Discombobulation Station

HNY and the O.L.R.

Happy New Year my friends! Did you have festivities? Did you have jollity? Did you have 1 January hangovers without remorse? THAT'S how you know you saw the year out riiiiight.  Or maybe you just stayed up with your sweet boo, cuddling on the couch, while watching Kathy n' the Coop on the TV. Or maybe you said Fie to the whole endeavor and went to bed at 10 pm, well-hydrated and righteous.  Regardless - hope it was just what you needed to see the year off and in.

I spent the Eve in an inpardonable flog of grumps. I was tired from being old, and depressed about my just a tad too-peaceful birthday (waaah poor me, I know, but when you go from the all-nite-wahoos of yore to the in-bed-at-9 with practical presents blahs in just a couple of years, it's a bit...abrupt on the psyche).  I grumped over my favorite lamb, swiss chard, and mashed potato dinner. I grumbled as I baked the delicious bread pudding. After reluctantly enjoying the 30 Rock marathon, I scowled at the celebrations on the TV and gruffed when the FYD went out to do chores (why didn't he want to hang out with meeeeee? surely I was delightful company). In fact, I gave up on the whole thing and put myself to bed with my depressing book at 10:30. And then, when I wasn't asleep at 11:56, decided to go back downstairs and at least give the man a kiss at midnight.  

Fortunately, the new year got better. Shook off my foul mood and we were actually SOCIAL. We went to a lovely brunch hosted by a someone who I think might be a new friend (omg a new friend that I met all by myself!! well through my mother's group but you guys omg she invited me to a "secret" event on FB!!!111!!! that means we are really like friends right???).  Little A. and the FYD both had a nice time socializing in their age brackets and interests, and I talked to other moms and my awesome dance teacher.  

Saturday we rested from the strain of being social, and prepared for the storm of the century that never quite occurred. Then on Sunday we had people over for brunch! Some old friend's of the FYD's who he temporarily lost in the divorce but now they have a baby and want to be friends! They are so nice and their baby is little-old-man adorable! Can you believe it! I can't. It was great. And then Little A. and I took a nice long nap on the couch and we decorated a snowman and my horrible stinky mood evaporated for good and I started to love 2010.

Yeah, that was a SUPER long intro ever for the Obligatory Listing of Resolutions Which I Shall Set Down For All To See, That Ye May Hold Me Accountable. 

1. Stop being such a sad-sack grumpass. Seriously, it's time to stop blaming my hormones and just be fun again, and remember how to APPRECIATE (subresolution: wean the baby at 1 year old, if not before. I am one of these weird people who loves breastfeeding even though I am sure it is draining my energy, libido, and general will to be fun, and giving me arthritis. So, we'll move on to the next phase of mommying and see how that goes, mmkay?).

2. Lower my cholesterol. It is SCARY HIGH.

3. Get on top of the household financial situation. (scary to do as a newly minted SAHM, but I am looking into credit counseling and budgeting and coupons and general pinching of the pennies! None of which I will tell you about, because that shit is capital B-oooring)

4. Go to dance class regularly. And do the spring performance.

5. Make things: bread, scarves, whatever. Just stop sitting on your creative urges and actually MAKE things.  (subresolution: learn how to sew)

6. Bring Little A. to visit the old ladies (my grammas, who adore the bean even if they can't quite remember her name) more often.  At least once a month.

7. Write things. Buy a book of poetry writing prompts (any suggestions?). Do NaBloPoMo for at least two months. 

8. Read things. Turn off the stupid TV, and go to the library, you dumbass who complains about never having any books and just re-reads the same shit over and over even if it is depressing (see above)! 

9. Grow things. The baby, of course, but also a garden outside, get more plants for the inside, and get a new kitty (subresolution: keep house tidy and cute).

10. Get really really drunk at least once.  Preferably in New York City, with Nurse Green, my coblogger, and the FYD, but any combination of those folks anywhere in the world would be OK. 

Wishing you a totally awesome TWENTY TEN!

xoxo, A

My Parents Were Awesome

Most parents were.

