A decade of talking about feelings

Ten years ago, today, I was already up to my chin in what would be an absolutely life changing summer. I am known to throw around the hyperbole pretty loosey-goosey over here, but as I look back on my development into human-hood, the summer of 2004 stands out as a 1-UP-mushroom game changer for life.

It comes down to having the opportunity to invent myself. I had never really had the chance to be new anywhere where people cared. The person I was in high school was just a slightly taller version of the neurotic, precocious asshole third grader I had been, despite the fact that I now had boobs and a quickly developing dry wit. No one cared if I had become a better human, they all knew me and had written me off (except for my friends. You four are the best).

In New York, I had time to perfect the version of myself that I had been cultivating. But I was also busy cultivating keeping our electricity on and learning how to be a functioning roommate instead of a slobby asshole. The summer of 2004 was where all the practice of being a person paid off. I was not the best version but I was finally, a version of me that I liked more than any of the other previous iterations.  It was nice.

Also, let's be real, it was a summer of hedonism. Booze, pasta, lack of pants.  I subsisted off of alcohol and whatever other people would feed me, with the occasional peanut butter sandwich. I lived in a room with a girl who I delighted in despising. She was a fine person, but it was more fun to hate her and make drama (though, with that in mind, we got along great for two people who shared a 10'x4' cell that was only ever 100 degrees F). And it was a summer of shitty things too. Some not-nice things happened. There were so many tears, and not-nice words. But even those moments are tucked away with, "I am happy these happened, they made me a better version of me."

I learned that life should be lived, if for nothing else, "just for the story." Most of my favorite, best, oft-retold stories are from those brief and shining months free from responsibility and left to make choices that felt right in the moment. So I almost drove a car into a house, and made my friend do a shot of cooking oil, and poured hot wax on another friend's chest by accident.

I lived with people that, somehow, to this very day are in my top 10 of favorite people. I also lived with people who I have never seen since, and that is just as awesome. They came into my life for this one shining moment, with their kittens and their Mormonism and their ginger boyfriends.

It would have been totally different if I went to actual college, if I had four years of what I got all in one summer. I probably would not hold this summer up on quite such a large and sparkley pedestal, but I feel like I almost prefer it that way (which is good because our time machine is in the shop).

Since the end of May, I have been thinking about this post, and these memories. I have been reliving it with some of the cast of characters but mostly alone, enjoying reflecting on a time that feels so far away, and yet, not that long ago. I also am grateful/wistful/thoughtful that this all happened before facebook was even a twinkle in our eye. So the only picture I could find online of it is this one.

Which is pretty perfect (despite the fact that my shirt looks really weird). I am fairly sure I had no idea how that camera worked. It is only because of this turd nugget of a magnificent human being this even happened. Stupid Mikey Pits putting ideas in my head and instigating dumb shit like this.

While it is only in retrospect, I am always and forever (ie- never), tryna hang out.

Truism five-or-six

If you're going to work too hard, and demand too much of yourself, and push yourself to your limit - the least you can do is schedule yourself one night to get boozy on fancy cocktails and pork belly with two of your favorite people.

Friday five: great things about this week.

This week has been terrible. Icky bad nasty sad terrible. I wanted to spend most of it crying, but it was not the kind of week that could be spent hiding, it was the kind where I had to keepittogether, keep my head down and just get through it.

That being said. Here are five things that were wonderful and amazing this week:

1- My coworker friends introduced me to Protein Bar, if I had the audacity to call myself a lifestyle blogger, I would eat here at least twice a week and just cover my instagram in pictures of it happening. Oh my buffalo quinoa bowl. It is so good.

2- It was flip flop day! Thursday was my favorite day of the year. The day I finally wear flip flops. Oh Chicago warm weather, I missed you so much. Don't ever, ever, ever leave.

3- I got to celebrate the last friday-before-good-friday by eating fish fry al fresco with some of the nicest people in Chicago, with special guest appearance by my favorite Chi-town baby who charmed us all with her blowing raspberries and bouncing and giggling and snuggling until my heart almost burst. That little bundle of love is the cure for nearly all my sadness.

