new york! new york!

I'm off again, hoping that the China town express (and really? More of a hamlet than a town. A street.) will bring me safely and on time. That they don't try and fix the engine with a hammer this time. I mean really. I've never fixed a car, but I don't think hammering it will help!

I'm off for my last weekend before the semester begins. Instead of staying home as I should, I'm traveling for 5 hours each way for a merry time. Or so I hope.

Actually? I fucking love the city. I'm sure it'll be fun. I almost love the city as much as CBF, or in 50's immortal words, "like a fat kid loves cake." I don't know why that has always been my favourite line by him.

What am I expecting to do this weekend? Relax. Get a pedicure. (Because seriously? The place in CBF's neighbourhood is fucking a-mazing! The last time when the guy was giving me a serious massage, not that slap-slap with some lotion and you're done type of shit, I swear I almost had a happy ending in the chair!) Potentially have my eyebrows threaded. Relax. Walk around the city. Relax. Buy accessories I have no business buying and in no way need. Relax. *

I hope everyone has a fabulous weekend, and I would just like to take this time to blame Stretch for me taking a cab yesterday to jury duty and wasting money. I'll extrapolate on that later.

*Drinking should be added after each activity.

taking bets.

It seems that Stretch and Killer were making bets about whether I would update my blog or call Stretch.

Sigh.

It seems I failed on both accounts. Or they would have somehow made money on both.

I do have to say though that my mother's internet is frustratingly slow. I mean glaciers move faster. The Titanic sunk faster than it does to load a page with any graphics on it.

Plus? We were constantly running around with appointments and whatnot, and let me tell you, a 3 hour time difference is a very large wall to leap. In fact, I didn't talk to anyone whilst I was at home. Not even CBF. If that makes Stretch feel any better.

So, I guess this is my 'sorry' post.

That? And I'm fucking crazy because I forgot I'm going to New York this weekend.

Just as i got back.

preparing for dry heat.

Not to be confused with dry heaving.

Okay.

It must be time to take a break because that was just fucking atrocious.

I've been away this week due to my business with work and internship, but I'm about to jet off to dry heat with a layover in the city of sin, so I'll be posting more.

My music suggestion for the day though is "Blood Bleeds" by The Helio Sequence. It's one of those songs you can just listen to for hours and it kind of sounds like you're floating. I know that sounds weird, but at the moment with stress from work and whatnot, that's the best I can come up with.

Stretch? I'll be calling because I'll have reception and time.

where everybody knows your name.

So who doesn't wish that they had a bar where you were considered a regular and got free drinks.

That has always sort of been my wish. I think it's the free drinks part that I would really love. Plus? Totally cool with the wait staff. I think the closest that this has ever happened since moving to DC is Nanny O'Brian's, and even then, it's only when I'm with Killer because she knows them. Plus? Cute bartender.

Note to self (and Killer) it's time to hit Nanny's again. Must see if CBC is still working there.

What I think is truly sad is that the front desk chick at my tanning salon doesn't ask for my name anymore when I go in.

So I haven't achieved that name thing yet with a bar, but I have with a tanning salon.

What is wrong with me?

stoned white guy dance.

As Shortie said when we were discussing it, "You're body just isn't supposed to bend like that."

Shortie is a huge fan of Jerry Garcia. And I do mean Jerry Garcia, not just Grateful Dead, though that may be her main love. She's loved them for ages, and I guess, who can really blame her. I went through a bit of a Dead phase in high school, but it was mainly their Skeleton's in the Closet CD.

I remember having a discussion junior year in college, with a bunch of pretty preppy girls, and they were discussing how everyone goes through a hippie or punk stage. I mean, this one girl was talking about her hippie phase in high school, and I couldn't even fucking imagine it.

I still think she was lying.

Perhaps a hippie phase is a rite of passage that everyone does take and some people just don't grow out of.

I now know, for certain, that some just don't.

Due to the fact that Shortie was nice enough to accompany me to Iota for the Joseph Arthur concert, I agreed to go with her for the Jerry Garcia tribute concert on Tuesday.

And if anything, it was not all for naught considering I found out that August 9th is big because it was also the same day that Nixon resigned. Trivia fact I won't forget for at least a week.

I have never been to a Dead show, nor have I been to a Phish concert so I wasn't quite sure what kind of crowd to expect at the tribute concert, but I would have to say that Shortie and I were well below the mean age. Now there were some 'younger' people our age, some that were hot, but not that many. It seems that those preppy boys in New England travel down south too.