The top ten things for which I am eternally grateful to my parents:

1. Teaching me how to follow recipes (and other instructions)

2. Encouraging my independent streak 

3. Arguing with me when I was wrong...

4.  But also demanding I not back down when I am right

5. Somehow imparting that sex was not scary, weird, or shameful (but getting me on The Pill as soon as they knew I was doing it)

6. Sending me to Lessons: swimming, skiing, horseback riding. Also: my mom paid for my amazing summer camp out of her own pocket. 

7.  Letting me read everything I could get my hands on, regardless of age-appropriateness.

8.  Teaching me self-reliance and attempting to teach me how to amuse myself.

9. Bankrolling my first, solo trip to Europe.  8 weeks, a backpack, a Eurail pass, and a boyfriend in Poland. Would YOU have paid for your 20 year old daughter to do this? I don't know if I would/will.

10. For, without ever saying it, I just know: no matter how far away, they will always, always be there for me, when I really need it (not that I will ask them, see #s 2, 3, 8).

Now, you!

xoxo, A

The Year in Snog 2007

Guess what guys! I am baking tonight (my famous lemon tart, and peanut butter chip-chocolate cupcakes). And watching a marathon of When Harry Met Sally. So what better time than the present to deliver, Oh yea, long promised, late delivered - Snog List!

Can you believe it is volume IV*? Oh, the wisdom I have obtained. The life lessons. The...hangovers.

And without further ado - A's (probably last even mildly interesting) SNOG LIST.

OH! In case you forgot - snog: verb, to kiss lengthily, passionately or lustily (merci, peevish)

OK I said there wouldn't be any ado, so here's the list:

The Prince (MTHB 'o5, RTT, E would say GRTBR)

The Irish Carpenter (MAB '04 - winning the award for longest run on Snog List!, FN)

The Colgate Kiwi (MAB '07 - my one and only one night stand EVER! and he taught me about an awesome toothpaste)

The Senator (MAB '07, RTT)

FYC (MAP** '07, RTT, OG, THOHILMITY!!!***)

Not nearly as long as previous years, but boy, this was still a pretty noteworthy year. I am thinking I am going to have to come up with some other measure. Maybe a collection of recipes? Or stories about the cats and the greyhound? EEK. No.

Anyway, how was yours? Your year, I mean. You don't have to share your snogs unless you really want to.

xoxo, A

*that means Disco Station is 4 years old! Cranky little toddler, about to go to school.  Probably can read already and bosses around its little brother.

**new acronym: Met At Party. Can you believe we never employed that one before?

***another new one: Totally Head Over Heels in Love, Moving in Together, Yay!

Feliz Discombob-leanos

Today, my friends, is a special day.

Today, January 11, marks the day that D-Station was born. Hooray! We may not be the most consistent, sober, or erudite blog on the web, but it's ours, and like every mama loves her own baby, even if it's ugly and does nothing but poop, eat, and cry, boy do we love our lil' blog. If only for its handiness as a procrastinatory tool. And as a place that completely accepts my use of disgraces of English writing such as "procrastinatory" with nary a peep -- nay, indeed, you have supported my crimes against English with like, ACRES of support.

So to mark this very special day, we present to you a very special list:

Her Top Six So Far

Wherein we list our most favorite posts written by the other

(please note this was a tough list to compile because my coblogger is a GENIUS who makes me laugh all the time so hard and follow so many links all the time that I am sure, sure, sure to get fired)

1. Because it's a lovely slice of E's life, which I always crave 'cause she lives so far away and I must know all minutae of her day, and also it contains my most favorite line ever: Smell the sandwiches in the air: A Different Kind of Morning.

2. Because it prompted equal portions of hysterical laughter and sympathetic cringes for my poor E: Little Shop of Horrors

3. Because she is really fucking smart: (her section of) XXX Made You Look

4. Because her travelogues are always so interesting, and her storytelling so good, and because of the 3 little words shag carpet diving: Lemme Tell You a Story

5. Because even though it was my idea and it totally scandalized her to write, she did a bang-up job of writing about, um, bang-up jobs: this edition of a Half Dozen of the Other

6. Because even when she's wasted, she's thoughtful and funny and yo, keeps it real: You Asked For It, Drunken Blogging

And lastly, I have to make a special point of praising E's semi-regular Armchair Activist posts. She makes me so proud with her growling at the world! One of these times, when she gets the super powers due to her, all you corrupt unfeeling bastards better PRAY. OK?