4- Boyfriend liked it so he put a down payment on it. He officially owns our apartment. Its his celebration, but I am excited for him. He is part of the landed gentry! So classy and fancy. Let's hope nothing ever breaks.

5- Tomorrow I am going to forego spending my entire day in the beautiful 75 degree weather for an amazing IOP Political TV Festival at the University of Chicago. Six hours with some of my besties including Josh Lyman, Toby Ziegler and Cyrus Beene. Its tots sold out, so just hang out in the sun and be jealous of this crazy line-up.

That was not that hard, although it was heavy on the end of the week. I am thankful I got through the first three days because the rest of the week was pretty nice. And after a great Saturday, Sunday is going to be pretty amazing too.

musings on motherhood

Last night I watched my friend be a mom.

I love having the opportunity to watch amazing women enjoy this new role in the simple matters of tutus and giggles and very first butt scoots. 

But last night it was sickness and messy and fear and doubt and the less fun, but so much more real, side of parenthood. 

And she owned it. Not to say that she didn't question panicked first thoughts, or ask her partner his opinions, or rely on others to help her but she took ownership of a very scary situation and didn't let the anxiety keep her from getting things done. 

I am amazed at this level-headedness. When I think about parenting and especially with the first go-round of just not knowing anything, it is completely terrifying.

It was fascinating to see it up close and in the moment. I never doubted this particular friend's capacity for getting things done but to see it, actually see it, was eye opening in a very good way.

I am very grateful for these friends who outpace me in life's obstacle course.  The ones who show me what it actually is, instead of just what it looks like. And now I get to take a moment to wonder if I have the trust in my own abilities and the same pragmatism during crisis.

Being a grown-up is weird, y'all.

Work friends

Since moving to Chicago, I have had only had two opportunities to make work friends. The first was people who I would have made friends with already because we all improvised together, it was just an excuse to get paid to hang out.

This new job (how long does it get to be new? Six months? Twelve? Eighteen?) is awesome because its people who I never would have scampered across who make my life feel more full. I am grateful for their experience, I am grateful for their insight, I am grateful for their willingness to be silly in an environment that does not reward silly as much as it should. 

These are the first set of people who make me realize how fun it is to work in an office where we work hard and then drink hard and then nap hard.

I left many of them to their own devices at a rainy bus stop tonight and I solemnly swear they are up to no good, but I am happy they are mine. 

Fall Madness

It has already started.  A fall unlike any other. One that will leave me so grateful for any free moment I find myself in front of a television on the weekends.

It started with celebrating Wedding #1
now its onto trying to keep the luck of the Irish
then the biggest, scariest, work thing I've ever done
followed by getting our wedding guest on back-to-back Maryland style
with a week-long M'town trip snuck in on the tail end
chased by a trip down to Charlotte to see the incomprable Chellis.
then its Birthday Trip 1 LasVegasHooverDamGrandCanyon
with Birthday Trip 2 SeattleTeenytimeTreeHouse right behind it.
a weekend in Madison with one of my favorite baby Badgers and her delightful parents
time to try on a taste of famous with our third trip to Cali this year, L.A. style
(shhhhh, I have one weekend with no plans, donotjinxthis)
a turkey-time adventure in Orlando
my second big, scary work thing (significantly less big and scary)

Then there are two weeks until Christmas Vacation.

On.your.mark.get.set.go

Wedding Photographer

One of my best friends married his best lady. I got boozy on whiskey and ginger ale and took these gems.

Then I sat on the train this morning and Over-d the ish out of them.
 

 

Happy Wedding, friends! Can't wait to see the actual pictures! 

A little more about Love

My first massive project at my (still-)new job is coming to a head. There are no less than one million things hanging over my head and I spend most of the day with just a hint of anxiety attack looming in my frontal cortex.

So yesterday, when my boss came over to my cube and asked, "how are you feeling?" I think we were all surprised when the answer was,

"I can't believe my friend is getting married on Saturday." 

But there you have it, the emotions that were the deepest set in my subconscious were the ones about Brother (not my brother, but Brother) getting married this weekend.