The place was fucking packed to the gills. I was surprised to say the least. Most of all when there was a person who traveled from California. California. For the concert. Like, dude, the man is dead and the person singing there on the stage 'sn't him. Not only that, but you're like at least mid-thirties and you've got a mouthful of fucking metal. I'm totally not standing next to you during a summer storm. When she was on stage for accepting her prize for traveling the furthest and she smiled, I thought I was going to be blinded by the reflection bouncing from her gaping maw. I know. It's a framed photo. It's cool. But try and not catch too many bugs.

As Shortie and I arrived early )she was taking pictures of the band for the band, so needed to be there early for a good spot), we found a space by the bar to order our drinks. Unfortunately it was next to one of the 'different' patrons who were excited about hearing Jerry's music. He immediately started blathering on to us about something, I can't even remember fucking what. I just remember thinking, a) where the fuck did the bartender go? and b) dude. Buy yourself some teeth. Everyone past the age of 40 does it. When there is nothing stopping any foreign object from getting into your mouth when it's in a closed position, it's time to look into some fucking options. There was also, of course, the last thought of, shut your fucking trap fuckwit.

I was a little tired and cranky.

I remember that Vh1 earlier this year was running a spcial on like high school fads or something. Or my high school years or something, and then had stars talking about them. One of them was a hippie one, and it had people talking about getting stoned and going to the different concerts. One of them, I believe it was Jim Breuer (good choice Vh1!), talking about the stoner hippie dance that everyone would do but was atrocious.

I had never seen it before Tuesday night.

It only took one song before some dude with his tie-dyed shirt with the Dead and long stringy hippy hair with no shoes busted to the front and started doing the dance. I mean. I think you could scare away people with the dance. It doesn't go along with the music. It looks a-tro-cious and ridiculous, wrapped in a 'what the fuck are you doing still dancing like this in your mid-40's' all wrapped into one. I was standing there thinking, Are you fucking kidding me? Then the mobs started joining in.

I can't even quite describe it. It's sorts of like, you know where if you were walking in a sheet and pretending to be a ghost with your arms out and walking in a weird way? It's kind of like that with a vicious bopping added to it. And this one dude, who should totally be sore, was doing this aggravated bopping back and forth. I'm surprised he didn't actually hurt someone.

Then of course there was the corporate sell-out trying to dance with his girlfriend. If you're wearing an ironed white short-sleeved button down shirt and front pleated khakis looking like any other geek drone, you're not allowed to try and rock out to Jerry's music. Or block my fucking view of the band, or almost step on me because you're trying to 'dance.' Fucker.

Then there was the other guy, clearly old, I mean count the number of hairs left on your head to tell your age, who replaced the annoying metronome dancer and starting doing a weird fucking fusion of the shake with a stoner movement. And get in my personal space and step on me. I was here first and you're just being obnoxious. Shake that flabby old ass away from me and towards the stage!

When not infringing on my personal space it was really funny, and the band did a really good of covering the songs and sending a good vibe to the crowd. They had this one musician with them, who played with Jerry at a concert and was fucking awesome. He had more soul in his tambourine than the entire band combined with the audience. He fucking rocked, especially when he got the lead on some songs. The voice and harmonica playing was almost what really made it for me.

What was interesting as well, was the size of the band. They had all the instruments, and as I told Shortie in the beginning, which? To make this easier for me from now on, I'm reverting to her nickname Stretch gave her in college. Sorry Killer. Hope you're not confused. Plus? I got bored with Shortie. I digress. So, I was telling Killer that I was excited someone was going to be playing the fiddle, because I really do love me some good, live fiddle playing in a band. And the girl was really good at it too.

I think stoners might single-handedly be the reason why there is the stigma that white men can't dance.

Or maybe they should really restrict that to, white straight men can't dance.

fucking cocksucker wanker

I found this advert during my initial obsession with The OC last year.

Yes. Previous to the L Word.

And it's sad really, because I think that's pretty much gone now too. Well, we'll clearly have to wait and see about that, but for the moment I'm doing pretty good.

I digress though.

I fucking love to swear. I have a mouth like a sailor, and I know sometimes it does get me into a little trouble when there are times where I shouldn't swear, but I just love to do it. Plus, it can be funny or it can really help you vent when you're pissed.

I don't understand people that don't like to swear.

Anyway, an advert in Britain, because yeah, when we were all up in arms with a nipple people, has famous actors, mostly American and of the TV variety, including a gaggle of West Wingers and all of the Scrubs cast saying their favourite swear words.

It's fucking brilliant and hilarious. The original link I had died awhile ago and I've been dying to watch it again, and with a little sleuthing I found it.

Fucking hilarious. There are some weird web ads on the top but scroll down and it should start.