Thanks for reading and commenting. Keep on keeping on, and all that. But. If we don't get a goddamn book or movie deal out this SOON, you can just forget about it. No, I joke. We do it for love. And to make fun of people we hate.

Not you. We love you.

xoxo, A

Six of One: The Crazies

I was telling my co blogger A.  yesterday what a wonderful walk I had to the Harold Washington Library, even though the farther you go south in the loop, especially on an unusually warm November afternoon, the more crazies you see.  I wasn't into the crazies yesterday.  So we decided to make a list - our most memorable run-ins with crazy people. 

1.)    Top of the list is definitely the 50 year old woman at the condo party in Ukranian village. It was being held by mild mannered Pakistani-American doctor brothers who had a love of old school soul music, and things were going smashingly until she comes in - along with one metrosexual hipster and two teenagers at that.   I first spotted her kneeling down and chatting animatedly to two sassy lookin' ladies who wanted to have nothing to do with her.  Then the host comes over to me, whispering, "I'm scared."    MB & M were watching her from afar.  I told them that host had imparted to me that she was with the young hipster dude, the one with the expensively coiffed hair, like with him with him.  Staring ensues.  I love to stare at people when they are obviously so different, to watch them interact and see if its for reals.  Next thing you know, she's walking towards us, and my friends are looking up at her with guilty yet welcoming faces (don't do that, girls).  She tells us a variety of bizarre things, all while swearing she used to be a ballerina and doing plie's or whatever they're called on the floor in front of us:  that she married said hipster boy in a ceremony that day, that she was running the Chicago marathon the next day (hardly likely), that she was married to Jim Morrison as a teenager (and pointed out some song that was about her), etc etc various weirdness.  Then her "husband" walks over to me and shows me his gothic ring, which looks like it was on sale at The Alley.  I say, making conversation, "so I heard you got married today?"  "No," he replies, "it was a couple of days ago."  Oh how easy it is to forget when you were married!  Next, the woman introduces her son, a 14 year old scrawny redhead LPHS student who she explains has a penchant for "vintage porn."  Oh, that's lovely!  Her "husband" introduces his "brother" and the woman leans over and says, "I didn't know you were his brother - get out!"  At the first sign of a distraction I run to the balcony to have a smoke and everyone follows.  It's slightly entertaining, but also deeply disturbing to be witness to such characters.  When she follows us up there, demanding cigarettes and for young boys to retrieve her drink, I catch her saying to her "husband":  "I need a smoke man, I'm all 8-balled out, dude. No more 8-balls, man."  'Nouf said, certainly, but this woman was certifiable at any rate. And a room full of psychiatrists and social workers wanted nothing to do with it.

2.)    My next favorite crazy is someone I'm kindof fond of because I see him every day. He has a post on a restaurant's ledge just west of the Prudential Building.  He's a tall, somewhat handsome looking man with a badly disfigured foot, which I think I have seen get worse over the four years I've known of him.  He has Tourette's, and simply sits by the wall yelling incomprehensible things all day (at least its not cursing and addressing people in particular).  I know he has a lot of friends, because all sorts of people visit him.  Other street people, office workers, they sit right down for a chat from time to time. Once I even saw a businessman walk by with some colleagues and greet him while he was mid-tourette's speech, and the businessman made a joke, perhaps one they shared before: "where's your cell phone?" and my man with the crutches  smiled and nodded to him, acknowledging exactly what was going on.  In a way, and I know this isn't my place to say, but if he's happy outside, and everyone else is happy with him, and no one has to deal with him shouting all day in their home, then is it so terrible? Well the leg, yes, well, that's pretty terrible, its not being looked after.  Ok never mind.

