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?)

a lifetime of defeats

Go visit J.Ro's blog.

Please and thank you.

venido a la playa

GYC, even in the rain, is a good time.

Met Justin-the-bartender, had two pitchers with Josh and KM, watched Josh eat a hamburger and a hot dog, snacked on cashews, enjoyed a Presidente gratis, discussed crafting the perfect text message, eyed the boy-with-the-beard, chatted it up usual-style with my man, Alan, and am home by 12:21 AM -- just in time for another episode of "The Wire" on DVD before I crash and hit up Trout tomorrow night.

Oh, yeah, and I have work tomorrow, too.

overtime

I actually did some work today.

For, like, 45 minutes.

alma

So, when Soterios Johnson says that it's gonna rain and you have plans to eat ceviche and drink wine a full fifteen minute walk from any train, bring an umbrella.

Getting caught in a flash flood with lightning strikes all around you isn't as poignantly cinematic as one would think.

wild pegasus

Satan's Cheerleaders came in second-to-last place last night, kids. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

(And, uh, hey, Paul: don't go thinking that this means that you're getting out of coming in two weeks. The team is a mere shell of what it once was and we need your trivial knowledge and Operation Tri-Force strategizing capabilities. I think Josh and KM will be back on the 10th, too.)

(Oh, and paying for drinks at weddings is chintzy. Period.)

the creeping crud

Lest I be fined $1000 or thrown in jail or something equally traumatizing, I had to make an emergency trip into the city today to 60 Centre Street and prove to the City of New York that I am now a resident of the Borough of Brooklyn.

(I have to admit, it was a little amusing walking up those steps that I've seen Benson & Stabler ascend on many occasions.)

Somehow my iPod cracked up and showed only Chinese characters when I awoke this morning. I fixed it but it worried me for a second. Can I just blame Mercury?

I did laundry last night. Ate some lentils. Watched "The Wire".

Things seem kinda boring, to tell you the truth. Perhaps it's just the slow work week juxtaposed with the busy weekends I've been enjoying as of late.

Tonight brings trivia but, sadly, more than half the team has dropped off. A good number of people aren't able to attend the potluck and I'm (sigh) close to cancelling the whole thing.

Cranky moods are so unattractive, I know.

so icy

i think that it's working

This is the truth, folks: I've spent roughly three hours in my apartment since heading to work on Friday morning. I'm ready for a long shower and some food and some "60 Minutes" and some much-needed sleep.

After quickly posting the (bulleted!) highlights of my weekend yesterday, I triple-trained it to Clinton Hill with beer in tow and met up with Josh on the G. (Yes, running into friends on the train is always fun, but especially when you're headed in the same direction and are worried about getting lost on the walk from station to apartment.) Anyhow, yeah, picture this: Josh, Paul, and I sitting around on folding chairs and milk crates and drinking beer and wine and whiskey and talking shit.

It was merely a light version of bro'ing down, to use that corny phrase that Paul just hates.

Paul had to make it to a wedding in the wee hours of the next morning. Josh would be working a little. After all the fun had been had, Josh split, "Arrested Development" was watched, I crashed, Paul dipped out, I woke up at 9:00 AM, took the train to Port Authority, met my mom, brunched at Craftbar, shopped at H&M, watched the Gay Pride parade, drank Vitamin Water XXX in Union Square Park, and ta da! Here I am.

Everything's cool cool -- but um, was this a crazy weekend or what?

And to KM: <3

let's whip it baby

Just a taste of what I've experienced this weekend thus far:

• Another oyster shot (!) (no chorizo this time, howevs)
• Tits galore at the Mermaid Parade
• Witnessing a "Jerry Springer"-esque hair-pulling fight in front of Shoot the Freak
• Chili cheese fries
• Pitchers of beer
• QT with Josh, Tom, Porkchop, and Colleen at GYC
• QT with the above and KM, Dave, Megan, and Mary at Trout
• KM's brunch of pineapple pancakes and soysage grits
• Standing on the train all the way to and home from Coney Island
• Falling asleep on the beach
• Witnessing a racially-motivated near beat-down on F train
• PB&Js on the boardwalk -- two for $5!

More soon, I'm sure. Must hit the shower.

celebration

It's Kennie Bloggins' birthday, yo!