I think one of the fucking brilliant parts is actually watching the actor's expressions when they are saying them - ranging to slightly embarassed to ebullient.

Zach Braff bugs lately, though I did used to have a might crush on him, but he's one of the best. As is Rachel Bilson's reaction.

Anyway, Fuck is my favourite swear word. Just for the record. Though I do love them all.

ETA: If that link doesn't work, I personally was having some problems using it again, I found it again on another person's blog...which? Totally makes me seem like I'm copying, but whatever.

rain man of queer entertainment.

Well.

I guess this shouldn't be a surprise.

I took a 'gay entertainment quiz' on planetout.com and this was what they wrote afterwards:

Wow -- you're the rain man of queer entertainment trivia! Either that, or you're
spending a little too much time studying that People magazine -- unless you're
getting ready to go on "Gay Jeopardy" or something.

Yeah.

Maybe they were right to send me 'Options.'

you fuck one goat...

I went to go check my mail yesterday; mostly looking forward to getting my Entertainment Weekly, when instead I have a junk mail and a letter from something called 'Options."

It turns out that 'Options' is a gay dating service. It's bad enough when I get letters in the mail being all, 'Single? Join us!' I remember when Stretch would get really upset when she would get those letters, and i would laugh because I hadn't received them yet.

You know it's bad when you're getting gay dating service propostions. You make one donation to HRC and all the gay solicitations come out of the woodwork.

But at least I have 'options,' right?

what's your count?

It's too hot, and I've been too tired to post anything of interest this week.

I'm still recovering from my visit to the city, and I can't shake the fatigue that I've had associated with the visit. Or it could be that I might be slightly sick, but trying not to succumb to that either. I choose to blame it on the heat right now.

Why again did our forefathers build on a swamp? Were they fucking crazy or stupid? I mean I realize it wasn't supposed to be inhabited by 'commoners,' but still.

One of the many fun things about an iTunes player is that it automatically creates a playlist with your most 25 played songs. This doesn't include songs that you skip. Only ones that are actually fully played. Along with the fact that you can always see the playcount of each song in your collection.

Clearly if you have a limited number of songs, your playcount for each should be high. Or if you like to listen to songs on repeat, like I do sometimes. It's interesting to look at the list though, to see what songs you have listened to the most, without inadvertently skipping them over.

My top played song? "Don't Panic," by Coldplay coming in way ahead of the game at 587 plays. Granted it's two and a half minutes long. Second is "In the Waiting Line" by Zero 7 at 451.

I have a hard time fathoming that I've listened to both of those songs so many times.

What's your #1 played song?

the smell of laundry turns me on.

Before you judge, let me explain.

Smell is my strongest sense. Seriously. It's as if I didn't have one of my five senses and so my sense of smell was heightened. I can recognize perfumes with people walking by, often when others wouldn't even notice the perfume or cologne. Earlier this week as I was asking my boss about my time off to go to visit my mom, I noticed she was wearing a new scent, and asked if it was "Chance" by Chanel. She didn't know because it was a sample, and so went looking. It was one of those moments, where I was like, um, I was asking and now it's weird because you're digging through your gym bag. Turns out I was right. She was duly impressed. I was duly embarassed for inadvertently making it this huge thing.

My heightened olfactory sensitivity is most likely the reason why I am so obsessed with perfumes, and yes, I know. I sometimes will spray too much in the beginning, but it's fine by the time I get to work or wherever I am. I mean it's the reason I get compliments on how I smell, right? Just as I do when I'm not wearing a watch, I feel naked without perfume on. One time in college we were all going out to dinner and someone forgot something, as I realized I forgot to spray perfume, or we were looping around or something, but I remember that I made my friend pull over so I could run back in the dorm and spritz on perfume. My friend was nice enough to indulge me, but I know she thought I was crazy and slightly annoyed. I didn't care, I just felt better when I put it on.

When I find a scent of something that I really, really like I can't get enough of it. I'll practically shove my face in it and take massive sniffs. I went on a trip for my rehearsal dinner outfit with annoying girl and she made me stop by Neiman's to see about getting her Reef's for the summer. I realized that I hadn't sprayed perfume and so I was trying to find a scent to quickly spritz on. The sales people were overzealous. Neiman's. And so I grabbed the nearest bottle, did a quick check to make sure it wasn't obnoxious and sprayed it on. I found out like 30 minutes later as we were in the car how much I loved the scent. I kept on putting my wrist up to my nose and taking a deep whiff. I went home and looked online at Neiman's for like 2 hours, because I at least remembered the shape of the bottle. I thought I may have found it, but was all, I should definitely go to Neiman's and make sure. I made it back a few weeks later with CBF and the we were unable to find the correct bottle or scent. I was crushed.