3.)    I have fond memories of a Vietnam vet (self proclaimed) who used to hang around the student bars of Loyola.  He had an angle I suppose --  free beer.  But for someone who was studying history, and taking a Vietnam class at that, he was hard to resist.  He had all kindsa conspiracy theories to share, and to tell the truth I don't think he was that far off the mark.  I brought my recorder to the bar one day to find him and we had a chat - he told me that while he was there he saw boatloads of oil leaving the Vietnam coast, and went on to describe a vast network of government cover-ups, lamenting all the lives lost for oil.  The US government is  a little bit more up front about it nowadays I guess. 

4.)   I used to work in a Chinese take-away in Dublin (yes, I did really, I'll let that sink in for you) and we had our fair share of crazy drunks who would stumble in from McCloskey's next door.  One of my favorites had to be the older man who only ever had two jokes to share, this is how decimated his brain had become with the pints.  One was just a noise he would make, like "hoya hoya" or something stupid that he thought was hysterical.  The other joke, which I still find hilarious, much to my friend Maria's chagrin, he would only remember upon seeing Maria and asking her where she was from.  When Maria dutifully replied her home county a lightbulb went off above his head and he said, "Offaly? That's an offaly nice place to be from! It's offaly nice to meet you!" etc etc etc. I still think its funny mostly because Maria hated it. Ha.

5.)    And finally, I have come to realize that the people that are closest to me are 100% USDA Grade A certifiably cra-zy.  Perhaps I like it this way.  I don't know if you can tell or not, but my gorgeous co-blogger A. is incredibly smart, talented, vivacious, and well, sometimes, totally bonkers (esp when you add caffeine). My roommate and 'station member Lori gets completely manic, to all of our delight.  My old roommate? Total comedic neurotic, which she freely admits.  Everyone else is either a budding alcoholic, workaholic, or a loopy-headed mess, so we are all in good company.  Oh yeah and my first two loves were both later diagnosed manic-depressive (cuz that, apparently, was what I was lookin' for in a man).  But for the record, my father has to be the only crazy person I love so dearly.  He's so crazy, man. It just makes you shake your head and go dad, you are insane. Let me get out of your way. Which is a good attitude to have sometimes with the crazy peoples.

* I know I only have 5 but I just can't come up with any more crazy people. Its like art: they are everywhere.

Vexation Station

Hallo, darlings. Please pardon my long silence, which my sistablogga has more than adequately covered, but NYC life has been...full. Will share stories ASAP (your usual melange of work fatigue romance intrigue scandals denouments beginnings, etc). But first thought I'd quick dash off a list:  a Tuesday list entitled What Is WRONG With Today?

1. The alarm went off. Serious drag. I was having one of my most interesting dreams in recent history, involving natural disasters (tidal wave & Pompeii), reincarnation, gorgeous mansions with hidden rooms and mysterious handsome companions.

2. Wah. You should have heard the wind! How do you get dressed when it sounds like all the tops of the trees are going to snap off? It was seriously like Dorothy's house in the tornado out there this morning.

3. My breakfast plate shattered all over my bedroom floor. This annoyance is in counterpoint to the fact that since I now live alone I can IGNORE that mofo until I get home tonight.

4. Can I just say: $#%$#%#@$%$">$&@#&$#%$#%#@$%$^##@@#!!!! Microsoft Excel.

5. Two days before I get to go to Chicago! TWO WHOLE DAYS! Argh!

6. It's only 2:30.

What's going on with you?

xoxo, A

Half Dozen of the Other - Obsessions

You know you have them, those little quirks in the back of your mind, your brain keeps floating back to them out of some need. Comfort? Unfinished business? A search for answers? Just plain craziness?

1.    First off I just used this word on Sunday to describe how many times a day I think about buying this book by Jill Soloway, Tiny Ladies in Shiny Pants.  I've read two reviews of it, and a bit about her, and am so impressed she was a writer for Six Feet Under, which has got to be the coolest job ever, and I hope I like the book because I think she's my new best friend. If she's not freaked out by the stalking.  Here's a link to a short piece that, strangely enough, got her writing jobs in Hollywood. I hear she likes to google herself so Hi! Hi Jill Soloway!  I'm going  to buy your book after work today!

