dream come true

Last night, with my kitchen table moved directly in front of my TV, I ate crabs in my underwear and watched a show on vintage tear drop trailers.

Twinkies @ Target

this post that is probably too long for you to actually read

Thursday was Baltimore Brian’s birthday. We played board games and drank beer and ate a surprisingly delicious chocolate volcano cake at midnight. We also chased around Brian’s new wind-up bird.

Staying up late and having an adventurous birthday party and…my favorite…birthday cake made me anxious to have another one on Friday. I wasn’t very good at paying attention at work the next day; I was thinking too much about going to Philadelphia Brian’s potluck birthday extravaganza. Two birthdays & two Brians. This was already an amazing weekend, and it hadn’t even started yet.

Friday after work, I darted home to get my feta-spinach-mushroom-tomato quiche, Sparks energy/malt liquor beverages and any other necessary hyphenated items for my trip to Philadelphia. I peeled out of my parking spot and Russell and Michael ran up to the car, tossing their duffle bag in the sunroof and climbing through the open back windows dukes of hazard style. Yee haw. There was a cloud of dust.

On the way there, Michael told us all about which mega-movie grossed the most money of the summer and Russell told us both about the DC Comics new “52” timeline. Yes, we totally geeked out. When we arrived at the party we were a little concerned with all the healthy food we saw – Where were the neon orange cheese puffs? How will we get our nutrition? Where was the potato chip food group? But, to our surprise, everything was delicious, especially the pie. It ends up, that birthday pie is just as delicious as birthday cake.

I was glad Russell and Michael got to meet Roxy and Mouse. We all stood around together, surprisingly sober, sticking pennies to our foreheads while they each gave me advice about my love life. But soon we realized that our detective skills were needed. Brian hadn’t been seen for hours. We didn’t expect foul play – but his shoes were still on the roof of the house and we couldn’t find him anywhere inside – not even in the bathtub. Roxy and Mouse, Jeanne and the three of us from Baltimore went on a hunt throughout West Philadelphia to find the birthday boy --- hopelessly carring his moccasins and futilely calling his name. Ah, things like this might happen to you on your birthday if everyone lets you get really drunk and forgets to notice that you left the party to go sleep on some strange picnic table.

Cosmic the cat slept beside me that night. That sound adorable, but I didn’t want him to, really – I prefer pet-less sleeping. Cosmic, however, gets what he wants. He is a little mean and you don’t want to mess with him. If Cosmic wants to cuddle – you best cuddle – and like it.

Saturday morning I woke up at 8 and went to the grocery store near Spruce to find the ingredients for Rice Krispie Treats, shaving cream and toothpaste. They had toothpaste at Jeanne’s house – but it’s hippy toothpaste, and I think that Russell and I both prefer candy toothpaste and are ashamed to admit it. I made Rice Krispie treats and let them cool in the fridge piled high with last nights goodies. I also ate a little piece of quiche for breakfast – I think now’s a good time to point out that this was really good – I mean, even startlingly good, even cold and for breakfast.

Russell and Michael went to the thrifts store, because they realized that they only packed booty shorts and gold lamae shirts -- they were worried this wouldn’t be appropriate for my brother’s picnic. After they got back, and successfully dressed in their thrifty findings, the five of us went to the Italian Market. Okay, You’re right, that was a lie, Russell and I stayed in the CVS parking lot eating snacks and chatting, while the rest of them went – we were really more committed to snacks than Ginger Iced Tea.

So where are we? Saturday? Oh yeah, we went to my brother’s picnic. Pat, Jaime’s brother offers us a beer upon arrival and Russell loudly announces “I brought a bong” meaning a beer bong – but either way it was totally a strange thing to announce. He blushed so red and laughed that hard and sort of silent, painful laughter where it hurts your sides. All day, he kept asking “why did I say that?” and subsequently peel into bouts of laughter again.

1. We played waffle ball in the backyard. Michael got two homeruns. I’m pretty sure one was even a grand slam. 2. I made jokes all day about how Russell and Michael were both my boyfriend. 3.My cousin, Dave tied my hair to my cousin Colleen’s hair and made us into some sort of pony tail conjoined twin cousins. Why did we let him do this? This guy is amazingly persuasive. 4. We brought home pounds and pounds of leftovers.