Haps on that shit!

the arrow of apollo

Little-known fact about me: I start planning my Halloween costume sometime in July. Now, rarely (if ever) have I actually followed through with any plan whose genesis lay in the summertime, but alas, I've begun thinking...

I know at least ONE person who will be going all out as one of these fellas. Spray tan, waxed eyebrows, highlights, the whole bit.

My thought was to be Capt. Kara Thrace ("Starbuck") from "Battlestar Galactica" or, perhaps, Alex from "A Clockwork Orange". I've been kicking around the latter idea for years now. Maybe it's time to just admit I'm a frat boy and do it.

Bonus: when I am ready to embrace full geekiness, I can use either costume at Comic-Con and score me a super nerd...

(Jokes, jokes.)

temptation rings in my ears

Thanks to Mezzy Eclipse for linking me on their sidebar and for giving me a shout out in a proper entry.

I was also introduced to Ryan Lewis' blog today and saw that creepy-ass picture of the Heath Ledger's Joker from The Dark Knight. Yes, creepy-ass. Reminds me of checking it out weeks ago on Paul's BlackBerry at GYC. He liked it. I was like, eh, not slick enough.

Was that the night that three pitchers turned into nine? Was that the night of coffee brandy? Or Op Ivy? My head hurts when I think about it.

jamon jamon

I think I shall begin to only blog copy-and-pasted GChats and/or entries about syrupy pop music, because do they ever instigate some commenting!

You know, relatively speaking.

(But, because I have no thoughts on popular tunes right now and I've already posted a GChat for the day, you're just gonna have to listen to me ramble on about my upcoming weekend. Y'ready?)

Tomorrow I will go back to Trout. Or GYC. Something. I'm in the process of getting a crew together and will eat some eats and drink some drinks and enjoy the Second Day O' Summer in a way one can only truly appreciate it: at an outdoor bar! Those of you who unfortunately cannot make it because of previous plans will have to come with me some other time, please and thank you. Y'all know who you are and you will be missed.

Saturday may bring the Mermaid Parade. (Also known as Tits Galore!) Last year it was sprinkling but I still shot some decent stuff -- hopefully this year, the sun will be out and the pictures will be that much better. Saturday night brings my brother's show in (big sigh now) Williamsburg. Hopefully Theresa will be up for it.

Sunday? Sunday I get to milk my mama for some summertime apparel and we'll brunch at Craftbar where I may just say fuck-it-all and eat some chorizo!

(With my apologies to KM -- look what your roommate and Paul started! Yes, of course I blame them.)

It's raining now.

(Also, to AC: Again, I'm sorry.)

tales of future love (the plague)

J: This morning, I saw a pigeon laying dead on its back in the street. Looked completely fine and maybe just taking an awkward nap, but he was obviously dead. Nothing visible wrong with him.

I'm afraid the end times are near.

Like in the Stand.

Me: Oh God, just my luck!

J: So, basically, don't sweat anything.

Me: In that case, I am off my diet.

everything begins and ends at the exactly right time and place

Battling insomnia? Try a viewing of "Picnic at Hanging Rock" on for size. Even the credits are slow.

I awoke halfway through the movie last night and realized that it was merely 9:30 PM. This, of course, led me to popping two Tylenol PM at 12:30 AM just to get some sleep. This, of course, led me to nodding off like Charlie-Pace-circa-Season-One on the train while simultaneously listening to bad (read: amazing) Foreginer songs on the ol' iPod. This, of course, will allow me to rationalize how I should skip the gym tonight, but no, I shouldn't. Skipped my favorite class last week while on an impromptu field trip to Staten Island and haven't resurfaced in the interim. I think that has something to do with going out all the damn time now.

And so tomorrow begins the Summer of Chillax. As a friend told me earlier, "You can go ahead and have fun, but it's not the Summer of 'Fuck It'." Um, you are right, sir!

Oh, also: Bloomberg officially relinquishes title of fake Republican.

woke up this morning so i'm still alive

Though I had told a number of people yesterday that my intention was to go home straight from work, pull the covers over my eyes, and hibernate (oh, and maybe read some "Watchmen"), I was seriously stir-crazy even before I reached my apartment. Maybe going out five or six out of the last seven nights will do that to a person.