Having a good, true, real, awesome guy friend in Brother is something I will be grateful for all eternity. And what's astonishing is he never once ditched me through all of the terrible set-ups and nights at the bottom of fishbowls. 

And then, to meet my companion and have them get along just.so.perfectly in their singing of the Monday night football song, and watching of Dr. Who and over-indulgence of straight Captain Morgan and Jagermeister is more than I could have even dreamed of in my most practical, Midwestern dreams. Boyfriend needs someone to see bad movies with, and I am so happy that it isn't me. 

And THEN! To have him find J. And for her to be all the right kinds of awesome and smart and be the missing puzzle piece of person I need in my life. My talk about the New Yorker, go see plays, commiserate about non-profit jobs, celebrate the joys of dating an introvert friend. How does that even happen so perfectly? 

I could not ask for a better wedding to distract me from the impending insanity of my work. I could not ask for two better friends who want nothing more than to sit and eat pizza and enjoy each others' company. I could not ask for a better forever friend from a guy who I met because he randomly came to watch his coworker do crappy improv in a crappy bar. 

I am so happy Brother found J. And then fought through all the scary bullshit of life to take her to a Storytown show one Saturday afternoon. And then despite being surrounded by a bunch of lazy, drunk, commitmentphobes, he lit those special occasion candles and made the right choice. 

Happy Wedding Brother & J. You'll find me at the dessert table. 

A new season

While I did not love this book about friends, it has made me incredibly thoughtful about how I spend my free time. Recently, a mantra has been running through my head:

                                 

For the past few weeks I have jammed my schedule full of people who I don't always get to see. It's the last weeks of summer and patio-seated, margarita-drinking, out-too-late living. We're all about to crawl into our caves and hibernate until Spring, only peeking out for the occasional football game. And I am trying to make the most of it. 

But sometimes it means making choices. It means sometimes saying no to what has always felt like the obvious social invitation and saying yes to the one that requires a little more work.

It always feel better. Every time. It feels better to spend that time with people that matter to you.

I am finding myself being more thoughtful about what I plan, working harder to reach out to people, and grateful that I am surrounded by so many great people who want to be my friends.

Let's just call it a midlife resolution.

Snaps.

So I'm about 8 months late, and 10 years too old for this party but I am currently obsessed with snapchat.

One of my coworkers, who I think of a classy southern girl who knows where the party's at, introduced me at a post-work function. Desperate for her approval and perhaps slightly over served, I signed up and connected with all my friends.

I was surprised by how many people I knew on the site. Then I had a sudden thought, 

"Is everyone sending dick pix without me?"

If they are, that's fine (gross, but fine). But my knowledge of snapchat was it was just the newest, trendiest ways to send pictures of your junk (oh, technology, you're the best). Junk pictures, I thought were reserved for politicians and sixteen year-olds who don't quite understand how the internet works.

Turns out, while this is all probably incredibly accurate - snapchat is also just a straight communication tool and useful for taking pictures of things no one cares about (snap chat- for when instagramming will just take too.long) and the ugliest pictures of your own face imaginable.

Perhaps it's just my tribe, but most snapchats look like this:
 

And include text that could just as easily be provided via text message.

Granted, it is primarily my baby sister (who, at 20, is exactly who snapchat was made for) who communicates like this, but my fraaaaands do it too. 

My question is why? Why do we take pictures of our faces/computer screens/doodles/drinks/sketchy fellow commuters? Is it because they aren't permanent? Ugly faces are okay as long as they are temporary? Or we just don't like to waste the precious memory on our phones? 

My personal problem is I always want to write too much and the thing only allows for like 100 characters. Clearly, my words are worth more than my face.

Book Review: MWF seeking BFF

MWF seeking BFF is a great idea for a book in theory. The struggle to make friends in your late 20's, especially in a new city is fascinating to me. Mostly because as Boyfriend and I ponder a move to Elsewhere, I always get hung up on the fact that it will be twice as hard to make friends and there will probably be half as many people "on the market," for new friendships.

All the things that this book talks about make so much sense. The idea that women have, "face to face," friendships while men have, "side to side," friendships. The theory that you can have just about 150 important people in your life at a time, how women are used to being pursued romantically so it is sometimes hard for us to do the pursuing in a platonic way. 