Saturday night we arrived home and I watched bits of Shall We Dance with Fred and Ginger. I really like Fred Astaire – with his pants all pulled up to his chin – and regular shoes that are actually secret tap shoes. He’s like a dance spy, a clever little dance spy.

Sunday I saw Grizzly Man – which was absolutely insane. There is this guy, with absolutely no scientific accreditations who claims to be “protecting” the great grizzlies of Alaska from human predators. But meanwhile, he is the only human that these bears see and he tries to pet them. He shout at them, like they are misbehaved dogs, if they chase him and then say “I love you,I love you, your beautiful, you know your pretty.” The next day, he’ll try to pet them, or go swimming with them. I mean, geez – they’re grizzly bears! Yeah, you might have heard, that he got eaten, he and his girlfriend, and this documentary is made posthumously with some of his footage. I was so confused with how the director, Herzog, could look at this obviously insane guy as though he was himself, in some way, art.

This post is probably too long for you to actually read - I should have thought about that in advance.

"I'll always be your sugar"

Yesterday I got a chance to tour DOMINO sugar. Built in 1922, the refinery on the harbor has brought in pure sugar cane from nearly 50 countries and washed, dried, heated, cooled and packaged nearly 400,000 tons of sugar a year.


This mound of raw, relatively impure sugar was taller than most buildings. It smelled delicious. In this huge room full of sugar mountains I really wanted to go skiing.

Oh, why was I on the tour? I was on a corporate tour. I was the only one there to represent our little non-profit so we could show our support of Maryland Business. I ended up rubbing elbows with executives of M&T Bank and somehow hearing about their childhood and telling them Goucher history. Bankers love history.

In our business suits, we had to wear a hairnet, earplugs, a hard hat and goggles. Maybe we bonded because we looked like idiots. I was glad we had something though. It was a little scary to be on a corporate adventure like this all on my own. Luckily I was good at making dorky jokes and taking photos of myself in front of them.


This is what one of the machines looked like that filled the 5lb bags.

I know, I know, it's going too fast to even see -- don't stick your finger in there.

Domino owns the largest neon sign on the east coast.

And what's the most important thing is that you love that sign. Sometimes you see it and sigh because you think how pretty it is when it reflects orange onto the water and you say to yourself "God, I love Baltimore."

Ahhh...


In the end, I learned all about how sugar is processed AND I got a fancy keychain.

This is amazing. My new job totally rules.

P.S. Afterwards, I was already in Locust Point, so I got crabs by myself at 11:30 in the morning before going back to work. I was hte only person in the resturant and I was still wearing a business suit.

one red paper clip dot com

This is brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

Finn McCoul

Benendoner was a Scottish giant who came over to Ulster by building the causeway. Finn McCoul the Irish giant was frightened but decided to dress up as a baby in order to frighten Benendonner - if this was the size of the barn what was the father like! - so he fled back to Scotland destroying the causeway which can now only be seen at both its ends in County Antrim in Northern Ireland and on the isle of Staffa in Fingal's cave. Incidentally Finn McCoul was also responsible for creating Lough Neagh in the middle of Ulster by picking up a clod of earth and throwing it at another giant in Scotland. He mis-aimed and it fell into the sea and became the Isle of man halfway between Ireland and England.

Or, Finn McCoul is my neighbor Walter's dog who was given the name of the immortal Irish legend. Walter is blind, and Finn is no seeing eye dog, he's just a regular mutt with bells on his neck so Walter can hear when he's walking the wrong way. I've known who Walter was for quite sometime. I've seen him drive before. He just sets his walking stick next to him on the passenger seat and sticks his head out of the window so he can hear if there are any cars or small children coming. He also was up on his roof fixing it. He said that he did fall off once but seemed to think it had nothing to do with him being completely blind. He was a Hopkins boy who married a Goucher girl. He opposes the war. Likes freckles (which is hilarious) and his dog Finn loves salt and vinegar chips. What a smart dog. When Walter fixes his car, I hear him with a screw driver tap-tapping under the hood, so he can hear where the carburetor is (or whatever it is you keep under there) And he goes about fixing one or two things himself. Also last night, I don't know if it was all the wine, but I thought Walter was a kind of hot for a sixty-some year old blind neighbor.

