crush cubed!

i was cured all right

As noted below, Amber Bear arrives tomorrow afternoon. She'll be shopping and enjoying herself during the days while KM and I slave away at work.

(Note: today's slaving has included discussing my Halloween costume with Paul and, as noted below, applying to culinary school.)

Friday night brings clams at Trout, I believe, for a Bon Voyage get-together for Josh. I look forward to introducing AB to everyone.

Saturday morning Next week brings an appointment with an admissions counselor at the French Culinary Institute...!

(Note: this means I cannot go balls-to-the-wall like I did on Sunday night [but I probably shouldn't].)

So, yeah, Halloween costumes: what do you think? Supergirl, Polaris, Poison Ivy, Starbuck, or the ol' frat boy-esque standby that I've been discussing for years: Alex from A Clockwork Orange? VOTE OR DIE!

heat

I just submitted my application to culinary school.

I feel like I'm going to throw up.

so terribly charming

As I attempted to extend my vacation to the very last minute, I didn't get home and into my own bed until around 8:30 pm last night. This is despite flying back into JFK at 6:30 pm on Sunday. Yes, I hopped off the plane, went directly to Moonshine for "29 on 29" (with luggage in tow), slept on KM & Josh's couch, hung with boys yesterday, and begrudgingly went home to a stack of junk mail and an unmade bed. Call it post-vacation depression.

Not many pictures are up yet (save for ones of the party and a few of me and my bro) but they will be soon.

If I close my eyes, I can imagine myself in St. Thomas.

The summer is winding down. Tomorrow brings August (and Amber Bear). What a summer this has been; I've felt a little off my rocker the entire time. I've partied like it was the Summer of Action all over again.

Maybe I need autumn to arrive, if only so that I may have a bit more money in my bank account and reacquaint myself with the gym.

No; the summer is winding down and it really bums me out.

i can see my toes

I did it: I visited the clothing-optional beach in St. Maarten. Now, I won't give you any of the sordid details, but let's just say it was fun and no, I didn't go with my family. Gross.

(Though my aunt and uncle did happen to spot me, but that's another story for another time...)

Today, while floating in the crystal clear water at Magen's Bay in St. Thomas, my brother and I had a great talk about following one's passion. This is the truth: I've been wasting my life at my job. All I do is Gchat with others who actually have work to do (in fields that some of them actually enjoy). It's a ridiculous way to spend my time. Some people envy me because I have no stress while on the job; believe me when I tell you, however, that I'd rather be stressed than bored. My brain is atrophying. Again.

He's voting for culinary school. It's something I've always tossed around, as many of you know. The FCI in New York has a 9-month part-time night program that I could attend while still "slaving away" at the HMO. It's a thought.

I return to New York tomorrow. It's been a really nice trip. More deets later.

the basics

This sums up my vacation:

I am drunk.

No, wait, I am hungover.

I am thirsty.

I am full.

I am tired.

I am hot.

That is all.

still flyin'

Despite Porkchop's predictions, I have not been spending my entire time on this cruise vacation in the Internet cafe. No, on the contrary, I have snorkeled, kayaked, danced, eaten, slept, been sunburned, swam, and on and on and on. This is my first trip on the Innerweb. For serious!

Seriously: it's actually been pretty nice. No fights with the family thus far.

My mom tore her ACL on the first night when my dashingly handsome cousin decided to dip her on the dance floor. She's been on crutches and in a wheelchair ever since. She's just about the strongest person I know; if I were in her situation, I'd become a recluse. She's instead been at the pool every day and still enjoying her nightly champagne.

I wrote a few of you postcards yesterday while drinking an afternoon Bloody Mary poolside. You'll receive it, I'm sure, within a month or two.

All in all, though: things are going very well. I wake up, go on some sort of excursion (tomorrow we are at sea and so I'll just relax by the pool, but Friday brings a clothing-optional beach!), sleep, endure the fact that my brother and I have to share a room, feel lucky that I have the most amazing brother, eat dinner with the 11 others in my party, miss my friends, dance, apply sunscreen, et al. I keep reminding myself that I will miss this when I return to Brooklyn.