All this is great and interesting and good and neat and stuff. However, I ordered a book with a narrative. I got a book with half a narrative, a dollop of science, and writing that is best left to the Internet.

If my 30 seconds of Internet sleuthing is correct, this book was a blog. And the more I read it, the more I was sure that is where it should have stayed. Rachel Bertsche's writing is fabulous, for the Internet. As a book, it leaves so much to be desired.

And while my sweet book club ladies zoned out on my diatribe on this subject last night- I can now put it out on the Internet to be ignored:

Occasionally the Internet is the best place for a project. It is truly its own medium that, when used correctly, can knock your socks off. But when things try to make the jump to the page, they seem to only juuuuustbarely make it (this does not go for image-based websites, because a coffee table book is a coffee table book and while the world may not need more of them, my house does, so do the damned thing all you amazing people. 

I did love thinking about friendships on a more philosophical level and am now actively working to better my friendships with my current friends because I recognize how valuable these relationships are to me.

I also appreciated that this gave me the opportunity to recognize that this blog will probably never be more than it is right now. Which is probably for the best.

The babes of summer.

I really, really like babies. Always have. It comes from having lady parts, being the oldest of a whole gaggle of cousins, and general enjoyment found in nurturing and small victories (please note: any one of these qualities individually or all three together do not necessarily make a lover of the babies. I'm just saying it worked out with my particular chromosomal make-up).

Before this year, babies were something that grown-ups had: my aunts, my parents' friends, my very, very old and mature older cousin. The people who were my age who had babies were so far removed from my day to day life that they felt like foreigners that I just observed through the window of facebook.

During my recent sojourn into unemployment I got hooked up with some amazing baby-sitting jobs. Truly, the kids I spent time with were some of the best companions I could have asked for during this very strange and out-of-character time in my life. Not only did they provide moments of humor and pride, they also gave me a peek into what parenthood might be like (obviously, not completely as their parents always, thankfully, came home, but like a tee-tiny peek). For some reason baby-sitting at the age of 28 made parenting seem like a much more real concept (rather than something that people have done when they have given up on their own lives and so need something to occupy their time).

This experience coincided nearly perfectly with the announcement that two of my favorite humans were incubating two of the newest, greatest members of the human race right there inside them. The wait for these babies to incubate has seemed nearly endless, but now, some how, it is ending and within the next week or so these babies will be real humans, rather than just cute-in-theory parasites.

The excitement I am feeling about these two amazing events nearly makes my lungs explode. I cannot wait to be a part of these two new lives that are justabout to start. Both babes have lucked out in the amazeballs parents department but I am on the edge of my seat waiting to be a source of entertainment, love, and poop removal for these two.

This excitement-beyond-excitement has brought the real notion of parenthood into incredibly harsh perspective. With so many parts of adulthood (read: marriage) it has always felt like something that I would probably not be good at, I'm too selfish, too greedy, and lack the patience needed to read "Elmo's Big Day," four hundred times in an afternoon.

Now, I know that I could do this. I could be a parent, but the question is - do I want to? Do I want to be responsible for a real, actual human being? Would I set way to high of standards for her as person and me as a Mother? Do I want to give up a life of fancy restaurants and frolicking about the country like IDGAF?

I honestly do not know. But its something on my mind, Internet. And in this breath before the most-exciting-adventure thus-far in adulthood comes before me, I get to take a moment and be so thankful that I know two great women who are going to jump in both-feet-in-the-deep-end and tell me how the water is, before I have to make any choices.

To being a loving by-stander and hander-of-burp-clothes in this next adventure of life!

TYOE: St. Louis

One of the sweetest humans I know married another keeper, and now has gone and gotten herself pregnant (actually BOTH couples mentioned in that blog have managed to get themselves knocked up which is kind of spooky, but awesome. Awesomespooky).

To celebrate KChu (who should now go by her married nickname, KHow) bringing a new awesome human into the world (and the end of girlie time as we have all known it thus far), we decided a trip out of town was in order.