2.    And then yesterday I admit to my co-blogger that not only am I playing Tegan & Sara's So Jealous album on my computer at work but that I am also jammin up close and personal on my headphones too, whilst on my way to and from work.  Naturally it sounds a lot better that way.  And on Saturday I did something that I remember doing in high school - I was listening and felt compelled to jump on my laptop and look up the lyrics to a certain line I couldn't make out.  So yes, a bit obsessed. If you remember correctly, I had already had the one song stuck in my head for a long time.  Now its the whole freakin' album.

3.    On a purely physical level I must admit that I am a teeth clencher, which has its advantages and disadvantages.  My dentist said that my teeth are less likely to fall out at a later age, because this behavior actually strengthens the roots.  But it wreaks havoc with all the other work she put it, which she will have to just replace as we go along. Cuz I tried to stop but its not happening. 

4.    Sometimes when I'm the passenger in a car, whole holding a conversation or listening to the radio, my head does this weird thing where it wants to mentally draw lines between the trees on the treelawn and a random object in the street - usually a dotted line or another car or anything handy really. They just all have to have a match Ok? OKAY?

5.    I still know all my cheers from gradeschool cheerleading (the cheers being much more along the lines of a 70s groove dance than the robotic arm movements that encroached around us) and dance steps from seven years of Irish dancing.  I practice them in my head, don't ask me why.  "That's the way, uh-uh (snap snap!) I like it, uh-uh, uh-uh" etc etc. The Irish dancing in particular I used to perform secretly on the soft pad of my thumb, using my second and third fingers as the tapping feet, an exercise I can perform as I walk or talk to anyone.  Scared yet?

6.   I'm not obsessed with sex, or boys, or relationships, but I do have a bit of a work crush which is worrisome.  Only a little bit alarming. Because all I need to make my day, is one  sighting of him, one long glance watching him walk down the hall in front of me (better for letting your eyes feast and delight in the sight) and inside my head something is going "I Love Him. I Just Do. Hello. I Love You."  Sigh.  WOW.  That's weird, especially for me.

 

Six of One - Obsession List

Dear readers, we love you, and hence: the triumphant return of the Tuesday list!

Like a butterfly, a wild butterfly, collected herein, for you, are some of the things that are taking up an undue portion of my brain.

You are an obsession, you're my obsession: 

1. Album 1 of the Led Zeppelin 1990 box set. I have long maintained that I was born in the wrong era. Should have been a Zep groupie back in the day, with long flowing hair reeking of marijuana and a flask of Jack in the pocket of my fringe-y suede jacket. And it's just getting worse as I get older.  All new music SUCKS, like, totally. God. I forced classic rock radio on my passengers on a recent 6-hour drive, and now I can't stop hearing "Your Time is Gonna Come" in my head. Help.

2. Um. My co-author is not gonna like this but...I can't stop thinking about sex. Having it. It's been over a week since I've seen the Prince and...and...I could chew through my damn rocking chair. Gotta tell you -- it's extremely difficult to focus on my boss's request for a few quotes from some random politician when my brain is going sexsexnowsexsexdirtysex. Perhaps I have turned into a man.

3. Every morning I MUST take a different route to the subway. Since moving, I have access to many different trains and it really comforts me that I can just spontaneously decide, the instant I step onto my stoop, whether I will walk past the new coffee shop on 4th Ave and look at the orange morning glories or windowshop the shops on 7th Ave or maybe check out the sign of the curmudgeonly sign guy (CSG) down at the end of Union Street. Currently, CSG's sign reads: "U may B SLOW but you do POOR WORK." *

4. We hereby bequeath the summer of 2005 Andrea's Rerun Summer. Not with men or TV, thank Shiva, but BOOKS. All of my old favorites and some previously not-so-favorites which I now appreciate in great big bunches -- have found their way to my nightstand and my work bag and my suitcase. I feel sort of incapable of picking up a new book right now. Hmm...anyone else think this may be sort of related to my distaste in new music? Perhaps I am just obsessed with dealing with familiar works of art. Perhaps am lazy, broke piece of poo who hasn't got the gumption to go into a bookstore or a musicstore and browse. Does anyone else find these places excruciating?

