) EXCEPT for the Northeast of the USA. Forecast: We’re doomed.

As the world’s most renowned Infertility Goddess, it’s my duty to tell you all to stop breeding now — because we are on the eve of destruction. Thousands of dead sea lions have washed ashore in California in the past few days, so start taking care of Mother Earth. As my friend, Rob Paravonian, once pointed out, “If you are going to drive a Hummer, drive it to Iraq and get the oil yourself.”

That said, Happy Spring! Enjoy the earth while it lasts! This installment of The Adventures of an Underemployed Elf is all about how to do just that. What to do with your time in the one week we have left? Here are my tips!

LOOK AT PEOPLE!
Springtime means that delectable New York bodies come out from hiding, and sausage swings commando under lightweight Levis, finally freed from the prison of Long Johns — while Sideboob Saturday is illuminated by the sunshine…oh wait…lost my train of thought. Anyway, speaking of going commando…

BE COMMANDO GIRL SCOUTS
Be Commando Girl Scouts. Every year, my roommate gets Girl Scout Cookies. He is very slender and can therefore eat them while I can only watch due to fluctuating cholesterol levels and the metabolism of a Slow Loris. Yet the Girl Scout Cookie phenomenon fascinates me, in that while the Girl Scouts masquerade as loveable children, they are actually a street gang who are out to poison America and make us obese. As my fit roommate munched down on his recently delivered cookies, I did some online research, which revealed that a few varieties have even been discontinued due to their trans fat content.

Concerned parents have urged the Girl Scouts to address this and other health concerns about the cookies, suggesting that the cookie program was at odds with the Girl Scouts’ healthy living initiative. The Girl Scout organization replied that the cookies were a treat which “shouldn’t be a big part of somebody’s diet,” just as mounds of cocaine shouldn’t be a part of anyone’s massive drug habit. Luckily, said discontinued treats were not Thin Mints or Samoas. My guess is that if there is ever a revolution in this country, it will start at a check cashing place, a walk-in medical clinic or the home of someone who can’t get Samoas delivered to his or her door. What I find most interesting about the “Cookie Debacle” is that weed is now legal in a few states while some Girl Scout Cookies are banned. Oh, the irony! Who wants cookies more than stoned people? When this country finally gets its ass together maybe they can combine both Girl Scout Cookies and weed.

My investigative research also revealed that a few inventive folks (who were probably stoned at the time) have posted recipes for D.I.Y. Girl Scout Cookies online. A few other people (who were also likely stoned) have posted recipes for “Girl Scout Cocktails.” The “Thin Mint Cocktail” looked especially appealing. I mentioned this to my friend, John Thomas Foster, and light bulbs went off in our heads. What if we were to make our own Girl Scout Cookies and Girl Scout Cookie Cocktails and sell them on the Lower East Side? We could compete with those little shits and maybe make a killing in the process. Obviously, outfits were needed! Luckily, the Internet provides for moments like this. Via eBay, I found two dashing uniforms.

Though not “official” Girl Scout uniforms, they came with sashes imprinted with “666” and skirts short enough to show off our sexy, Scottish legs. Less than a week later, they arrived. Proudly, we put them on and attempted, in the freezing cold, to march to Essex Street Market where we hoped to obtain ingredients to make Samoas. We were sidetracked by Lucky Jack’s (129 Orchard St.), which happened to be directly across the street and shone with the promise of beer and basketball. Speaking of balls, it turns out our skirts were so skimpy that John had to borrow a pair of my largest granny panties lest someone think he was attempting to deliver an inappropriate package. Despite our best efforts at propriety, we were asked to leave the bar after two rounds because we were “causing a scene.”

As we were being escorted out, our friend, Claire, joined us in order to shoot video of the Girl Scout Experience. Traipsing down Rivington St., we decided to wander into Babeland (94 Rivington) to examine their panoply of sex toys. It turns out cameras are not welcome and we were escorted out in less than five seconds. “I’m a proud woman!” John announced as we were booted to the sidewalk. From there, we made our way to Economy Candy (108 Rivington), attempting to buy soft caramels for the aforementioned Samoas and for reasons that we have yet to determine, were quickly thrown out. Defeated, we finally got to Essex Street Market (120 Essex St.), where we managed to obtain baking supplies without a hostile reaction. We then sexily traipsed to Gary’s Liquor (141 Essex St.), formerly known as “KGB Liquors” and obtained ingredients for our Thin Mint Cocktails. (We were not thrown out of the liquor store.)