I texted a few individuals, all of whom were smartly going to stay in -- save my dependable girl, KM. The plan was for me to have a beer at GYC and she'd meet me there, but the bar was predictably packed. Instead, we met on Union, walked to the Promenade, and caught up while sitting on a bench overlooking the Manhattan skyline.

Living in Brooklyn has its perks and that's one of them: when you feel like you just want to unload some stuff you've been kicking around in your head to one of your best friends, she's only a few stops away, and you have the absolutely best view in the world.

(KM: It was "closure is a luxury" and your roommate said it.)

i have a playlist on my ipod

(Shout out to Scarny.)

Today's 2.3074 mile-long walk to work (in our balmy weather) was enhanced by the following tunes:

At the Drive-In : One-Armed Scissor
E.S.G. : Erase You
Porno For Pyros : Tahitian Moon
Danzig : Mother
Kool & the Gang : Misled
Bad Company : Feel Like Makin' Love
TV On the Radio : Wolf Like Me
Stevie Nicks : Stand Back
Peter Murphy : Cuts You Up

I just love following up Danzig with Kool & the Gang! Love it!

I listen to "Cuts You Up" at least four times a day. I'm weaning myself off my "This is Radio Clash" addiction. I have also rediscovered how good that Maroon 5 song, "This Love" is and DON'T YOU GIVE ME ANY SHIT ABOUT IT!

I also love a bit of kinder-and-gentler Fugazi on occasion.

and if you wanna find hell with me

Okay, okay, so I can't stay away. It's like a sickness.

The debauchery in Brooklyn is beginning to mimic that of the Athens variety.

Friday night was spent on a bar stool in the Slope with some good lookin' guy. Ended with a wrestling match and a visit to MySpace to check out all his fine Italian cousins.

Saturday morning brought Mexican Brunch #1. Bought "Watchmen", my first graphic novel purchase ever. Took the local train to the Beer Garden in Astoria where we attended the world's largest outdoor frat party. Drank coffee at an authentic Greek diner. (Wanna know how I know it was authentic? It was in Astoria!) Returned to the scene of the-crime-that-was-my-30th-birthday-party, met up with Josh and Frances, and downed two Red Bull & Vodkas (lest I fall asleep standing up). We all took turns being in need of a second wind that evening. Ended up somewhere else in that 'hood. (It's hazy. Mona's?) Ate chocolate. We cabbed it home.

Sunday morning brought Mexican Brunch #2 and while I had anticipated some quality solo time, I was easily lured out by Josh promising good times. (Hard to resist, they are.) Hit up Trout and promptly forgot that tequila gives me hives: two margaritas later, and folks, lemme tell you, was I the picture of perfection! (Note: I'm being sarcastic!) Swallowed a raw oyster floating on the top of a Bloody Mary shot. Ended the evening sharing a big bowl o' clams and chorizo and watching the Yanks beat play the Mets. (I'm keeping my language neutral.)

I also did a lot of other really cool shit, but you ain't gonna hear about that. Maybe some other time.

(Note to self: learn to walk faster.)

yeah, it's a sign all right

Shutting things down Going into retirement for a while like, a week or so.

on pirate satellite

Briefly chatted with J (yes, that J) for the first time in months today. He told me that he was sitting right next to my friend, Theresa, and I pleaded with him not to tell her that we were speaking, lest she cancel our dinner plans tonight. (I kid; I will probably tell her about our chat during our first glass of wine.)

Yes, he is still with the girl.

Our road trip was already seven or eight months ago. Time flies when you're not speaking.

I wish him well.

Tonight brings dinner with Theresa, obviously. I'll be traveling into Manhattan City for wood-fired pizza, because apparently she and I can never eat anywhere except this same ol' place 'cause, um, it's yummy. The wine is cheap. It's close to the train. It's our place.

Theresa unfortunately won't be attending my potluck on the 30th, but I already have confirmations from KM, Scarny, Josh, my brother, and Paul. (I think? Unless he decides to skip town.) My co-workers are iffy. My brother will probably bring Monique and KM may bring Nicky and another new friend. Porkchop and Colleen are supposedly in-it-to-win-it, but I recently learned they'll be moving the next day into an apartment on KM & Josh's block.

Block parties all the time! I like the idea.