Yesterday I went on a sailing and snorkeling trip in Aruba. On the way back from the snorkeling site, I lay down at the front of the ship, on my belly, rum punch in hand, and let the ocean splash over me. I ended up with a wicked sunburn on my back, but, Jesus, it was worth it.

If anyone wants to kayak the Hudson, I'm game.

Hope all of you are having a most pleasant week.

XOXO

ship shape

This cruise ship has not only a rock climbing wall but an ice skating rink.

Yeah, I know.

If my mother thinks I will accompany her to any Broadway-esque shows, she's got another thing coming!

My plan: drink at least one Bloody per day, read my books (this and this and Jesus, this still -- and yes, I should have picked more beach-y type reads or something about the Lusitania or something), kick ass at trivia night, run on the deck track daily, snorkel, sunbathe, take a spinning class, bicycle in Aruba, dance to the bad discotheque music, not gamble, not eat past 1:00 AM, kick my brother's ass at miniature golf, remember the sunscreen, talk to at least four strangers per day, not fight with the family, and not give two thoughts to anything else.

Bon voyage.

size six

I knew I really didn't want a bagel for breakfast but I left the house before eating anything. A bagel it would be. "Our toaster is broken," he said. "That's fine; I can toast it at the office."

Instead, I start a minor fire in the kitchen.

No bagel for me.

Breakfast was coffee.

Lunch would be a frozen meal, and while cheap and unsatisfying, I'm certainly not going to buy more food when I'm leaving for eight days.

I pull the hot meal out of the microwave, where it had been hanging out for exactly four minutes. My stomach is growling. I need sustenance. Coffee is not a sufficient breakfast.

It slips out of my hands and onto the floor. Upside-down.

No lunch for me.

Lunch is water.

The universe doesn't want me to eat today.

spice world

I was listening to the Clash and to Belle & Sebastian on the way to work this morning. I was still very tired, though I slept like a rock last night after dipping out early on the boys. (Boys, I am sorry. Fatigue doesn't even begin to describe what I was feeling. I <3 all o' y'all.)

I arrived at work to an email from a recruiter from the CDC asking me if I could interview today in Atlanta. This woman is obviously a genius.

I must return the following books to the library: "The Third Policeman" and "The Hero With a Thousand Faces", both of which remind me that I haven't felt geeky in a while.

I leave for the cruise on Saturday. I have mixed feelings about going on the trip, which I know makes me sound so terribly spoiled. Family vacations aren't necessarily the easiest for me, but I'll be trying to get some good Jen-time in while visiting the following locations:

Saturday, Sunday: San Juan, Puerto Rico
Tuesday: Oranjestad, Aruba
Wednesday: Willemstad, Curacao
Friday: Phillpsburg, St. Maarten
Saturday: Charlotte Amalie, St. Thomas

I return to New York on Sunday, when I shall be tan as fuck.

I'm taking Monday the 30th off, as my new philosophy is that one should always have a recovery day after vacation. Always.

Fun times, hurry up and get here.

cracked out

I'm just a weeeeee bit tired today, but am a trooper and will push through. I must, you see, because tonight is The France: Part Two with Panna 2 dinner beforehand (I think; I hope). If you missed The France on Monday night, this is your chance to experience a serious mind zapp.

Oh, and if you haven't seen the Michel Gondry-directed Cibo Matto video for "Sugar Water", please do.

Oh, and if you haven't tried Coca-Cola Cherry Zero, please do.

These are just two of the things that have made me happy this morning.

snail mail

Yo, kids, I know some of you don't see the value in postcards, but I'm going on this Caribbean cruise 'n shit next week, and I'd like to send you one.

('Cause I wanna make you jealous of my international travels.)

If you'd like to be on the receiving end, (privately) send me your address.

star struck

My horoscope:

"It's not a laughing matter when someone criticizes you in a way that hurts your feelings, but remember that it may not be as intentional as it seems. It isn't always easy to hear the truth, especially when it's stated so matter-of-factly. Instead of hearing only the negative aspect of what's said, reframe it in a way that gives you somewhere positive to go with it."