The scent of Aqua di Gio for men drives me wild. I would crush a teddy bear if it was wearing the scent. I've found guys more attractive just for wearing it. I mean, people I wouldn't necessarily find attractive at all. Just because they're wearing it. Sometimes I will smell the trail of it in my hallway or of the person in front of me. I know, my olfactory skillz are freakishly strong.

So as I was on my way to Giant on Sunday to pick up my bus pass, I could smell the laundry along the route. Sunday being the natural laundry day, and apartments cluttering my walk to Giant. The wind being expelled by the dryers was fucking awesome. I mean it's clearly mostly softener that makes that smell, but I love it. I kept on taking big whiffs, and being all, man that fucking smells good. Cologne is a big turn on, but if they smelled like fresh laundry that would also for me be a big turn on. As a side note though, I think actually doing laundry is a total pain in the ass and hate doing it. I believe I would feel differently if I had laundry in my apartment rather than traipsing up and down two flights of stairs and down a long hallway. I always love briefly shoving my face in the pile of clothes that come out my laundry bag, that are still warm, and taking a big whiff.

I know. It's fucking bizarre.

Just on Monday, the day after I was walking along the street and having the realization that this fresh laundry smell kind of turns me on, in a reaction way of, "God this smells good," and let's take another whiff, two of my internship co-workers randomly brought up laundry. We all agreed that we didn't like to do it, but the other two were all, "It's my most hated chore!" One going on to say that she will do all the chores such as dishes and whatnot so that her partner would do the laundry. I was like, "Fuck no! Are you crazy?! Dishes and everything else is so much worse!" Well, I actually just said, "Really?" But that's because I want to keep my internship.

Fast-forward to today and I'm in CVS going to choose out new shoe inserts for my sneakers. Cheap-ass Diesel sneakers where the inserts came out promptly upon purchasing them. Okay, like 2 weeks. But. Still. And I've had the same inserts since then, which was like ages ago. It's the first time I've worn them this season, and felt it was time to get new ones. So yes. I'm gellin'. Thanks, Dr. Scholl. Anyway, so I'm swinging around and down another aisle when I stop in my tracks because I smell that awesome smell of fresh laundry slash dryer sheets. I pause briefly by the boxes and take another brief smell and am about to walk on, when I'm all, should I buy this brand considering I really enjoy it? More seemingly than others? Plus, it's CVS brand and it's a buy one get one free. I start to walk away, because really. I have both liquid softener and dryer sheets at home. But then, I start to backpedal. Maybe I can leave them in my office, leaving it smelling good? And really, can you beat a buy one, get one free? Come on Karen. Just get it.

I'm now sitting here with two boxes of CVS fabric softener, and they smell pretty good.

I know. I'm fucking strange.

not quite the same, but it'll do.

Last night my holy blueberry coffee finally arrived. I was ecstatic, especially since if it did not arrive yesterday I would have been pissed because of the inefficiency of the Green Mountain site and not recording my shipping change.

So of course the first thing I did was bust open one of the bags to get a whiff. And that sniff smelled fabulous! I wanted to make a cup right then and there, but restrained myself so that I could actually, you know, sleep.

I decided that I should prepare the coffeemaker though, so that all I would have to do was turn it on in the morning, because I am such an awful morning person and am always waking up later than I should.

The result was that my apartment smelled vaguely of a blueberry and coffee mixture, which was delightful, and especially delightful to wake-up to. So I amazed myself in turning on the coffee and then hitting the snooze. Pat on the back for that fortitude.

So I made an iced version of the coffee this morning, and it was rather tasty. Still strong despite the ice, it's like I naturally make sludge or something. The only thing that would have made it fabulous though would be a tidge of milk. Then it would have been just like Breuggers. Well. Except for without the straw. Or the really tall glass. Or the plentiful ice that doesn't automatically melt away when you pour the coffee in.

Otherwise though? Totally the same experience.

Awesome! This is so going to come in handy when the semester begins again.

finally getting my hair done.

Since moving to the DC area, I have yet to find a place where I am happy with both the hair cut and the actual highlights as well.

I mean, scratch that. I can't find a place where I have enjoyed the hair cut or highlights, even if in different locations. The other main problem is the price of either, or both.

The first time I finally ponied up and said I needed to go to the hair salon because my hair was looking like shit and needed a cut, I went to the place downstairs from where I work. From recommendations from those I worked with.

It did not turn out well.