Last night, Mike and Eric and I played board games and drank wine. We were going to go out, but I'm poor until my paycheck comes through - so we spent the night at the bistro (which is my front porch, but with a table cloth and a candle.) We ruled at board games. I like that we all played as a team. I hope no one in the neighborhood saw me trying to do charades for "mechanical bull."

moog

Famous Goucher husband and inventor of the world renown Moog synthesizer has passed away.

Single Scoop of Philadelphia with 'And Vicinity' Sprinkles, Please

This weekend I went to Philadelphia. Halfway into the drive there I realized I forgot my cell phone and also that I didn't have directions to where I was going. I drove around west Philly - and some parts of the city which were not west Philly (when I was totally off track.) I didn't even know her address and her phone number was in my cell phone back in Baltimore. My only hope was to find her on foot. very, very, very luckily I sort of just stumbled my way through a block party and realized that I was directly in front of her house. I'm amazed I even recognized it. They have a refrigerator out front for Food Not Bombs, and other dumpster-loving crusties - and I can say, I've never been so happy to see an old fridge on a front porch as much as I was at that very moment. Well, I guess except for when I was watching Sanford and Sons, 'you big dummy':


(oh geez, Redd Foxx looks so cute in a hoodie.)

In Philly, Brian Jeanne and I spent the entire time hanging out with pat, Jeff and Liz in the suburbs. It was a continual bikini cook-out for two straight days. Sunday afternoon we got gigantic ice cream cones that Tanner's Farm in Richboro PA tried to pass off as a single scoop.

It was a great way to end a weekend. We all passed out into sugar comas in Jeff's living room remembering so fondly our childhoods where we each visited Tanner's farm, watched the cows, ate ice cream and got it all over our face. Sunday was just like that.

Today, I'm back at work.

the world is flat

My boss just asked me to pick up this book so I can understand what directions global companies are headed.



"On an ideological level, Friedman's new book is the worst, most boring kind of middlebrow horseshit. If its literary peculiarities could somehow be removed from the equation, The World Is Flat would appear as no more than an unusually long pamphlet replete with the kind of plug-filled, free-trader leg-humping that passes for thought in this country. It is a tale of a man who walks 10 feet in front of his house armed with a late-model Blackberry and comes back home five minutes later to gush to his wife that hospitals now use the internet to outsource the reading of CAT scans. Man flies on planes, observes the wonders of capitalism, says we're not in Kansas anymore. (He actually says we're not in Kansas anymore.) That's the whole plot right there. If the underlying message is all that interests you, read no further, because that's all there is." - Matt Taibbi

What the hell am I doing??

unlocked and open

yesterday, I was a dummy. Somehow I left out my backdoor, leaving my front door unlocked. My front door has a tendency to swing open when it's unlocked and apparently it was wide open. Was anything stolen? no. But I did arrive home to find a little gift of gummy cars from ikea on my kitchen table. Amazing. Apparently, if you leave your door unlocked, and in this case, open, it gives your friends a chance to leave you delicous snacks. Thank you, Jaime!

not so serious dilemma

Tonight at The Ottobar - everyone's favorite two-man rap team is playing

Do I go to see my buddies,Grand Buffet?

Or...


Do I see Earthen Sea (ex Black Eyes), who is competitively compelling, at Charm City Art Space.


I wonder if there is a way to do both. I bet there is. Or rather, I know there will be, even if I have to bend time.

Grain & Flame

I kept telling my friend Nic that he was making a terrible choice not coming to Baltimore this weekend, and in lieu of his terrible choice, I decided Friday afternoon to make an excellent one; I left work early. It was only about an hour early, but it felt pretty great. (Holla. Nic, you should be making excellent choices like me.) After work, I had time to take a little nap, which was really needed because, for some reason, my body hasn’t really taken kindly to waking up at seven recently. My bank account was ready to come back to the office, but I’m pretty sure that my body and brain weren’t quite up to speed. So, I gave myself a little respite made myself a delicious little dinner with that squash I acquired at Fran’s house. I thought, “oh, look how good I’m being to myself and my body.”

It was the only kind thing I did for my body all weekend.

Both Friday and Saturday nights I was celebrating: First Rachel’s birthday (yes, cake, and it was cake and ice cream at the same time, and probably not like any other ice cream cake you’ve ever had.) And then, Mr. Riddle’s going away party (where every ex-boyfriend over the last six years was present. This is more of a strange fact than a commentary about the event. It sounds far more uncomfortable then it actually was.) Saturday, I don’t remember what I was celebrating, but I was celebrating it real good. We ended up at a lesbian bar dancing. My thighs still hurt. Russell insists this because I kept “droppin’ it like it was hot” in my stilettos. I guess you know it was a good weekend when you still hurt from dancing on Monday.