Tell me what I should make for this soiree, please. I'm leaning toward a pumpernickel bread bowl of some kind, stuffed with a spicy cheese spread? Or perhaps an artichoke and spinach dip? Potato and green olive salad? I may make an impressive savory tart a la Caddy. I may make a praline cheesecake. I may make the old stand-by couscous salad. I may make gooey butter cookies and a three-layered vegan chocolate Black Forest cake and a rosemary and feta lasagna.

I could go all Southern on everyone's ass and make pimento cheese finger sandwiches and Krispy Kreme bread pudding.

Josh promises lobsters stuffed with tacos.

"Suedehead" plays now. It was enough to bring that ex-boyfriend to tears, I remember. So many years ago.

I listened to "This is Radio Clash" on the train this morning and it took all I had in me to keep from dancing with a stupid grin on my face.

a change of scenery

Our little rag-tag team, Satan's Cheerleaders, finally made good and came in second place at trivia last night. (LaGuardia, Canseco, LCD Soundsystem, Frank Sinatra.) We scored a total of $28, which we promptly used to purchase the Champagne of Beers and just kept on celebrating.

Soon, the others trickled off and he and I stayed to chat about this and that. I was giggly and he was flattering. Went to Bar 4 for a few more and before we knew it, it was way past any reasonable bedtime hour. The decision had been made to play hooky.

We awoke with the best intention to head to Philly for a baseball game. En route, the realization was made that we were collectively broke-ass broke and thus, we instead stopped on Staten Island for big hippie burritos and a tour through the Mafia 'hoods. Entertained the idea of a Cyclones game, but alas, the season doesn't start for another six days. I will take a rain check, thanks.

(Didn't you say something last night about a party in Maine where I'd be the oldest attendee by an average of a decade? Is one of us supposed to be Harold in this situation and the other, Maude? The age thing isn't an issue. Issues are as pointless as the clue "thing" on "Wheel of Fortune". You never make me feel old when I'm with you; in fact, Time Out New York says you've got 12 years on me, Gramps. It's a race to sabotage. Who will get there first? Just hurry up and move to San Francisco, already.)

Returned to Brooklyn. Entertained the IT guys in the next building, was schooled in the ways of the comic books, and then fell fast asleep...

...and now I type and the Blackberry buzzes incessantly and though he doesn't snore, he will ask if he did and I will say "No, really, you don't snore. Do you want Thai food?"

i'm all out of bubblegum

I'm not gonna get all lame and shit and admit that I like this dude and that I had a really awesome time drinking beers and cooking dinner and watching the television and holding hands with him, okay? I'm totally not going to admit it. If you want mush, keep on moving.

The food was awesome: spicy sauce from scratch (with soy meatballs and lotsa garlic), whole wheat pasta, broccoli rabe with lotsa garlic, big loaf o' bread with lotsa garlic and cheese. (He estimated that eight to ten garlic cloves are now in our bellies.) Dessert was biscotti-stuffed baked peaches with marscapone. Some wine was consumed. It got hot in the kitchen. He did all the dishes. "Flight of the Conchords" is funnier than I thought it would be. "They Live" wasn't scary in the least. Noriega had an 11-year old pen pal. Bensonhurst is full of wiseguys.

I like Sundays like this.

(PS: "The Sopranos". Ending. Black screen. Tell me what you think happened, please.)

it was a "jump to conclusions" mat

Um, in a totes "Office Space" moment, I just got a promotion.

Didn't I mention, merely yesterday, that I don't do shit at work? The higher-ups have recognized that I'm not challenged enough and have decided to bump me two rungs up the ladder. The deets haven't been hammered out yet but I'm thinking this may bring some more money. I wouldn't turn it away, of course.

I actually brought in 25 Munchkins to work today to share with co-workers. That's some pedestrian corporate brown-nosing if I've ever heard of it -- and I work for a non-profit!

In other news, Girls' Night Out is tonight, and, oh yeah, I blogged about this shit yesterday...

I'm slipping.

I'm attempting to rally some folks for GYC'ing on Saturday and so if you live in the NYC area, show up. How can you pass up pitchers under the Christmas lights with yours truly? (Of course, I think only three people who read this thing are actually in NYC and one of them has a date.)