Granted at the time I was dying my hair a reddish-brown color, and I had waited too long and the roots and the hair...It was B.A.D. I mean my roots looked orangish. And were a different color than the rest of my hair.

And? It cost like 80 bucks. It could have been more. I can't remember that far back anymore.

Afterwards, I decided that it would be best to have reddish highlights instead of subjecting my entire crown and hair to the damage of multiple dyings. Because that first time? They tried to dye it like twice to make it a solid color, and it killed my hair.

So I decide not to go to the "euro" place which was cheaper, though no Europeans worked there, and went to a salon chain next door to this one. Which was also recommended. It was fine. The cut was fine. The highlights were a bit 'meh.' I couldn't really tell that they even put highlights in. The most unfortunate part was that with tipping, of 3! people, I paid something like $130.

I don't fucking think so.

Since I wasn't blown away, I refuse to pay that much money now.

The only service I was totally happy with was this eyebrow guy at the salon across the street from where I work. Yeah, I don't know why we're completely flooded with salons. This guy was amazing, and really took care and time. I was jonesing to go again awhile back and it seems that he left. I was devastated, especially since I don't know where he is now in this big bad city.

The only person who I have been consistently happy with at all times, and I do mean throughout my life including high school is this woman who cuts my mother's hair. She's fucking awesome. Whenever she cuts my hair, and either highlights and lowlights...I mean the woman introduced me to lowlights, or whatever I may ask her to do, people will compliment me on it. I don't know why she has the magic touch with my hair, but I have never been satisfied as I have been with her. She's got the touch. Even better? For a cut and highlights? $70. Awesome!

I do have to admit, I have been happy with Mrs. home-town hair-cutter. She trimmed my hair over Easter and it was a good cut. But she's also a drunk. Which we, meaning Mrs. and her entire family who have her do their hair all the time too, know. I mean the woman has bought us shots of Kamikaze before at the local bar when we've been out. Mrs.' mom says that she's been drunk and cut her hair before. She's missed appointments before because of hang-overs. I mean the stories about her are hilarious. But. They still continue to see her because she's an awesome hair-dresser. Though one time, and I swear she must have been drunks, she put the wrong hair-dye color in the bowl and Mrs. hair turned out his purple color.

Purple.

Mrs. was less than enthused if you can imagine. So they then had to strip her hair, which totally kills your hair of course and re-do the entire thing. Mrs. still wasn't totally happy with the color but at least it wasn't purple.

My hair wouldn't be able to stand a stripping, so I'm never going to let her try to color my hair.

Earlier this summer I started to think about how busy it was going to be with internship and work, and really how I needed to get my hair done again. Plus? Really need to see the chiropractor and I wanted a massage. This of course meant, hmm...I should see about going to visit my mother. I know. It's kind of awful, but I do want to see her as well.

I made my ticket on Monday.

My mom called this morning to tell me that she made my hair appointment finally. On the 18th at 1pm.

As soon as I made the ticket I was heckling her to make the appointment for me. I know. Awful.

Essentially?

I'm travelling 3,000 miles to get a hair-cut and highlights.

blueberry update.

A regular reader of this blog would believe that I'm obsessed with blueberry coffee. They wouldn't be that off either.

I was talking with Mrs. B. on the phone the other day; expounding on the virtues and tastes of blueberry coffee. Much as I first heard of blueberry coffee from Stretch, she was skeptical. I assured her that it was indeed really tasty and she should totally try it, especially since she has tons of DD's in Atlanta.

Fast-forward a few days and she M.B. calls me at work, while she's driving her car in for a check-up. It seems that she tried the blueberry coffee at DD's and it was pretty gross. I believed the words she used were, 'sickeningly sweet' and that it was just bad coffee. I do have to say that I was momentarily shocked that she even tried it because she usually doesn't listen to what I have to say if she has a firm opinion on something, and she pretty much thought the idea was gross. I asked if it was a flavour shot, which she confirmed, and I said was most likely the root of her problem. I told her that she should head towards the closest Bruegger's Bagel and try it there because it was brewed rather than with flavour.

Rule: In any case, actual brewed flavoured coffee is better than a shot of flavour. Even at DD's, which kind of pains me to say.

So I was regaling Stretch with this story last night and she was all, maybe you could buy the coffee from Bruegger's site because it is Green Moutain Coffee. Now, Stretch knowing this must mean that she frequents it really often. Or she's just a little crazy. Or. You know. A mixture of both.

Bruegger's doesn't sell coffee off their website, but Green Mountain Coffee does. And they have the Wild Blueberry flavoured one.

I now have two bags of Blueberry Coffee en route to my apartment. Okay. They'll be en route Monday, but still. WOOOOT!!!