But there were other incredible things that did not involve intoxicants and I feel like I need to mention them for two reasons. 1. They are probably far more interesting to read 2. They are probably far more interesting in general.

Saturday morning, Helena and I greeted our hangovers by rushing to Fran’s house at 9am. The three of us were going to go to her luthier friend’s house in Catonsville. He was this incredible man who builds chellos, violins, and violas by hand. He and his wife were both musicians and raised three boys who are all principal players in orchestras around the world. Helena and I were proud when Fran (who was wearing pants with sheep on them) introduced us as her “friends.” For a while, we sat sort of awkwardly in their living room as they talked about concert music in this very familiar and (unbeknownst to them) intimidating way. I was the only person in that room who had not studied music formally. As a matter of fact, I don’t even really listen to it very often, and I’m pretty sure that my limited knowledge of indie rock would be lost on the conversation. With a few dumb jokes and a couple good questions, it somehow all ironed itself out. He showed us his workshop and a recently carved scroll for the neck of his next viola and seemed excited to tell us about each step of this venerable tradition.

His shop was built onto his house and was incredible. It was fully of tiny, unidentifiable metal tools, the smell of maple and lacquers, instruments hanging from the ceiling, and a that sort of cascading light that summer mornings have through large dusty windows. One of these large windows faced his wife’s garden, which was covered in blooms and busy with beauty.
A goldfinch tried to perch on a stem of a tall flower. As it drooped Helena exclaimed in laughter and sympathy, “Oh, look, that little one, can’t seem to find a proper place to perch.” We stopped the lesson for a moment as we all watched this tiny bird fumble. And all shared a little glee from his misfortune and triumph. I loved the concept of this woman, on her knees, in the garden, glancing over at her husband hunched over his workbench as they both shared their time together though this lovely window. Their lives made so much sense together. They were retired and lovely, sharing both their independence and companionship.



The luthier was proud to show us the wood he traveled the world to find. He held it in his arms like a child, showing us how the grain of the wood is best in mountains in Romania, because the growth each tree is constant and slow. He turned over a violin - one made in Japan - and showed us the tiger-like stripes that the wood made on the back. He explained that this was the flame of the wood. Each tree is exposed to different elements and viruses when it’s growing and it affects the design of the piece of wood. The flame of the wood is marked in a different direction than the grain and gives the wood character.



He let Helena play his own viola and she trembled a little as we both were so incredibly aware with how much attention, care and measured patience he took to birth that very instrument. Together, on the way home, we imagined him making a viola for her and writing her name, or a poem, or a line of notes from her favorite concerto on the inside – like a secret tattoo for her little masterpiece, to show that it was hers before it was even born. Ah, what a whimsical day.

Hellbunny and Pat Benatar

Last night I couldn't sleep. The bunny upstairs was making far too much noise. I know, I know, you're surprised, you didn't even know bunnies made noise. Well, I'm not saying he was barking or anything, but I have to say, I think that clatter that this little lagomorph was making was far worse than a bark.

Sometime around 2am I moved to the living room because I couldn't take the bunny racket anymore. It sounds like he's ramming into his cage, which is ramming into the wall and that he's moving all around and the cage is sliding on the floor. I've talked to the neighbors before about it. They thought that maybe if they stuck a mat underneath of him he won't make as much noise. They also put this special root all over the bars. Apparently the root taste terrible to bunnies and he won't chew on the bars anymore. (but if he is smart like I was as a child, when my mother tried a similar tactic to get me to stop sucking my thumb, he'll figure a way to wipe it off.) Essentially, I think it's much more than chewing the bars of his cage anyway. I picture this bunny doing tae-bo, jumping jacks, and dance dance revolution all at one time and his cage-rattling is just too much to bear. It started driving me a little crazy as I was tossing and turning and started thinking these very Fuddian thoughts about "wabbit stew".



I suddenly dreaded any point in my life when I may have compared myself to a bunny -- you know, thinking that they were soft and cute. -- I guess that was a stupid thing to do anyway, but don't worry, I think I only ever compared myself to a bunny when I was wearing a bikini, and a bunny in a bikini is a far funnier thing. (Of course, I immediately googled "bunny in bikini" thinking I'd get hilarious images: but as soon as the page came up I remembered there are such things as Playboy Bunnies, and this search was only going to yield one thing - yes, boobies.)