5. Here's a good quirk for ya: now that it's getting to be sock season again, I realize I put both socks on before both shoes. You know why I do this? Because one time, ages ago, I read an article somewhere -- probably in Parade or Readers' Digest or some shite at my parents' house -- and it said that it is more typical for people to do it the other way: sock, shoe, sock, shoe. I thought me particularly atypical at the time, and so decided to rebel against the bourgeouis tradition of the typically shod and -- damn. It stuck. I'm trapped by this willful eccentricity!

6. I really really really really really really want to learn to play the cello. WHY on EARTH?

Feel free to share. No, seriously: it will make us feel a LOT better.

xoxo, A

*Soon to be a regular feature -- with pictures!

NYC - A (Quick and) Short Story

Wowza. Am I beat. Yes indeedy, but I wouldn't have it any other way. We did lots of STUFF. A lot of it involved drinking. Some of it involved boys. Some music, some film, some nature even.  Rather than go into it all right now (I'm still trying to sort it out) I can make a wee list of highlights, if you're interested. If not, go read something else for chrissakes.
*    Got into town, closed Great Lakes with A.  Only after accosting, frightening, humbling and making out with one 28 yr old Harvard educated editor boy who I had already abused sufficiently last year.
*    Ventured to Tribeca in heels, had dinner. Went to surprisingly tame rock show at cleverly named "Tribeca Rock Club" filled with screaming co-eds and, entertainingly enough, one young phish-head who did the scoot-dance all the way through the night. He was totally tripping on shrooms or something. So very funny.
*    Was introduced to my new favorite dive bar in Brooklyn, O'Connor's, where the crowd is sketchy ("What Up Junior? Keep doin your crackhead dance - I like it! Now go away, you."), the drinks are cheap, and the ashtrays come out at 2am.  Or maybe they don't. Forget I said that. Nearly hit A. right smack in her toned arm for never bringing me there before (she used to live farther from it, so I forgive her).
*    Went to yoga with the  master (...bater - NO! Just kidding, A.).   I think I made an impression. But I didn't do no headstands, yo. We don't get that far in the park district. My belly is still sore from doing crunches and bicycle moves and shit. Damn that April is something else. Plus, she's kinda hot. You kinda wanna work for her, to impress her.
*    Did a walk in Prospect Park, bought some extra-cute tops at Beacon's Closet.
*    Went to S.'s bar for nice crisp imported pilsners and yummy Thai food, ordered in. Got to see S. flirt shamelessly with a 22 year old Williamsburg boy (read: dirty) who had just come from the beach. She wanted to lick him (for the salt on his arm, naturally).
*    Got properly tarted up, with a ton of black eyeliner and a rilly low cut top and red heels,  and accompanied A. to the Rub (what is this, the 5th time we've linked them? Hey DJ Ayres - A. has a crush on you cutie!), where I drooled over men of every color and style. A fun, sexy, be-boppin' time.
*    Closed Great Lakes again, ran into editor boy and kissed him some more, but calmed him down quite a bit.  A. staved off advances of someone we formerly thought was crazy, now just freakin hilarious. Invited to sleep elsewhere, decided I liked A.'s bed too much.
*    Went to Chelsea Flea Market and environs (sorry I was so tired A.!).  Suggested movie time after that, and we saw Rize, which I thought was excellent and much much fun. Oh plus I cried.
*    Met S. & JP for Mexican and happy hour margaritas, which turned into more margaritas, which turned into red wine, which turned into whiskey. Suddenly NOT tired anymore. Am alcoholic and miserable when sober, apparently.
*   Had lovely brekkie with A., walked to the Brooklyn museum and back through the botanical gardens and the park. Decided we would get married. No, just kidding. It was just the most perfect day tho. Got a ride to the airport (sniff!) and then got stuck in Cleveland for 3 hours.
*    However, think the delay was fate because flying back into Chicago at 9pm I had one of the most extraordinary visual experiences of my life - the sky was having a party and I was invited.  Fireworks everywhere. Its was a clear night (up there at least) and I never realized before how many fuckers get into this fireworks business.  Every other block had shit going up into the air, and then there were the bigger displays by the lake, all the way up and down from the south side to the northshore, and in the little parks throughout the city.  When Lori picked me up it was like a battlezone on the ground level tho.  Lawrence was all smoky, and groups of kids ran everywhere, or stood around mini silos of explosives.  Ironically enough on our independence day I was fantasizing a war zone. Go figure. You think its loud by your house? Go DRIVE AROUND. The whole freakin city is jacking off to their own booms.