It might not be as good as the stuff made at Bruegger's, but it must be somewhat akin, because I know how incompetent those people were at the one in PA.

The Blueberry Crisis has seemingly been resolved. And if my coffee doesn't arrive by this weekend, which it fucking should, and if it doesn't I'll be pissed, at least I can hit DD's in the city. CBF promised that we would stop by this time. Gotta try this too sweet coffee.

this one's for stretch.

It seems that one my regular reads is pimping for RIF today.

Not only, a mention, but an actual suggestion for a donation.

Could this be better than Jerry O'Connell playing (and losing early-on) for RIF in Celebrity Poker on Bravo?

I think it just might be.

kind of a dick.

In high school, one of my best friends transferred in, in the 11th grade. Up to that point she had lived all around the world, but had just spent a decent chunk in New Canaan, CT. Both Katherine Heigl and Jesse Bradford went to high school with her. She was friends with Jesse Bradford, who was no where near the 'famous' that Katherine Heigl was at the time, and aquaintances with Heigl.

From all accounts of what she said though, Jesse seemed like an okay guy. I mean the most he had really done at the point was play Balthazar in Leo's "Romeo + Juliet." Which was like, some decent background time, and like three lines. Seemingly from that movie though, the two, Leo and Jesse, became chummy. One time my friend was hanging out at Jesse's and picked up the phone. She asked who it was, and the person was all, "Leo DiCaprio." She was like, "I don't think so." And his response was pretty much, "Yes, yes, I am." So she uttered, "whatever," and hung up on him. Jesse informed her afterwards that it probably was him, and said she was sorry when Leo called back. She was mortified.

Due to this connection, I've always watched Bradford's tracks. Not necessarily watching all of his work, but, you know. Kind of watching what he was doing. He seems to be rather prominent this summer because of his work in two indie movies that I want to see, "Happy Endings" and "Heights." Both have gotten pretty lame reviews, but I've been wanting to see them for awhile, so I'll probably end up seeing both. Okay, so both have queer content to them and may be the reason why I want to see them and still will despite dismal reviews, but, whatever.

I've noticed though that Jesse's been seemingly becoming cockier over time. Plus he had some quote about playing gay that came off as being slightly homophobic, and a little obsessed with proving that he was playing gay. You know. So people would confuse him as being, uh-oh, gay. Whatever, jackass.

Then. He did this snippet interview with "People" and he's featured as one of their men of the summer. Sigh.

I'm assuming he's still not big enough to have a PR person present when answering questions, because I don't know if he would have said the same things he in fact did say.

What's it like owning a hot New York club?

It's good. I'm not really doing any of the day-to-day grunt work. It's more
just an investment opportunity, and a risky one at that. I just thought it would
be fun and interesting, and why the hell not?

Do you and co-owner Chris Noth (a.k.a. Sex and the City's Mr. Big) hang out
much?

We're acquaintances. He's good friends with my good friend (and business
partner) Noel Ashman, who's kind of the mastermind behind this whole thing.

Any memorable clubbing nights?

I got forcibly removed from Nyla (Britney Spears's onetime restaurant) in
New York back when it opened because a bouncer tried to start a fight with my
girlfriend at the time. It was ridiculous. Who picks a fight with a girl? A
pussy, that's who. I stepped in and put my hands on him and said, "What the f–
do you think you're doing?" And before I knew it, I was being escorted out by
three guys with my hand up over my head.

What about at NA?

I've had some fun there. I was there for New Year's this year. That was
great. Flava Flav performed, and then Fat Joe was just there hanging out, and he
decided to get up onstage and do a song too, which was completely
unsolicited. So that was awesome.

How's the celeb scene there?

Eliza Dushku (Bring It On) was there celebrating her birthday. We're
talking for a while, and five minutes into the conversation I'm like, "Do you
know I kind of own this place?" She's like, "What?" I don't remember what
happened after that – I was kind of drunk. I think I sent her a bottle of
champagne. It was a funny thing to be able to be like,
"By the way, do you need anything? Because I can get it."

crush.

Man, I loved that orange soda as a kid.

Actually? I loved all orange soda. I can remember whenever we would go to a fast food restaurant as a kid I would order orange soda. Unless we were going to am pm, but that's a whole different, woe is me the divorced child story.

I'm trying to stick to topics these days, rather than a total flight of ideas.

I accompanied Shortie to another art show in, gasp! Silver Spring, last night, where she had three pictures hanging. It's actually at this Cuban and Puerto Rican fusion restaurant that was part of a walking tour opening last night as well. Most of the people present were the artists and friends, and were eating and drinking. The waitress, well intentioned, and speaking pretty much no English whatsoever, was rather flustered by the crowd. And there weren't even that many people present.