I'm not loving life today.

In other news: um, you should start reading Cinematical. My friend Porkchop writes for it. He is a real blogger. If you like movies and/or you like Porkchop (which you should -- both of 'em), you will like Cinematical.

I give it two thumbs up! Freals!

vote for hope

I haven't thought about getting to the gym, the 2008 Presidential campaign candidates, serious job hunting, watching a television show on a regular basis, the NYT Sunday Styles section, baking cookies, listening to "Lost" podcasts, or updating my Netflix queue in I-don't-know-how-long.

Lately, all I think about is enjoying good times with friends, G'chatting all day, texting all night, and crunk jamz on the iPod.

This is, apparently, what 30 looks like.

every day is a wasted day

Nothing better than showing up at Union Hall and giving hugs to ten or twelve dudes in succession.

The France brought the house down tonight, folks. I scored myself a sassy lil' planet-print neck scarf. Thank you for playing "Ice Age"; I expect to hear "Coming Out Party" on Wednesday.

(And thanks, Scarny, for the bite of that jalapeno slider. Yummers!)

boy, i can't wait to blog about this weekend

Friday:

Back and forth with Scarny and Josh about the night's goings-on. Supposed to hit up the city and meet at Black & White at 10:30, perhaps? Scarny's at B-Side with a brew and a desire to hang. Let's do that. I train it to the EV and walk ever so slowly in my shoes that keep slipping off of my feet. I should have cabbed it, I know. Walk in and there's Scarny with a Peeb for me. Thank you, my friend.

Josh meets us, we play some G 'n R, some J & MC, and exit on Fugazi. Hit up Black & White. Ben from "Felicity" graciously allows me to cut in front of him in line for the bathroom. (Yes, it's the second time I've seen him. He's just as cute in real life.)

The Purse Drama of the Evening (that keeps rearing its ugly head): somehow the contents of my purse hit the ground while I'm away.

Josh, Scarny, and I stay a bit longer and the boys talk to girls; I text and make some calls. Scarny cabs it home and Josh and I hit up San Loco. (Note: if you want to wake up hangover-free, this is your place.) I have the cab drop me off a mile from my pad 'cause apparently I have no idea where I live. Get home around 4 AM. Barefoot and alive.

Saturday:

Awaken and decide it's the perfect day for a trip to the beach. Solo. Grab my camera and a towel and "Watchmen" (will I ever finish it?!) and make my way to Coney Island. The beer vendors yell, "Hey, don't sit there looking like a mannequin; get up and get yo'self an ice cold Heineken!"

Scarny calls. Apparently it's not the day for the Frog Parade after all! Oh no! He's on Smith Street in a striped shirt and jaunty beret! (Striped shirt, yes; beret, no.) I ditch the beach after sunning for a few hours and meet him at Bar Tabac,where he's befriended a Keanu Reeves look-alike and then head to GYC for pitchers. Josh meets us there. Justin-the-bartender hooks us up. (I like that guy.) The mist is a nice touch on a hot day. Alan is wearing a shirt with a strawberry print. (I like that guy, too.)

The three of us settle up and head to Porkchop and Colleen's amazing apartment for a housewarming party. Chips and salsa and the biggest olives ever are consumed. Wine is consumed. Cigarettes are smoked. KM arrives! (It feels like it's been years since I've seen you!) A good time is had by all. KM and I leave to meet Jendy and hit up my bro's show in the LES. I'm pouty on the cab ride. (Sorry, KM.) We arrive at the club, as do my parents, which is actually really fun and Mom feels like one of the girls. Before I know it, I'm dancing with Mom and buying her drinks and then, all of a sudden, I'm in a cab heading back towards the party.

Party winds down and we hit up Moonshine. I play pool. Quite poorly. Paul arrives, luggage in tow. I befriend Carol. It's getting late. Do I want to go to Splish Splash tomorrow? Um, of course.