What a day! It probably comes as no surprise that we were too exhausted to bake by the time we got home, so we just made the cocktails. Comprised of Baileys, vodka and diced mint, they were so delicious we attempted to deliver them to neighbors — but no one answered the door so we drank the entire batch ourselves, took a bath and passed out. No Merit Badges for us! The Girl Scout Experience might have been a failure but other things are looking up.

More on how to make springtime rock:

The constant application of cucumbers to their peepers will help Rev. Jen and John keep up appearances for those all-important day jobs.   Photo by GEORGE COURTNEY
The constant application of cucumbers to their peepers will help Rev. Jen and John keep up appearances for those all-important day jobs. Photo by George Courtney.

GET ENGAGED!
If you’ve noticed that the quality of my column has gone down, it’s because I finally met my match and have spent most of the last year dislocating my Tempurpedic mattress from the bed frame. Yep. I’ve dated every crazy below Houston, north of Canal and west of the East River. I have even reached out to those in Bushwick, Bed-Stuy, Jersey City, California, London, Detroit, Munich and pretty much the entirety of the United States of America. Because my BF Joe Heaps Nelson and I can’t afford to advertise our love in the New York Times like many rich assholes do, we are officially announcing our engagement in this publication. Realizing we are two of the only eccentric artists left in NYC, we have decided to latch onto each other for what I am sure will be an emotionally draining hell. Maybe we’ll get a KitchenAid mixer out of the deal. (Date to be announced…)

Rev. Jen and Rev. Jen Junior at Double Down Saloon (“where you can hang with your dog, smoke and drink or simply bask in the sunshine before the world melts.”).   Photo by Joe Heaps Nelson
Rev. Jen and Rev. Jen Junior at Double Down Saloon (“where you can hang with your dog, smoke and drink or simply bask in the sunshine before the world melts.”). Photo by Joe Heaps Nelson.

GO TO DOUBLE DOWN SALOON (14 Ave. A)
Where did he pop the question? At a bar, of course, where all misguided decisions are made. But Double Down might be one of the only cool, cheap bars left in this town. It also serves something called “ASS Juice.” Despite this, it’s got a romantic ambience and a backyard where you can hang with your dog, smoke and drink or simply bask in the sunshine before the world melts.

MAKE EASTER ROCK!
I’ll be honest. I never went to church. Easter confuses me because I only got through like three pages of the Bible. My parents basically let me watch cartoons and eat Count Chocula every Sunday morning so I still haven’t figured it out. I’m pretty sure “Good Friday” is when Jesus died, which I would be redundant in pointing out, doesn’t seem good at all. But then, I am pretty sure, he came back to life on Sunday and that’s Easter. Somehow this holiday also involves a giant bunny coming into your house when you are a child and leaving you candy, which is awesome.

In the ‘70s my siblings and I were taken to the mall around Easter time, and forced to sit on the lap of said giant bunny who completely creeped me out, mostly because you could see its defeated human eyes through the mesh of its mask — and unlike talking to Santa, you couldn’t ask it for, say, a Barbie Dream House because you knew it would just bring you a basket full of Peeps. But never mind all that. Easter should be as cool as other holidays. Treat it like it’s New Year’s Eve and go nuts. A good way to start: Check out the Easter Egg Hunt at Lucky Dog in Brooklyn (303 Bedford Ave.). It’s on Easter, and unlike church, they serve more than a shot of wine. Finally, in what might be the most surprising news of the decade, I got a job!

GETTING A JOB
Getting a job is not the most fun thing in the world, but it did save me from eviction. Unfortunately, it’s above 14th St. and in an office. Fortunately it’s above a bar and a block away from where my fellow Girl Scout, John, works. We have done our best to keep our good looks despite our constant hustlin’, via cucumbers on the eyes and memberships at Blink Fitness (16 E. Fourth St.), where we hope to sweat out our Thin Mint Cocktails. Maybe we’ll get our merit badges after all!