Anyway. The food was taking forever, and at our end there was an artist with his bunch of friends so we decided to look at the other hangings. I mean it was the point of coming, right?

Overall, there were some good pieces. And some paintings I could have gone without. Shortie pointed out three pictures, next to hers, that I had noticed, as being the photographer who sold our friends a picture of a mushroom. On like, their first date. A picture. Of. A. Mushroom. Because it reminded our friend of Maine. He's weird. They're actually now engaged. They've been dating since the end of October. We move on.

His picture of floating tomatoes and a green pepper in water had caught my eye as soon as we came in. Though from afar, I thought the tomatoes were pumpkins or squash. What? What! I didn't have my glasses on. And it's been a bad crop year for tomatoes, and so they weren't all that red.

Anyway. This photographer comes in later, and as soon as I spot him, I'm all, "he's cute!" This, despite the fact that it was sweaty. But, it's summer, and DC. To be expected. He mentions pulling up a chair, and so I surreptiously attempt to scoot over so he'll sit in the chair next to mine.

Unfortunately my plans were thwarted when the kid who was sitting one chair over, removed his chair from the table and decided to sit in that chair. Fucking bastard.

But! When Shortie and I were looking at the art, this guy who had left and returned, and I later found out was fucking weird, sat down in Shortie's chair. I mean the guy came back from his art walk, and we're sitting at the table and he reaches over and takes this person's discarded Corona and ads water from a glass sitting next to it. Fucking, EW!!! I mean, it's not even your friend's beer or water, and you're drinking from them? And you're watering down Corona? Who the fuck are you? Plus his body language and interactions were just bizarre.

His moving to our seat though was a fortuitous chance forcing us to sit somewhere else at the table. I made sure we sat down next to Cute Photographer.

Not only was he cute, but he was really nice and kind of funny. I know I find him cute because he reminds me of Anthony Clark in "Boston Common" era, which I loved for some reason. The theme song fucking rocked too. And I'm not even that sure why I enjoyed the show so much, but I do know that I thought Anthony Clark was adorable. I tried to find the TV Guide cover of him when the show first debuted, but they don't have it archived, and there no rabid fans out there of him or the show, so...yeah.

Anyway, CP is adorable and really nice, and talented, and northern, and some-fucking-how lives with a CC alum now. What type of small fucking world is this people? Other plus? Pretty sure he's not gay.

So, of course, have partially spent the morning trying to semi-stalk him. I sent Shortie an email concerning CP and my feelings.

Her response?

"It's amazing how you can be funny and scary at the same time."

To be fair, this is what I wrote:

From: me [mailto:me@whereiwork.com]
Sent: Wednesday, July 13, 2005 11:47 AM
To: shortie@someplace.org
Subject: RE: once every few weeks...

Okay, I do not even know why I think he’s so cute. There’s a picture of him taking a picture, and I was like, aw, how cute.

We’re going to have to stalk him [Shortie]. Stalk, I say, STALK!

I wonder where he frequents? We know about the [popular after work hobby]…

It looks like I have my summer crush! Maybe he'll be as tasty as the soda.

I know. I know.

Dirty!

about the size of a stick of butter.

Everyone was atwitter with excitement concerning the birth of a panda bear at the DC zoo. The zoo has been trying for years to get the Mei Xing pregnant. Along with some failed attempts, there were the deaths of the panda bear babies before 3 months. I mean there was even a pregnancy watch last year, that just turned out to be a fluke.

In fact, they didn't even know if Mei Xing, who is on loan to the zoo, was pregnant or not until she gave birth.

The DC Zoo is now being cautious and not interfering with mother and child, seeing as on the three previous occassions the babies died. Though, supposedly Mei Xing is showing signs of being an exemplary mother. Good for her! Hee.

All this discussion is so funny, but the funniest part was the constant description of what a baby panda looks like. That it is small, and bare, and about the size of a stick of butter. Which, as DCist said, ew.

Due to the hands off-ness, and that camera looking into Mei Xing's area where you can't see jack shit, it's a little difficult to picture. So imagine my joy when I stumbled upon baby pictures of two panda bears.

Fucking adorable, huh? Hard to picture them being big ol' bears. Another interesting fact was that China, because the panda's are on loan, I assume, get to name the baby bear. Hope it's something interesting.

In sad, related news, Mei Mei, 36, and the oldest living panda bear, died in a zoo in China on Tuesday.

finally figuring out how to toast.