Sunday afternoon will consist of a (hopefully) authentic Sunday Dinner with lotsa lotsa lotsa garlic and broccoli rabe and red pepper flakes and maybe a glass of wine pour moi.

Oh, and that movie. With some dude.

...and the word of the day is palliate.

anything i want, he gives it to me

I've been on a regular late-night movie binge as of late. Have watched "Batman", "Star Wars", "Chinatown", "Cool Hand Luke", and "Lost Horizon" (the latter of which I should not have started at 9:30 PM on a school night! Took all I could muster to get through it and I think I still slept through 25% of it). I've started Season One of "The Wire" and I eagerly (I think) anticipate "They Live" with "Rowdy" Roddy Piper to show up in my mailbox on Saturday-ish.

(I also eagerly anticipate a mix CD from my buddy to appear. It better be good or the friendship is off!)

Tomorrow night bring Girls' Night Out with KM, Nicky, and Jendy and I will rock some heels and rock the hips.

"Red Hill Mining Town" by U2 is super duper good. Funny how you forget about good tunes. Morning commutes have been filled with the 1980s -- but the good stuff.

My superhero power is that I can look at any phone number and know who is calling. It's pretty amazing. Are you amazed? Admit it.

They let that ol' tramp Paris free. Celebrity justice!

I feel like baking something.

Hope KB has a good time out west on his sojourn -- and I do hope that he tries at least a bite of a Double Double, if just to be able to describe its deliciousness to me. Fingers crossed. Either way, I hope he and Crog enjoy the game at the Lodge. Y'all should try some seafood at the Hungry Cat.

By the way, did I mention that I do nothing at work? No-god damn-thing. It's true!

the pass

Me and the boys. Challenge from Moose: "Drink six pitchers and numbers seven and eight are on me." Deal made with other 'tender: "Gimme yr iPod and a pitcher's on the house." Nine pitchers. Only me and the boys.

Garett dropped out early-ish because he's responsible and had to work at noon. He knows everything about everything and will be on my trivia team whether he likes it or not. Someone, who had to be at work at the same hour, decided to tough it out 'cause he had The Pass. (I had The Pass last week. Paid about ten bucks when the bill was over $200. Somehow we ended this one with three of us throwing in a mere $50 each.) Paulie was making whispered threats about exposing my blog to the others. Josh tried to force feed me a hot dog to no avail.

Ripped my jeans on a chair. Kathleen Turner was, indeed, in "Romancing the Stone" and I lost a quarter that ended in my cup. Exploding Arzt was, indeed, named by moi. I'm gonna get liner notes credit if it kills me. (Songs: "Boarding Flight 815", something about Locke and Rock[e], "Blast Door Map".) Didn't fall down the stairs this time. Listened to Op Ivy for the first time in a decade, it seems. Was given a nickname that I promptly forgot.

Many, many beers. Never-ending cup.

Too much pressure on Josh when it was his last night in an empty apartment. I thought (turns out, incorrectly) that the train was skipping my stop. Paulie's all the way out in S.I. and God, how do you even get there at that time of night? Can we please crash at yr pad, Joshua? Nope, nope, nope. I have The Pass.

A few pitchers later and we're headed back to President Street.

No strangers on KM's bed, which leaves two boys in bed together. But, Joshua, I've slept in your bed. Yes, but KM didn't give me The Pass. I'd sleep in the bathtub, I say.

Morning: walked Polly to Coffee Den. I text Josh that everyone's gone, Polly's been walked, NYT is on table.

He responds: "Last night's episode is called 'The Pass' -- one for the bill, one for the drama."

30 minutes down memory lane

jurassic pork

Didn't do shit on Friday night.

Saturday, I hit up the grocery store, completed three loads of laundry, and ventured to the 'burg to get my hair cut. (Bangs. Layers. Not a mullet.) Then proceeded to head to cookout in Prospect Heights and ate chipotle veggie dogs and a drank Brooklyn Lager on a rooftop. Met up with Josh in the Slope and drank a cerveza while Spanish was spoken all around me. Headed to Bar 4 and did a shot with Paul. Walked home. Crashed.

Sunday, headed to the city. Binge-shopped at H&M and purchased a terry cloth Old Navy bikini (suit and towel all in one!). Trained it to Coney Island and dodged glass in the sand with Josh and Paul. Ran home, showered, changed, trained it to GYC and had a beer with the aforementioned boys until AC showed up.