So that's that.  (Oh and the apartment looks fantastic, to those of you wondering how I reacted.  Where was the camera crew?  Lori did a smash up job, and I'm so comfortable and excited to have her as a roommate.) 

Photoblog to come!   A., I'm sure you have something to add?

xxx

E.

Six of The Other Ones - YAY NYC

Good Idea, A.

No better way to get excited for the annual debauchery that is FOURTH of July than to make a list. Blogger reunion! Watch out boys...we have a special kinda chemistry when we're together, you're like moths drawn to the light.  Bees to the honey. Flies to the picnic. Ok I stop. Hence, my list:

1.   Great Lakes.  I always want to go to this little Brooklyn bar, with its cozy lighting, brick exposed walls, fantastic jukebox and cute-ass boys.  I like the Brooklyn lager and the scenery  outside too, when you're smokin'. Nice foot traffic and the odd celebrity here and there.  Smokin' outside ain't so bad.  Or if you wait long enough, you don't even haveta go outside (shhh!). We're going to do Great Lakes-dancing-more Great Lakes. Perfecto!

2.    Walking.  For me, New York is made for walking.  Well, prolly it is for everyone but you know me, lil midwestern girl, I gotta check out all the shop windows, and the people watching is divine.  Plus A. is also a really good walker and takes me farther than I thought we would go.  But she is open to stopping for ice cream or drinks (even the hard kind! who US?) so it breaks up the day quite nicely.  Plus the parks are to die for - Prospect Park is beautiful, but I have some more Central Park to explore yet too.

3.    Shopping. Duh! I used to be crazy about the shoes, but last time I started to notice that all the stores were carrying the same lines.  So I think I will go back to hunting through the hoochie mama shops, the knick-knacks in Chinatown, the cool vintage stores in Brooklyn.  And from what I hear we're going to a real live Chelsea flea market to help decorate A.'s new apartment. I imagine antique mirrors and rusty iron dumbwaiters on wheels.  Oh yeah and IKEA in Jersey. No shit - she's going to Jersey! (Lori this is ALMOST as exciting as the time you took me to Iowa. I hope my photo of the Hudson is as impressive as the Mississippi.)

4.    Magazine Hour.  This is when two very hungover yet giggly girls lay around on A.'s fabulous white bed and read glossy magazines for an hour or so.  Its 'sposed to be quiet time but factoids are exchanged and sudden memories of boy misbehavior come to the fore and more cracking up laughing and rolling around is to be had.  Magazine Hour is usually accompanied by music you can sing to, like Rufus, Liz, PJ or similar.  And some big ole ice teas and leftover bagels from breakfast.

5.    After-party.  I hope I'm not jinxing us here but A. & I have a way with the afterparty.  Whether it be a closed bar, some young 20-something's house or just a walk to the deli or diner we refuse to go to bed just because the bar hath closed.  I try to keep her up until sunlight so we can walk home hand in hand and make up our own lyrics to songs we had been singing earlier at Magazine Hour.

6.    New Things.  I guess it wouldn't be New York unless something unexpected happens.  Will I kiss a different boy every night? Well I would if it were a new thing! Would Andrea sport a Russian fur cap, trying to find its owner at 5am? Well she would if it were a new thing! We have no idea where the weekend will take us, and that's part of the excitement. I know two new things that have me excited - A.'s new place, all to ourselves, and A.'s car in back in NY.  Man its been a while since I've been in that car. I have anxious memories from Boston, of A. constantly screaming at other drivers, ("But its a release for me, see I'm fine once I scream something!") but I'm sure it will be quite adventurous.  Especially if we go to JERSEY.

Girls I can't wait to see you.  I'll be at the "Ally McBeal bar" at 5pm on Thursday. See you there!
(Chi-towne girls - keep it real for me. I want LOTS of stories from this side as well.)

xxoo

E.