Sunday:

We awaken, clean up, train it to the city, hit up Bed Bath & Beyond and Old Navy, and then join Brandon, Carol, and Porkchop in the Zip Car and weeeeee're off to Long Island! "Mr. Blue Sky" is played. "Got to Get You Into My Life" is played. Porkchop has the bitch seat.

We've finally made it! ("It's really happening!") We kick things off with a tram ride. Lines abound, yes, but we ultimately ride many a water attraction: Alien Invasion, Dragon's Den ("It's a funnel!"), the blue tube, the black one, and others. Carol and I cheer the boys getting their enemas on the Cliff Diver. We enjoy water theater, "One of you shall betray me" tattooed on a man's chest, and a dude sporting a blue goatee. We groan at the PDA. We eat popcorn chicken and nachos. Biggest highlight of 'em all, howevs: we see a beaver! Or a woodchuck! Or a big rat! (Long Island is, like, the country or some shit.)

The park closes. We are tired and wet and I am cold with chattering teeth. We find a diner and I eat a veggie burger with real veggies. The cole slaw is sweet. The soup is lukewarm. Garett figures out the check like a genius. We get caught in traffic. I have the bitch seat. Brandon is a skilled driver. We make it to the city by 11:15 PM. We all sincerely hug it out and go our separate ways.

I am tired.

I am exhausted.

The weekend to end all weekends?!

i'm two

Happy 2nd birthday, blog.

if you love me then i'll love you back

I found out about twenty minutes before I left work yesterday that Nick Cannon's "Wild 'N Out" was preventing me from seeing Fabrice Fabrice at the UCB Theatre. (As Amber Bear so keenly put it, "Why does MTV suck so much Nick Cannon cock?")

As noted below, I was bummed.

I walked the two miles home, ate tempeh and broccoli, and began a series of texts with Josh to plan the night's activities.

Me: "Beer?"

Josh: "Girls?"

Me: "Cerveza?"

Josh: "Girls!"

Me: "No girls."

Josh: "Beer?"

And on and on for two hours.

We eventually met up at Trout ("Trout?" "K" "30 mins?" "K") where Noreen was working and thus, got really hooked up with a couple of pitchers of Victory and much food for Josh (corn, pulled pork sandwich, cole slaw, pickle, watermelon, French fries). They played "Kiss You Back" by Digital Underground, which I hadn't heard since the tenth grade.

Walking to the train, we decided to hop into GYC for a moment. Apparently, so did the Department of Health. No more smoking at the GYC, folks -- or, rather, in 75% of the outdoor area. Who knew that a series of opened umbrellas constituted indoor seating? Not us and certainly not the GYC. (I do have some love for Bloomberg, but c'mon; taking the smoking outta the GYC is like taking the cheese outta quesadillas. Or something.)

Learned that Justin-the-bartender is a writer. ("Mostly literary and commercial.") Lives in Fort Greene. Fort Greene is so hot right now. Like Day Glo.

I had to pull myself away from Josh and Justin-the-bartender at 1:30 AM but not before being told that Josh was to have The Pass tonight. I have both Porkchop & Colleen's party and my brother's show tomorrow night; can I party three nights in a row?

I'm not as young as I used to be.

trout

2:06 AM Josh: justin wouldnt let me pay

2:07 AM me: what?
really?
wtf?
i just got home
i hate the train
2:08 AM and this dude was trying to talk to me
and i was gonna throw up on his face

2:09 AM Josh: gross
what did he say

me: i have no idea
i never listen to dudes like that
2:10 AM i need to not text anyone after midnight!
i think i texted, like, five people
ridic

Josh: yea pull the kill switch

me: freal
why isn't it friday?

2:12 AM Josh: its friday the 13th
go to sleep
im going to sleep

me: i must sleep
sleeeeeeeeeep

Josh: yea

me: talk to you soon

Josh: sleep
oeace
pace
peace

me: sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
p

empty

I am on my second large coffee of the day.

I am tired.

I am going to see Fabrice Fabrice tonight.

I am excited bummed.

Ummmm...