Since I've started working in the real world, approximately finishing up my third year [fuck that's scary], I've probably brought lunch in 10% of those work days.

I'm have the atrocious habit of just going out and picking something up for lunch. I mean I have a multitude of reasons, but the biggest would have to be my constant habit of rolling out of bed late and running to work. I refuse to make my lunch the night before; it brings back too many memories of lunches in middle school and high school and the sandwhich gets all soggy and nasty tasting.

I've gone through spurts of bring my lunch, but a spurt is the furthest it's gone. Bringing my lunch in is now a necessity with my internship schedule because I don't have time to pick up anything at all for lunch, and I'm working from 7:30 to at least 6:30 non-stop. This means I need some sort of food.

So, I've been rather diligently bringing my lunch in. And also? Toasting my sandwhich to make it more interesting. I realized my favourite sandwhiches from the shop are always toasted or grilled. Warm equals interesting.

The problem I've suffered from so far is that I haven't been able to quite figure out how to make the perfectly toasted sandwhich. The first few times in the toaster over the top slice was approximately charred to a crisp whilst the lower slice was brown. Then I just started burning them left and right. Not that this would normally be an issue, but this meant that the inside of my mouth was getting ripped up by the bread. Not Good.

Then I started watching it carefully. The problem was that the bread was pretty decent, but the inside wasn't getting warm and the slice of cheese wasn't being melted. So, not really warm, therefore, not interesting.

I discovered yesterday that if I split the sandwhich in half and toast them open-faced it creates a magical, perfect sandwhich. Something I would potentially pay money for. Other than what I've already paid of course.

Maybe I'll actually enjoy bringing my lunch now.

Well. That might be a stretch, but it'll make these summer months easier to live by.

this might be why i love london so much.

First off. There is still an apb on blueberry coffee. I've started to realize though that this may be a fruitless, no pun intended, apb.

So, you know. We move on.

I was reading my 'ists' for the day, and was excited to see there is one about Paris! Woot! And it's in French, so I can practice reading that on a daily basis. Philly was added too, as was Shangai. I was actually wondering when a Pennsylvania one was going to be added.

I digress though. Londonist had a post about the reactions to the bombings, that kind of describes why I love London and Brits, and pretty much Europeans in general. They aren't trying to sap the awful tragedy for a 7/7 event, as their '9/11' if you will, and were pretty much like, you know what? The IRA has done a better job in the past, so if you want, just buy me a beer.

I don't paraphrase really well, but it's this resolve and fuck you to being intimidated or to an emotional leeching of the awful tragedy.

I'll buy a round.

apb on blueberry coffee.

Okay.

So Stretch called one day. Okay, so she calls every day, but one day I actually talked to her and she mentioned that DD's (Dunkin' Donuts to the unhip and uninformed out there) had new summer flavours that included Blueberry and Coconut.

One thing Stretch and I have always shared is our willingess, almost stupidity, of wanting to throw ourselves out there in the world of trying potentially dodgy foods. Or just eating a mixture of food that is good, but eaten at the same time is questionable. Or just eating questionable amounts of food at a time.

So we pow-wowed and essentially were all, blueberry sounds scary. But. Good scary. Stretch reported back that the first time she tried it, she couldn't really tell, and the second time it was pretty tasty.

When I went to go visit CBF in the city I was like, we totally have to hit DD's (because the DD's here is not even a 'full' one, so who knows if they'll have the flavour and it's too fucking humid to walk 10 blocks out of the way on the way to work) and I want to try the blueberry.

The weekend was a blur and it didn't happen.

My sister and I went to get brunch at Bruegger's, because really? I'm that cheap, well I should say we, because she's po' poor. And with my breakfast bagel you can add coffee for cheap. Due to the heat I asked if I could make it iced, which I could, so: Awesome! The untalented boy who was helping me, asked what flavour and as soon as he said blueberry, I chose it.

It was: Fucking. Awesome!

I tried to go again Sunday, but apparently it's closed in this little steel town on a Sunday. Boo! So then I did an internet search to see if there was a DD's. It had 1. Which? A travesty. Even more of a travesty? I called and asked the guy how late they were open, and he was like, we're closed. If you're closed motherfucker, don't pick up the phone. This pisses me off the most when trying to order pizza after a night of drinking. Fuck you Pizza Hut worker. Let the machine pick up without giving me momentary hope.

Now. There is no Bruegger's in the 'tri-state' area of here if you will. So now?

I'm obsessed with blueberry coffee. I'm on a hunt. I'd be eternally grateful if someone could point out a coffee place in the DC area that sells blueberry flavoured coffee.

Help my coffee obsession!