Had the most amazing dessert (no, the most amazing DISH) ever at Frankies 457 Sputino: red wine prunes with marscapone. I saw stars as I ate it.

Headed back to GYC. Drank beer with boys. Went on a Sparkz run to no avail. Ended up at KM's pad (sans KM, as she's still on vacation). Drank brandy. Danced. (KM, stop reading! You will regret reading this!) Ate bacon-stuffed sausage. (Okay, KM, you may read now.) Crashed. Bolted in the morning before anyone awoke.

Recovery Monday. Finished BSG: Season Three. Talked to SM for almost three hours. Crashed.

Tonight brings trivia. We are Satan's Cheerleaders. We will not come in last place.

this just in...

KM and I will be in Georgia from July 4th through the 8th, which means...

Who's having the cookout?

Athens?

ATL?

A trip down the Broad River is also warranted.

Get ready.

through the looking glass

I know it's been a while...

More importantly, tonight is the big LOST finale!

(Whatever will I do with myself after tonight, what with this 8 month hiatus looming in front of me? I will need to get a life; I will first, however, need to finish BSG : Season Three.)

There's a bit of a get-together in our borough of Brooklyn (Scarny! I'm sorry you won't be here!), at which I will be the only lady (and you know I like it that way, though I'll miss KM, as she'll be attending an 8-course vegan dinner).

We're gonna order BBQ (I'll have veggie chili, thanks), and drink our Dharma beers...

and eat our Dharma cookie cake...

(It's a piss poor crooked-ass fuzzy picture taken at 7:00 AM with my camera phone, but you get the idea...)

and I'll be wearing my LOST/BSG hybrid t-shirt...


and we'll be pondering my cleaned-up screen cap of Jacob...


and, most fun of all, we'll be betting on the following questions that my friend and I generated:
________________________________________________

LOST : Season Three Finale
"Through the Looking Glass"
May 23, 2007
________________________________________________

$5 per person
Winner takes all, suckers!

________________________________________________

Name:

1. Five characters you think will die by the end of this episode: (two points each)

a.
b.
c.
d.
e.

2. Five events you believe will happen in this episode: (two points each)

a.
b.
c.
d.
e.

3. Who will be the leader of the Others by the end of the episode? (five points)


4. Who will be the leader of the Losties by the end of the episode? (five points)


BONUS: Who will make an appearance in the flashbacks besides the featured character? (two points per character)


SUPER DUPER BONUS: Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindelof code-name each season's top-secret finale scene: Walt's kidnapping in the Season 1 finale was known as "The Bagel," Season 2's introduction of Penny was known as "The Challah". This season's secret finale scene is known as "The Rattlesnake". What will The Rattlesnake be? (ten points)

________________________________________________

(Feel free to post your own answers.)

It's the geekiest night of the year so far and I love it!

the man behind the curtain

First of all, next week I'm going out to dinner with family and must (gasp!) miss "LOST", so please y'all, no spoilers! The following week is the Season Three two-hour finale and I'll be drinking beer and eating cookies with KM's roommate and my other male BFFs while she's eating Isa's yummy vegan cooking.

That being said, beware reading ahead if you haven't seen tonight's episode and give a shit about the show. Slippery with serious spoilers! You have been warned.

I know that tonight's show will be Ben-centric and will give us some background on the Dharma Initiative and its history on the island. Should be amazing. Should pose a thousand more questions, I'm sure.

And we're off.

So, Ben was Roger Workman's son, I'm guessing? No coincidence that his father was named Roger, the same name as the decayed corpse in the "Little Miss Sunshine"-ripoff-decayed-corpse of an episode a few weeks back, "Tricia Tanaka Is Dead". Boy, that episode sucked.

Ben's mother dies after childbirth. Who is the couple who rescues them? Could it be the DeGroots? Did they raise Ben?

Jacob is referenced! Ben is Jacob. Or Locke is Jacob. Or Danielle.

Or Vincent. Woof.