Oh, so on the couch last night, where I only had to deal with the neighbors laughing and the tink-tinking of their beer bottles - oh and the pedestrian, every once in a while who would shout as they were walking by my house shouting in domestic arguments with their baby daddy. Anyway, I fell asleep at some point. And had this horrible nightmare.....If horrible can be hilarious at the same time.

I had this dream that I had been selected by MTV for one of those shows where you meet this person you are a fanatic about. In my dream I told MTV that I always went to tax-lo (this baltimore dance night) or something (which is funny, because I never go) oh and that it was at my old high school and that more than anything I'd love to meet Pat Benatar. So apparently I won this prize and Pat Benatar was going to show up at my high school and meet me. I was really confused and tired in my dream and I had just arrived from my mother's house. I showed up at my high school (knowing nothing about this Pat Benatar thing) opened the Girl's room door and decided it was too crowded so I was going to go home. Apparently it was crowded because all of the girls were surrounding Pat Benatar. --Now, if you don't know this about me already-- When awake, I don't know anything about music. I don't even know if Pat Benatar is alive or dead or any song that she might have sang. And somehow, last night, in my dream, the entire time, "hit me with your best shot" was playing - does this mean that subconsciously I actually know AND am a fanatic for Pat Benatar?

When I woke up I couldn't figure out why was I so upset when MTV told me that I missed my one and only chance to meet her? Why did I cry when Pat's chauffeur chastised me and told me what a waste of time this was for Ms. Benatar and how she'll never be able to save face from being ignored on MTV, and that it was all my fault. She wouldn't even look at me. She was so mad at me and I kept sobbing and sobbing. I was such a wreck in my dream, but now I understand, it is quite possible that I secretly am her greatest fan, and didn't even know it. What else did she sing? Maybe someone should burn me one of her CD's.

helena loves fran

Dinner with Fran

Last night after work I ran and got flowers to bring with us to Fran's house for dinner. Amy made the most beautiful bouquet for Fran. I kept telling Amy - "she is a very old woman, and if you make it too elaborate, she might just faint - or worse!."

But she didn't faint. She came to the door in her apron and spent the rest of the evening running around, insisting that we wouldn't help her, and entertaining us with stories of her trips teaching in Europe and Japan.

the courses:
~cheese, tomatoes and crackers served with and iced tea
~Gestapo
~chicken admiral with mushrooms, artichoke hearts, and a side of corn on the cob ~(She's an old lady who eats corn on the cob - she's amazing!)
~little, tiny glasses of white wine.
~rhubarb and homemade cookies for dessert.

These are things I knew about Fran:

~Okay, I knew she has an identical sister. (It's amazing to think of these two excited little old who are nearing 90 who still drive, but prefer to walk places, instead.)
~She taught German, French and Piano. Also, she plays the viola
~She is kind and full of energy.

These are the things I found out about Fran:
~Her napkins were monogramed with only her initials - she's never been married and never had children
~She started teaching at Miss Fine's School in Princeton directly after graduate school in 1940
~She wakes up at 5am, but 4am yesterday
~She served in the war
~She is an excellent hostess

Also she says adorable things. She was holding a small dessert bowl filled with rhubarb in both of her hands as she found it in the kitchen and brought it to the dining room "oh, this one got lost!" she exclaimed, as she put it on the right spot on the table. And When her misshapen corncob came out of the pot she announced "this one needs orthodontia."

Over coffee, She showed us old yearbooks from schools she worked in throughout the years. She was beautiful and tiny, as she is now. After doing some of the math last night Helena and I realized that Fran could not be any younger than 86 and is most likely 89 years old. 89 and lovely

Then, it was time to go, we were more exhausted than she was. We left with the extra squash and tomatoes from the garden.

How incredible.

[Also, Russell - did you call me last night? at 1:30 or 2? I think Russell called me drunk last night from Calvert county. Ladies and gentlemen, I have a problem where I pick up the phone when I'm completely asleep and I have an entire conversation. I hope you wrote down what you said, Russell, because I certainly don't remember.]