I got nothin' else.

pink frost

It's the Summer of Summer Breeze, kids, but rather than find a Summer Jam 2007, I have found myself only wanting to listen to gems from Echo & the Bunnymen and The Jesus & Mary Chain -- and now I find myself listening to the following by The Chills over and over again...

that is so raven

Tomorrow night at the UCB Theatre:

welcome to the future

My friend just recently became acquainted with the World Wide Web and is having a difficult time navigating his way through the blogosphere.

This is my response that is not posting.

I am reading Mantissa by John Fowles. I don't read a lot, so all you fucking nerds out get off my back. Here are two reviews from amazon, five stars and one star.

John Fowles KICKED by Muse!, By Carra R Lane (Bishop Hill, IL United States)

John Fowles minus his usual novelistic costuming relaxes, writes brilliantly, reveals craft secrets, pokes gentle, if firm, fun at both himself & the business of literature, adores/insults his muse & is properly inspired/kicked for his trouble. MANTISSA is sweetly funny, roughly true, a deft tale of the endless left/right (or male/female or rational/intuitive) mind combat which is the natural environment of creation, the brainswamp from which much of our best writing emerges. Complete with a terribly nice pun on the names of a writer & a shrink, adequate eros (every bit of it strictly imaginary), & some charming intermusine backbiting, in the end. Astounding! Hilarious! The Nubile Prize for Metafiction!

Don't bother!, By R Bell (Dun Eideann/Edinburgh Scotland)

Many books have been labelled "verbal masturbation", but this is the real thing. John Fowles indulges his sexual and literary fantasies, entering them from every angle he can manage until he expends himself. What results is not "one man's interaction with his muse" as one review called it, but unreadable and pretentious and not remotely sexy subporn... that wouldn't have been publicised - or noticed - if they hadn't come from someone as well known as Fowles.
Some of the parts, such as his encounter with a black nurse, and a guitar wielding dominatrix muse read like something out of a bored private schoolboy's diary.

It's a pity, because John Fowles was once a great writer... but this book and "Daniel Martin" do him a great disservice.

Mercifully short, and that's it's one bonus.

"Not remotely sexy subporn"?

I think we've found a winner!

woof

Ladies and gents, KM's very own Polly Disco is in the running for Brooklyn Industries' Top Dog -- and though we already know she's a Top Dog in our hearts, won't you go take a look at her on their site?

Won't you leave a sweet comment?

Won't you please vote for her on July 18th?

Yes, you say? Yes, you will?

Good. Thank you.

(Props to Shaina Fishman for the photo.)

libri

It's that season again: time to help me decide on my beach read! Hoo-fucking-rah!

Long-time readers may recall that I had many suggestions last year, but chose none of 'em.

Thanks, folks. You really came through for me.

I ended up reading "The DaVinci Code" with no sense of irony whatsoever while sunning myself on Kiawah Island. It was a light, quick read. Easy. Generally entertaining.

This year, I'll be island-hopping in the Caribbean for a week. I depart in eleven days. I want something like last year's read. Maybe something by Scott Turow? Maybe John Grisham! (Perhaps I've got the LSAT on the brain.) Maybe something true crime-ish? (KB, perhaps "The Black Dahlia"?)

Gimme suggestions, punks.

(Yes, that means you.)

more

Here.

a smile from a veil

Days four and five (Saturday, July 7 and Sunday, July 8, 2007)

• Tour of Atlanta with KB as guide
• Brunch at Front Page News
• Bloody Hot (Not for the squeamish; I am super duper tough.)
• World Market furniture and Christmas trees
• Oliver's first birthday (Cutest kid ever.)
• Vegan cake and cookies and an ice cream bar
• Hugs from Z
• Rushing to change into wedding attire
• That rad green couch
• Hydrangeas
  
• Mother and son singing duo
• Lotsa Jesus talk
• UFO story from Uncle Harvey
• Aunt Bonnie's gorgeous drawl
• "Are you married?"
• "You look like Cinderella!"
• Taking the twelver of Blue Moon
• More house dress lounging
• Crashing on couch (Oh, couch, how I miss you.)
• Taqueria los Hermanos in the AM (Does it replace Nuevo Laredo?)
• Requisite trip to Gwinnett Place Mall
• Um, wait, I don't think we're flying Delta and I don't think we depart at 6:45, KM
• Utter exhaustion (I've officially hit the wall.)
• Trip through the airport in search of Moe's
• Contemplating taking the $350 voucher
• Finally falling asleep on a plane
• More "Watchmen" reading
• "Wish You Were Here"
• Philip Glass' "Metamorphosis"
• "If you weren't you, we wouldn't want to hang out with you in the first place."
• Waiting for luggage
• Did Josh use my apartment for NY vacation? (Nope. His loss.)
  