Locke calls Ben "The Man Behind the Curtain" -- yet another "Oz" reference. (I mean, "The Wizard of Oz", of course -- though Eko and Michael were both on HBO's "Oz". Oh, and Ben once made a video for the Federal Department of Corrections or something. Does that department even exist? I'll dig that one up for you, gentle reader[s].)

Y'know, Little Ben looks like my little brother, Dylan. And Harry Potter.

This Horace dude who greets Ben & Roger? He reminds me of Robin Gibb. Or Maurice Gibb. Or someone. Either way, we now know that Ben was Dharma, his father was Roger Linus, and he was a "work man". And we know he's gonna die in a (probable) drunken bus crash on the island.

Annie becomes Ben's wife, I think. Right now she's eating a Hurley-favorite Apollo bar. Speaking of Apollo, he's a super-hot character on "Battlestar". Speaking of "Battlestar", I'm halfway through Season Two and though the last couple of episodes have been kinda sub-par, it's still seriously, seriously good... and still seriously recommended to you.

Okay, back to the show at hand: why does Jacob instill fear in and/or elicit awe from the Others? Jacob isn't real! Or Jacob is Ben. Or Vincent. Woof.

Man, Locke is seriously angry! He's ready to take out Patchy one way or the other, yeah? Interesting that nobody is coming to Patchy's rescue. I think the Others are seriously tired of Ben and his charade.

Alex is giving Locke a gun for his trip to see Jacob. What is going on? Does she want him to kill Ben? Why give him the gun in front of Ben?

Wow, my teacher never had a loaded shotgun in the room. They do things differently on this island, yeah?

Ben's dad was being paid by Dharma? $30,000? His mom was outside his window? I'm getting confused.

Oh, God, here's Kate. Tattle tale. She's so on my last nerve. And she's so pregnant, I betcha.

Wait, is Jacob a volcano? Or that big "Simpson"-like foot statue?

It's Ben's birthday and his future wife gives him dolls. Though they're big dolls, this reminds me a little of "To Kill a Mockingbird". Jem and Scout. The tree. Boo Radley. Okay, maybe not.

Roger says: "Kinda hard to celebrate on the day you killed your Mom." Jesus, Workman, you're a dick. Ben runs to the woods, sees his dead mother. Psychotic break? Or island majik? Take us to Jacob!

Ash. Volcanic ash?

Back on the beach: "Turn the tape over and press play..."

Ben is comin' for the ladies. We knew this. This is what Jack and Juliet wanted to tell Kate? Just tell us that she's pregnant so that I can be right about something! Yes, Jack, start talking.

Harry Potter is going through the fence to find his mama. He sees... holy shit. Richard? Is that Richard? He's the same age as he is now? Okay, MIND FUCK. What is going on?! So, Richard is a native. He doesn't age. Is this why Hurley isn't getting skinnier? Is time standing still? How did Ben age, then? Okay, MIND FUCK.

They're at Jacob's residence and wait! I'm guessing Jacob is Richard! Please, writers, tell us something. Give us some crumbs!

"Are you sure this is what you want?" YES! Jesus. Give us answers.

There is nobody there.

Ben is ca-razy. Ben is psychotic. All of a sudden, we're watching "Psycho" and Ben is a regular Norman Bates.

Oh, God. Wait.

"Help me."

Oh, fuck. What is happening?! Holy shit. I need to look at screen caps of that shit tomorrow. "That was Jacob." We still have 14 minutes..!

Now, Ben is in the bus with Daddy and the crash is imminent, I'm sure. Did he cause the crash? Does Ben feel guilty for the deaths of both his parents? Or wait, will he kill his father? Everyone's got Daddy issues on this damn island.

Gas mask. There he goes. Little bug-eyes killed his father! I didn't think Ben had it in him. I thought he had others do the dirty work for him.

OH MY GOD.

He killed everyone.

Are you serious? He killed all of Dharma. This was The Purge? This is giving me the fucking creeps. This is so fucking Jonestown.

Oh, who are the others with gas masks on? The natives? The Others. Richard.

Oh no.

Oh no.

Ben shot Locke. Ben shot Locke. No, Locke can't die. There's no way.

There's no way.

order the biggest dinner you can

As I get older and my patience wears thin, I think I'm warming up to the idea of splitting the bill evenly when going out for big group dinners.

