Can you do me a big big big favor for which I will pay you in material goods? I need some help spreading the word about something… Something I’m very excited about. Not talking about boys this time. I’ll pay you in a mix tape and a shout out and a link to your blog on my personal blog and 2 Facebook pages, so, that’s like 1,300 potential views for you.
Plus I would love you forever, and isn’t that worth something?
Holler at me.
Why is it that when you go to a website for an alcohol manufacturer (not that I do this often, mind you), you are asked to enter your date of birth? It’s the most ridiculous thing ever, possibly in the whole wide world.
I just went to go look up some information about Natty Boh (Natural Bohemian, for those of you who aren’t familiar with the B-more brew scene). If I should happen to be a 12-year-old girl in North Carolina (or any other state) I could have lied about my age.
Checking out the site for a company isn’t the same as drinking, is it? I really and most truly don’t get the point of this exercise.
Nevertheless, now I want this tee shirt. It’s punny, and I do love Poe and Natty Boh. Just too perfect (quoth the raven, I think).
Finally some nice weather in the DMV. Wow, look, a cut black dude outside without his shirt on winking at me; thankfully I’m inside the train and he’s not. He’s probably about 6 years my junior. I wish I could show you those abs. Dang.
While others live wild enough lives to go shirtless I’m just happy to be without sleeves on this fine day. I’ll take it.
I finally ladied up and booked some vacation time for the summer (that is real vacation time and not comp days or making proper use of unused holidays). I’m going to Brooklyn to see my girlfriend Nicoley and then scooting up to Connecticut to hang with the fam for our birthdays. We are all within the same week and a half, with the exception of my sister who happens to be the outlier, all the way in December. Needless to say this birthday will not be a repeat of last year, when I drank too much too quickly at an air conditioned hotel when half my friends were affected by the horrid dorecho that left parts of Maryland without power for days. I was upset with the guy I shouldn’t have been dating because he was 44. That sentence makes it seem like I was upset with him for being old. Which I should have been. No. It was probably just misdirected anger caused by my own aging. He says I kissed every boy there in front of him but other reports of my conduct do not uphold that theory.
This year it will be more wholesome. Maybe a nice birthday cake with the fam with candles that we can all blow out together.
…then stay home! Don’t take the train or go to work and cough all over and make that horrible disgusting sound of clearing your throat nonstop all day. Nobody wants their health to be compromised by your icky germs. Do us all a favor and stay out of public places until your contagion is contained.
Do any people use handkerchiefs anymore? Aside from the one 29-year-old man I know who carries one around for the random stray booger, I don’t know anybody who doesn’t prefer a disposable tissue instead. Do you?
I don’t know what just made me think if this. I guess I’m glad I’m not shaking hands with someone who’s just used a hankie, but I just wonder if anybody out there still does. The subject captivates me, you could say.
Thought #1 – I can never take anybody seriously if they claim their cat is cuter than Nollie.
Thought #2 – What happened to that dress? It was perfect for summer.
I had maybe around 25 people (somehow mostly men) in my apartment Saturday for my second annual cinco de Mayo party, making my large apartment seem quite small.
I was on a cleaning spree before my guests arrived. Check out the photos and weep for knowing you will likely never see my place this tidy and spotless ever again.
My former roommate broke my vacuum cleaner (as previously noted), so I had to request that everyone remove their shoes. A large pile of yucky men’s shoes for your viewing pleasure:
And it’s all fun and games until two punks steal your phone and do THIS to it:
But it was a fun party and about 12 adoring men were readily available for me to force into boyfriendhood, including one whom I’d made out with last year, who decided to slice open his finger and bleed all over my kitchen. Playing nurse with a Spongebob band aid kit is not as romantic as it may seem. Trust me on that.
I even got to practice the few lines of Turkish that I know, including “don’t touch my boobs.”
My friend Leeann made margarita cupcakes and I’m sad that I didn’t get to try one. And another friend made guac. I love them. XOXOXO.
I was sad when everybody left and then I was alone again.
My friend Anthony in New Jersey sent me this. I hate it.
Just kidding. Actually I like it.
My dear sweet faithful readers:
You simply must forgive me, I’ve been all kinds of worked up over Nanny Magazine (www.nannymag.com) and have failed to bring you your reminder for rabbit rabbit day. My sweet, sweet bunnies. You must thoroughly hate me now.
And then my mind became extra sidetracked with shopping lists and guest lists and lists for lists that I still need to make having to do with my cinco de Mayo party. And patio furniture. And finding a new roommate. And who’s going to clean up after me now? And will I make it to the train on time? And why am I suddenly somehow subscribed to Rolling Stone Magazine when I never subscribed? And what happened to the vacuum cleaner? And why do I never seem to have clothes to fill the closet? And why am I dealing with this sudden onset of adult acne? And why can’t I find a decent boyfriend who meets my not-very-obnoxious requirements? And why does stupid Daisy marry stupid Tom and why do I feel so bad for Gatsby when I know deep down that he’s just a fictional character dreamt up by some alcoholic author who’s been in the grave for 70 years? And do I have enough money? And what’s that wretched sound my car is making? And and and and AND AND ANDDDDD…
Please don’t blame me if you have a terrible, horrible, rotten, no good, extra bad month. Hate me if you must but I should mention before you do that there are so many better things you could be doing with that wasted time.
On my honor I will do my very best to bring you some ultra adorable photos of bunnies next month.
I’m having a cinco de Mayo party on the cuatro instead.
Cinco is a Sunday and nobody has time to party on a school night.
Why did I foolishly invite people over when I know full well that the vacuum cleaner sucks (or rather it blows, because it doesn’t do it’s job of sucking and there’s cat fur all over the hallway). And now my free time is going exclusively to watching Mad Men on Netflix and getting my new magazine up and running.
I had a dull weekend with the exception of an excursion out to Frederick, Maryland for a maiden voyage in my friend Kim’s new car. We met lots of men, including a minor league baseball player who was in town from Nevada for a game, but all of them were younger. I guess this is one of the struggles of getting older. All the good guys are already snatched up, leaving only younger ones. I don’t even know who all these numbers in my phone belong to, including a 301 area code attached to a text saying “hey girl, I bet you don’t know who this is!” Thanks, but I’m not intrigued by the suspense and I really must stop giving out my real number. I really must.
In other news I made a delicious quiche yesterday, so being that I am single it looks like this is what I will be eating for the rest of the week. And in other other news my roommate is moving out. She got her own place so now I won’t have anybody to clean up after me. I’m not sure yet if I’ll get a new one but I’ve posted an ad on Craigslist anyway.
I forgot my umbrella today and it’s raining. I guess that’s pretty much a metaphor for my life.
And lastly I am very upset about it being Monday.