• Spotting the orange BMW (Major thanks again, Dave.)
• Cops!
• The train
• More "Watchmen" reading
• Putting the key in the lock
• Not wanting to have stayed; not wanting to have left
  

s-s-s-safe before sexy

Day three (Friday, July 6, 2007)

• Drunken walk through Athens in the AM
• Terrible bagel and coffee from Hot Corner (Am I just spoiled?)
• Loitering in front of the Athens Banner-Herald office
• Gettin' my hair did (Thanks, Amber Bear.)
• Golden Bowl at the Grit
• PB&J ice cream in the ATL (Calories don't count while on vacation.)
• Dropping too much cash at Target
• Six Feet Under with KB and Amber Bear (Fish taco trio! Hush puppies! Fried green tomatoes!)
• Lazy eye pictures (Pictures to follow.)
• Cabbin' it in a new city
• The Local
• Roses from Gus
• Hugs between Will & AB
• Falling asleep at the booth
• House dress
• Miller Chill on the deck
• Chex Mix (It's no NY Party Mix.)
• Loud talking (Sorry, Eva.)
• Crashing on the carpeted floor (More comfortable than one would think.)
• Crawling onto the couch in the middle of the night (Oh, couch, how I miss you.)

"you are, like, 10 times crazier than amber"

Day two (Thursday, July 5, 2007):

• Discussing not going down the river
• Deciding to go down the river
• Cherry-print white cotton underwear
• No tan lines!
• Losing the denim shorts in the rapids (Sorry, Amber Bear.)
• Rocks! Sandbar! (Okay, this is not fucking fun anymore!)
• Paddling six miles in a "Deliverance"/"Race For Your Life, Charlie Brown" moment
• Thelma's Lemonade
• Boiled peanuts from the gas station
• Receiving text from The Ex
• Chinese of Athens (Sorry, KM.)
• French fries in the curry
• The Manhattan
• Jess in front of Repent (Wow! Homeowner? I care little.)
• Black Sparks vs. Orange Sparks
• Small talk with The Ex (Why I care, I haven't a clue.)
• Max Canada (The ER? Room 13?)
• Free drinks galore
• Late night (unnecessary) shots of well Maker's Mark whiskey
• Tequila from the bottle (Not for me, thanks; I'm allergic.)
• Ending the night with MTV Jams

lunch parties

Day one (Wednesday, July 4, 2007):

• Awaking at 3:30 AM (Thank you, KM.)
• Car to airport at 6:00 AM
• Hugs from KM
• Talking her blessed ear off for two solid hours
• Asking for Bloody Marys at 6:45 AM
• Being rejected by the bartender
• Perfect flight
• Finally being served a Bloody at 8:15 AM
• Reading "Watchmen" on the plane and not being afraid of the bumpy ride
• Perfect MARTA trip to Inman Park
• Hugs from Sarah
• Vegan pizza
• Trip to Athens
• Trip to Kroger (Oh, how I miss large supermarkets.)
• Beers on KB's porch while he pumped iron
• Hugs from KB
• Hugs from Amber Bear
• Hugs from everyone else
• More pigs in a blanket (This time with spicy maple BBQ sauce.)
• KM and I binging on the grape tart
• Many beers
• Many small talk conversations
• Many unwanted trips down memory lane
• Serious sleep deprivation (It's starting to sink in now.)
• Texts to The Ex
• Discussing our first Kindercore single (Think Young Jeezy featuring Lil' Jon meets the Lemonheads.)
• Sugar-free Red Bulls (Two, thank you.)
• No fireworks
• No drama
• Reading "Watchmen" again at 12:30 AM
• Asleep by 12:31

mcgill

Alex: you know how I feel about blogging, right?