I can remember a time when it took at least 15 minutes to secure all the money from everyone at the table when fellow diners would pay for only what they ordered. I understand not wanting to throw in a lot of money when you've ordered a side of fries, but for a big birthday bash?

Hmmm.

I think it makes things easier to just split the bill evenly, gripe to someone who wasn't there, and then choose a fancy place when it's your special day.

(Even easier would be hosting a dinner at home and then going out for drinks, which may be how I celebrate my next nine birthdays.)

There's an article here about the practice, which also references this piece in the Times.

What do you think?

ladies only

I can't believe that I missed this open casting call for "The Wire".

Y'all know that I own a "so very sexy you will make a gay man want you" outfit, right?

put it in you

Picture this: KM and JBD on a rooftop-with-Chrysler-Building-view, with six others (including male BFFs Josh and Porkchop), engaging in a doo-wop version of "Give it Away" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers -- complete with a push-up interlude.

All of this after many, many beers at 2:00 AM.

All of this after a busted pinata provided the party with Hershey's Kisses, condoms, and joints.

All of this after I just about fell off the roof, immediately following telling Porkchop that I was "totally not drunk!"

All of this after some papaya salad in Greenpoint.

All of this after a cookout in Prospect Park, where we drank Tecate, ate Newman's ginger molasses cookies, and I was accused of having no original "Lost" theories (which is true).

Wow.

Good, good, good times at the Cinco de Mayo loft party.

This morning, we hit up a screening for the Tribeca Film Festival.



The minister was present and turned the post-screening Q&A into an uncomfortable (well, for us, anyway) quest to save our souls. Many of the kids to whom he preaches were in the audience and at one point, they started clapping rhythmically and in unison.

It was creepy.

We left soon thereafter, lest we be brainwashed by someone I saw as a fraud.

(I've never seen more crocodile tears in my life.)

forbidden fruit, hidden eyes

T-minus two hours 'til the weekend.

Tonight brings rooftop happy hour near Union Square (and maybe a quick trip to the two-story Forever 21 for sundress-shoppin' beforehand), and hopefully a meetup with Scarny and our out-of-town guest, Iceberg.

I'm hoping it will also bring a pre-Drinko de Mayo dinner, 'cause you know there ain't no way we're gonna find a seat at a restaurant to be able to eat enchiladas tomorrow night.

Tomorrow brings a possible trip to Prospect Park for pinata-bashin' and then a loft party in Greenpoint with the new male BFFs.

Sunday, KM and I are going to a Tribeca Film Festival movie and then heading to Paris Sandwiches for bahn mi.

Also, I'm in the throws of putting feelers out there to organize a bake sale for Share Our Strength. Not sure if it's gonna get off the ground, but I have three people who are interested in contributing, two maybes, and one person who will "write a check".

I <3 springtime.

the brig

I chose not to live-blog the episode last night, primarily because I was so tired that I could barely keep my eyes open, but I'm actually glad I had my full attention on the screen.

Jesus, it was probably my favorite episode of "Lost" ever. If you've been watching from the beginning, I think you'd have to agree with me.

Sawyer kills Cooper-Sawyer. Locke pines for the acceptance of the Others. Juliet and Jack are keeping a secret from Kate. No off-island flashbacks. Sawyer's rage. Ben is walking. Rousseau reappears. Sayid as human lie-detector. The Black Rock. The wreckage in the ocean. Cindy & the kids. The "Hell" theory.

The whole thing just blew me away. (Even though I knew that Cooper was the real Sawyer, so there was no big reveal for me there.)

Thoughts? KM? Scarny? LauraH? Coke Bref?

potent potables

Kate Moss and I (along with her co-worker and possibly a handful of our male BFFs, sans Scarny) are going to try to supplement our income at a local trivia night this evening. Fingers crossed they only ask questions about current sci-fi television shows, culinary anthropology, and/or early-1990s rock 'n roll.

Back in 2001 and 2002, Amber Bear, J. Ro, the Ex, and I used to frequent Taco Stand's rock 'n roll trivia night -- and we really racked up a nice bar tab, thanks to our collective genius. I think we ate and drank for free for quite some time.

Back in 2000, I made $75 a week for about a month at a trivia night hosted at an authentic line dancing bar (whose name now escapes me) in Round Rock, Texas.

Let's hope I can continue this streak...!