Amy makes pretty flowers

birthday cake, at last

Last night I drove to philadelphia for my cousin's 30th. Dave was totally surprised, or so i was told, because driving from Baltimore I missed the surprise. I brought him a pan flute - because I'm weird and he's weird. It seemed to make sense. He swing danced with Helena before they did a car bomb. I figured he fell in love with her. I mean, how could you not?

Speaking of falling in love. My brother dan was there with his new bride and my brother joe was there with his bride and new fetus. The latter of the two left because it was getting smokey, but it was great to touch christie's big round belly all the same.

It was funny to see my cousins and hang out with their friends. All I could think while drinking beer and talking about work was: "Do you remember that hallowed out tree in your back yard?, Do you remember the fort under the pine trees? Do you remember the round pool, and when I hit my head on the bottom? And the bee stings? And the hunnysuckles? And that lady who lived behind your house who used to let us pick her mint leaves and we'd smell them for hours after we were exhausted from wiffleball?" It's almost like time stopped in between when we were young to now, when our bellies hang over our pants.It's like we were always young, and then so suddenly old and grown up.

Also my brother was friends with the accordian player at the irish pub who was devistatingly handsome. He was all grey up top and dashing with that devilish smile. He was wearing terrible sneakers, but he was handsome none the less. I didn't even say hello - He plays in an irish band for god sakes - I was obviously actually crushing on Mayor O'Malley and not him. Ahhh.. Martin O'Malley.

maybe it will pass

it's raining and it's stunningly quiet in my apartment. I was supposed to be reading all about pregnancy and malaria so I can seem like an expert tomorrow as I try to write this concept paper for Exxon to give us money. Instead, I've sort of just became a little incapacitated by loneliness and sadness. It will pass, it seems to do that. But I wonder if this happens to other people too. I remember it happening to me as a child - maybe for just for twenty minutes - but every breath hurt a little bit and all your thoughts ran together as you made a litany of every tender and sad thing you could think of - but all at once. Work until we die, funerals, lost loves, war, what it will be like when your mother dies, or your best friend, what it will feel like to have old bones, what your funeral will be like... Until you come to this culminating and resounding crescendo of sadness and understanding where everything plateaus and you find some tiny comfort in the fact that everything ends, and life was meant to be this heart-shattering and poignant. You feel pleased with yourself for feeling so deeply - about anything - but especially about existence itself. Or at least this is what you say.

Afterwards, an old lady you work with, with old bones, calls you on the telephone at home. As if she knew you were thinking about mortality and loss on every level known to man. Her name is Fran. Her voice is high and she speaks quickly. She is definitely nearing eighty, but so tiny she seems a hundred years old. She invites you to dinner on Wednesday because her garden has grown too many vegetables and she needs some help "eating them up." "I'd have you over tomorrow, she says - but I play in the orchestra tomorrow." You hear her clap twice with excitement on the other end of the line when you thank her for the invitation and tell her you wouldn't miss it for the world. She is amazing and joyous about all of the things that you have just convinced yourself to be joyous about.

Then, you get invited to a surprise birthday party in Philadelphia tomorrow night. And you know how you love birthday cake. You think about birthday cake for a while and how nice it will be to see some of your favorite folks. You call Helena and tell her to meet you in Philadelphia and come to the surprise party. You convince her to come down to Baltimore too so you can both have dinner with Fran, who speaks French and plays viola just like Helena. You day dream about how all three of you will "eat up" vegetables together and talk about how delicious the chicken is, even if it's dry.

Just then, you realize that you haven't heard the rain in quite some time and the clouds have probably passed.

first day



This morning after a TB test and some necessarily boring paper work, this sign greeted me in the lobby of my little non-profit. Yes, that's right ladies and gents, "Office of the CEO".

They gave me a stack of work to get started on already, much of which I'm not exactly sure that I'm qualified to complete. I've gotten a bunch of sweet emails and hugs - starting work somewhere where you've already laid some groundwork on getting people to love you is really a nice thing. All of this is only a fraction as stressful as starting an actually new job.

I can't wait to tell you all about going to Ocean City with Russell and Michael. I'll just say for now that there was a beer bong purchased on the boardwalk - with the clever slogan "Can't we all just get a bong?" written on it - involved.

Last night, saluting my freedom goodbye, I made a picnic on my coffee table and ate a huge pile of left over crabs while watching Desperate Housewives. That show is really terrible - I'm sorry if you like it - but, it's terrible. I would have changed the channel if it weren't for the old bay all over my fingers.


