Dear World: I Am at an Event Called "The Dirt Squirts"

I’m Ash, and I’m a writer, traveler, nonconformist & nomad, and every week I’m sharing funny field notes from around the world. Currently, I’m in America writing about what it’s been like to return home to my small town, twenty years after living abroad.

“Don’t mind me, I’m using my hands.” —Guy in booth next to me at diner, who is literally using his hands to eat home fries.

Order cottage cheese. God do I love cottage cheese. This cottage cheese is exceptional, which is hard to find. Usually it’s too sour, too runny, not enough salt, not enough cream.

“Salt Freak” would be the cutest cooking show name.

Also, what do we think about curds? The word is insufferable, but you’ve got to pick a team. Which team are you?? ⬇️

There is a stylish woman at the breakfast bar. White hair, short bob, aviator sunglasses, cup of coffee in a foam cup, watching the news. She must be from Jersey, I decide.

Truck in parking lot: “South Jersey decks.” Probably a hunter. Lots of Jersey people come here to hunt. Makes me nostalgic for my days in advertising sales. Drove to Jersey weekly. Worked for magazine called New Home Guide. Visited builders. Loved job. Hated having gas pumped.

“Sleazeball” is a very 90s word. Quality word. Must use more.

They’re still hawking the bee pollen caps. Same paper mats. Same guy who brings them every month. Gives ‘em to em for free. And they actually use them!!! Oh, the opportunity around here.

Sixty-year-old woman with purple hair serves me coffee. Ask her about bee pollen cap guy. Tell her I am going to start local newspaper and make matching placemats. They will be the best placemats. They must use my placemats.

I WILL GET EVERYONE TO ADVERTISE ON MY PLACEMATS.

Tell newspaper plans to 92-year-old neighbor. “Make sure there’s a crossword puzzle,” he growls. Then proceeds to tell story of being 40-year subscriber of the Scranton Times Tribune. But that he was two weeks late on payment when his wife died. That the Times Tribune cancelled his subscription without a word. That he went out to his driveway and ripped out their newspaper delivery mailbox. That they’ve been calling recently to make him a “special offer”—eye roll happened here—for $3.75/week. But that he was very skeptical: they charge $2/day for daily newspaper delivery, and $4 on Sundays. So, how could they offer him ALL the papers for just $3.75????????? He asked them that very question. They said they wanted him back as a customer. “Bullshit,” he said. And hung up the phone.

He was also very insistent that a newspaper come out on Mondays. “What kind of a newspaper doesn’t come out on Mondays??????????”

Roger is originally from New Jersey.

Woman behind me in the diner has a Jersey accent. Orders egg sandwich “on a kaiser.” I would never say that word. But I sort of wish I were the kind of person who would.

Stanley Tucci wrote new book. Ordered immediately. Titled: WHAT I ATE IN ONE YEAR. Great example of what I’m always telling my students: high concepts sell.

I wonder if Stanley Tucci says “kaiser?”

Yesterday went to event called—not a typo—“The Dirt Squirts.” It was in a field. I drove my four wheeler (still ridiculous to say that) over from the farmhouse. Everyone lines up and tailgates and watches homemade go-karts race one another in a circle. It is officially the most hillbilly thing I have ever done. Make quite the splash when pull out bottle of chenin blanc. Twenty-four-year-old guy beside himself. “Is that a bottle of wine?!?!” KID, LET ME TEACH YOU THE WAYS.

Baby deer waffled outside the cottage. Very unsure how to handle. Neighbor with donkey stopped by to discuss. Worried dogs will eat it. Promised to figure out how to remove.

Do not know how to remove.

Later that night, tractor showed up and removed. I am sure it was the neighbor. She is always so helpful.

Last week rode ski lift for first time (!!!). Then walked down the mountain. Have vowed to become ski god.

Or maybe just renovate 80’s ski lodges.

“Lodge Freak.” That will be the brand. Because we all know that I’m never going to have a cooking show.

A newspaper, yes.

Where I can have polls about curdled milk. And teach people from Jersey how to live in the country. And record what the locals eat in a year. And promote events like The Dirt Squirts. Or my favorite businesses. Or the deliciousness that is chenin blanc.

So long as there’s a crossword puzzle.

And so long as that shit comes out on Mondays.