Me: no, but i'm sure i could guess -- but tell me

Alex: blogging is like a new fuck buddy; at first blush it feels like there is a connection, but after a while you come to the realization that you are just masturbating with an audience

Me: i'm going to go ahead and blog this conversation right now! thx!

looking up

Before meeting up with Josh, Paul, and Garett on Friday night and having a raucously good bar-hopping time, I actually had a date.

I went out with this guy a few months ago. Nice guy but, um, he didn't really make me laugh. He tried really hard. All in all, kinda boring. He was also freakishly tall. We awkwardly hugged at the end of our second date (mostly because he's a full person-size taller than me) and I thought that was that.

No.

Fast-forward a few months and he writes me:

"[N]one of the recent conversations I've had with women have matched the one I had with you back in March."

Okay, so I'm a sucker for flattery.

So, I go out with the guy, making sure that he understands that I'm not really looking for anything except maybe an excuse to grab a pitcher of beer and some popcorn shrimp at Trout.

The entire date lasts about an hour an a half. It's boring. I'm anxious to hang out with the boys. I end things by saying that my BFF is having major boyfriend issues and I need to go run interception. We end by (again) awkwardly hugging and without thinking, I blurt out, "Well, keep in touch!"

This, to me, sounds cold and I think he's got the hint.

"Really?!" he says, his eyes widening in excitement.

He didn't get the hint.

I got an email in my inbox yesterday and he's definitely wanting to keep in touch.

What to do?

(I'm really not as icy in real life as I sound in this entry. Promise.)

viva las vegas!

Best part of my roommate being outta town for two weeks?

Watching "Big Love" while lounging on the living room floor, drinking a big glass of wine, in my bikini.

Yeah, I said it.

makes me feel fine

Fancy olives and real cutlery! No plastic forks at this soiree. No sir.


Only the best wine for my friends: Two Buck Chuck. (Note: Costs more than two bucks in Manhattan City!)


Pigs in a blanket. (Note: Not really made from pigs!)


KM bringing it back to 2002 with some flautas.


Paul's seriously Italian contribution.


The day after...


This just about sums it up.


A couple more photos here.

entertaining

Scattered around my apartment are empty bottles of Olde English and pinot grigio and it smells like watermelon and mussels and stale beer and it's sticky and gross and greasy and I just feel like procrastinating until someone comes over and helps me clean.

If you couldn't make the So Icy / Stuffed Potluck 2007, here's what you missed out on, kids:

• A gigantic cooler of Summer Breeze, a tasty beverage consisting of vodka, lemonade, Red Bull, and 18 cans of Coors Light, all mixed by Josh in my bathroom
• KM's flautas, a few of which I ate cold this morning for breakfast
• Paul's highly impressive antipasti spread (on a bed of leafy greens, even!) and sincere effort on the mussels, though they died en route
• My bro's stuffed pizza, using jacked ingredients from the others' contributions
• Vedette & Karl's goooooorgeous stuffed Roma tomatoes
• Porkchop & Colleen's contribution of local favorite Jake's BBQ with vegan sides
  
• My vegan pigs in a blanket with chipotle citrus BBQ sauce
• Salsa cheese dip stuffed inside a bread bowl
• Green olives stuffed with garlic
  
• Mike's watermelon face
  
• Many bottles of wine
• Many beers
• Many glasses of Summer Breeze
• Listening to "Summer Breeze" by Seals & Crofts
• Listening to "Can You Feel It" by the Jackson 5
• Late night trip to Commonwealth with my bro, Monique, Mike, Paul, Josh, and Garett
• Late late night run to the bodega for gum and more drinks for the boys
• Late late late night viewing of "Flight of the Conchords" 'til we all just had to hit the sack

Oh, and you also missed out on us watching the following roughly seventy-five times in a row:


All in all, a success!

(Still, this place is a disgusting mess. Come help me get it back to its natural state of beauty?)