I steamrolled everyone's twee suggestions about wine country and lake houses and demanded that we all go to St. Louis, because I have been dying to go to the City Museum for YEARS and I could not think of a better group of people to drag along for the party.

My sweet potluck group is the best. Every month (or so) we get together, make yummy food, and talk about our ever-evolving-ever-changing-ever-new-sometimes-scary lives. There tends to be lots of wine involved.

But we put the pots and pans away and went to the Lou for a quick girls weekend.

KHow and I took the Amtrak down to St. Louis from Chicago. What a dignified way to travel. I will truly believe that America is the greatest country when we get our collective shit together and build a high-speed railway. And then I will never get on a plane again.

The train dumped us and it was a quick walk to Lafayette Park and our amazing mansion-home for the weekend. KHow found this gorgeous house on vbro.com. This was my first time staying in a vbro-type situation and it.was.AWESOME. This house was stunning. Girls never get tired of playing pretend in a dream home, no matter how old they get.

The house was so great, we spent the first day just sitting and enjoying it. Doing work, eating snacks, occasionally going up and down staircases, just because.

Finally our diet of jelly beans and clementines was no longer sufficient and we hoped over to SqWires for dinner. We managed to get seats at the bar (which was great, because the place was packed) and ate a quick dinner. The food wasn't spectacular, but it was delicious and totally hit the spot.

The rest of our companions arrived late that night while we were dozing in the media room (as you do).

The next morning we made ourselves breakfast (you know a kitchen is spacious when seven girls can be futzing around and it doesn't feel crowded) with some help from Park Avenue Coffee and their good coffee and indescribable gooey butter cake before heading out for adventures.

After a few wrong turns and an excellent photo-op by an enormous tire, we made it to a two mile wall of graffiti (if you are looking for the legal two mile graffiti wall in St. Louis  - the best place to access it is at the intersection of S. Wharf St. and Chouteau Ave).

Then it was just a quick walk along the lovely industrial waterfront to the Gateway Arch.

Arch park is gorgeous. If being-up-high isn't your thing, then there is no need to go up inside the Arch. There is plenty to do and see on the ground. As with going up in any tall structure. It's entertaining for about six minutes. You take some pictures, comment on the view aaaand its time to come down. I thought it was worth the
$10, but I am sure there are those who would disagree.

All the best photo ops are on the ground anyway.

With a quick stop for a late lunch, we then (FINALLY) made it to the City Museum just at 5 PM (when the price drops from $12, to $10 - Score! And the place is open until midnight! Double score!). We had strategically planned to come later in the day in the hopes that perhaps there would be fewer children underfoot. Since we weren't there mid-day it was impossible to compare but there were still children evvverywhere. I get it, its a very kid friendly place (and on a kindofwarm early March Saturday, there aren't a ton of options for the kiddos) but, I would have been willing to pay $20 if we could have gotten some sort of adult swim type deal.

Even with the littles running around, we still had an amazing time. Not since my days spent traipsing about the original Children's Museum in Washington DC have I ever had this much fun within a museum's walls. There was very little learning, it was just more go! do! see! climb! crawl! slide! go more!

When you visit:

Play outside! You must trust that all the pieces will stay together and that you can climb out on that airplane wing and through that crazy tunnel. You can. And you absolutely should.

Make art! You'll be tired after the outside adventures. So paint. Get your portrait drawn. Make snowflakes. Create things.

Go down the slides!
There are two that cannot be missed. The monster slide - which is right near the ticket booth and is bright and colorful. And the 10-story-slide which is a little more tucked away. The entrance to it is on the first floor back by the caves. It is a surreal experience to slide down 10 stories (and one that will leave you dizzy and disoriented for a minute) but one you should have in your memory box.

Forget the Rules (or try to)! I've become a big fan of rules in recent years. But the thing about the City Museum is there are no rules. or maps. or instructions. You just go. Sometimes this can get terrifying (mostly when oblivious kids are blocking your path and you can't move) but it should be considered liberating to not worry so much about being right all the time.

After a few hours of go! do! see! all of us old farts were exhausted. We veto-ed a Washington St. dinner in favor of heading back to Lafayette Park (mostly because we wanted our walk home at the very end of the night to be as short as possible.