Also, apparently, I'm Susan.

Oh, also, there is a huge window visible from my office. It's not exactly in my office, but it's close. I'm glad it's not in my office; if things here were any more impressive I don't think I could handle it.

revolving door

I came back last night from Calvert County and am leaving again today to spend sometime at the beach with everyone's favorite couple, Russell and Michael. Third wheel? Who me? Never. We'll have a blast and I'll probably get sunburned. I'm really letting this 'summer vacation' burn it's last embers, aren't I? I'm trying to capture every last moment until I go back to work on Monday. Someone forwarded me this email they received at the little non-profit:

I am happy to announce that Jessica [ ] will be returning to [the organization] on Monday, August 8 as Private Sector Coordinator reporting to Peter [ ]. In her new position, Jessica will help us develop better market intelligence on private sector partners, and assist in the development of corporate proposals and business-oriented marketing materials. In addition, she will coordinate a corporate outreach tracking system to maximize [the organization's] effectiveness in fundraising.

On behalf of [the organization], please welcome Jessica back and wish her well in her new assignment.

Holla.

This morning I had breakfast with Mr. Riddle himself and then a fancy Thai lunch with Jaime. I'm glad I got to see the both of them before I ran off again for the weekend. I didn't even have to unpack my bag - I'm going directly away again. I hope my life is always this much of an adventure.

I Love Calvert County


With it's arms around the beach of the Chesapeake, holding it in a tender embrace, Calvert County is home to rolling farm land, wrap-around porches, large 4x4 trucks, pastel-painted bars with accessible juke boxes and also Russell. These are the things that happen there if you decide to finish your vacation within this laid back, beer drinking, crab eating community.

You will first of all have a burping contest with your friend russell's elderly grandmother and later decide that it's a great idea to take a nap next her while watching the Bells of Saint Mary's. When she wakes up and forgets who you are and is startled that you were beside her. You'll remind her and she'll put her forefinger and thumb gently together to say "OK" as you are explaining - "you met me before, my name is Jessica, I just was napping next to you."


Also, you will eat Funyuns and go swimming.


Most importantly, you will have a fantastic time.

personal day

Yesterday jeanne called in sick for her temp job. I love this about her. It meant that we got to spend the whole day together looking at low quality club clothes and crappy shoes, hand made by babies in china. I purchased the sluttiest dress, which is somehow both backless and frontless, and these shoes:

(yes, that's right, they are pink clear plastic, and look just like those tiny shoes you remember squeezing onto Barbie's perminantly pointy feet.)

Also the street was bubbiling, like someone added bubble bath to the sewer:


Today, I'm supposed to visit with Russell when he is taking care of his grandma. Russell doesn't say mommom...wait, as a matter of fact, he doesn't really say grandma either he says "grandmaw." It's adorable.

And tonight, I'll be sleeping in my own bed. It's nice to miss your own bed.

still on vaycay

I've been away again and I suppose am technically still away. I'm sitting in my best friend's bedroom in Philadelphia while she and her boyfriend are sleeping. he is wearing the cutest pjs with hearts and birds on them. How did we all fit on that bed last night? triple spoon. jeanne got love from the left from me and got to hold her boyfriend all night, too. this was an amazing invention. Maybe we would have figured out another arrangement last night, but we were all sleepy from late-night swimming. Afterwards a gaggle of us damp young people waltzed into Wawa, dripping and giggiling. It was as if we were announcing "We have just illegally gone swimming in the local resevior - yes, where your future drinking water is stored" but all the same - they couldn't stop us then, it was too late - it was time for snacks.

Oh right, but where I have been for the last week or so before now? this time on a vacation with my mom and a little happy birthday tour of the north east. Adrian's present was, by far, the best one I brought along:

It took me so long to explain to the airbrush person that I wanted the beach scene to continue from the skirt onto the tank top. They tried to tell me it was impossible, but I knew better - doesn't it just look perfect? She and Albert and I hung out on the actual beach, and she wore it. fantastic, isn't it?

I spent a lot of time on the beach with my mom the week before. I'm comfortable with the imagary of me at the beach looking like this:



but, the truth is, I really look like this:



(Please note the oversized orange t-shirt, I was forced to buy because I was boiling in the sun; This shirt reads "Jersey Shore" ~ classy)