We made it to Square One Brewery for a yummy dinner (and even yummier drinks) before a quick trot home and a night of cupcakes, laughing and falling asleep midconversation.

We all slept late on Sunday and then stumbled back to SqWires for brunch (where there was a man playing piano! and a fireplace! the love is in the details, people) before heading back to Chicago.

I know there is more of St. Louis to see, but for the amount of time we had, it was nearly a perfect trip. We managed to get everywhere on foot! The sun shone down. We slept and ate well - there's really not much more you can ask for in a weekend getaway.

Fruit. Cake.

Sometimes, when you're unemployed, you think up some brilliantly stupid ideas.

At Becky's birthday potluck, I put myself in charge of dessert. With one of our good friends up the spout and craving fruity goodness non-stop, I thought I shouldn't just make a fruit salad, I should make fruit art.

Some notes if you want to make your own fruit art:

Use the biggest cookie sheet you have. Letters take up way more room than you think. I used one that was 19" across - it might have made more sense to use a standard rectangular one, but it wasn't as aesthetically pleasing as the round one. Dumb, but pretty (just like me).

Use the smallest fruit you're working with to craft the letters - blueberries were so much easier to manipulate than the pineapple or the grapes. On a lighter colored cookie sheet/platter they would have stood out stunningly.

Blackberries/raspberries are a waste of time for anything except decoration, they fall apart too easily and are too hard to manipulate.

Cut stuff to make it work for you. I'm not sure why I insisted for most of the process to use fruit as it naturally appears, but once I started cutting grapes in half and quarters they filled the spaces exactly how I wanted them to and didn't roll around which made things so much easier.

Be patient. Its a frustrating process the first time you do it. Guess and check. Next time I want to use cantaloupe and other melons cubed as the borders around the letters. And I'll probably take a better picture before my friends destroyed it in the name of being hungry.

Cup of Change

Sometimes, nowadays, this is what Sunday Funday looks like.

With six friends, and a bucket of catching up to do. It's a nice change of pace.

Undutch

I've decided to take the month of January to come up with my resolutions for the new year. Honestly, my resolution should be to get a job and becoming a functioning member of society again, but I've kind of lost interest in all that what with all the free time I have now. Jobs are for suckers.

Anyway, resolution number one is pretty simple. Anytime someone offers to buy me food or booze or pretty much anything and I have no reason to believe that this offer comes with some sort of ulterior motive, I'm going to take it. You say that dinner is your treat? Cool. This rounds on you? Sweet. An ipad? Awesome.

Now that I'm basically a hobo with an ideal living situation, I'm fresh out of cash and I'm also fresh out of nonsense. Over the past few weeks, some of my most-favorites have been sweet and kind enough to buy me delicious things. I've protested and then finally relented every time and now I'm wondering why.

Why do we go through this who act of, "Oh this is on me" "What, no, you're crazy." "Your money is no good here, you old broad." "Oh, you crazy coot. You're a nut, you hear me." (apparently all conversations when replayed in my head sound like the old west as seen in Back to the Future part III).

Its a weird game that when extrapolated out is so much of what is wrong with society. Why is everything so fake? Why do we have to fight nice gestures? And when I say we - I mostly mean me, because I am the worst at this, just ask my well meaning but often downtrodden boyfriend who can't even buy me Christmas presents with out me getting real, real emotional about it.

Anyway. This is the first step. In 2013, if someone wants to buy me dinner and its not going to end up with them making a Lifetime Movie about me. I'm down. So bring it on. Mamma's hungry.

I wanna dance.

I am having booze problems these days. I assume it has something to do with being older (and therefore lamer). The last few times I've been trying to get all cray-cray, I've just gotten really miserable and sick and its been the worst.

Last night was my chance to redeem myself at the annual Andersonville Bar Crawl. Its the best party of the year. It deserves a yelp review its so good. I didn't want to puss out before the big finale dance party. I kept reminding myself to pace myself and listen to myself and drink water...myself.

It was strange, to be listening to my body rather than just trusting that its been down this bumpy road before and knows how to come out on top.

At bar one, it was time for a Little Sumpin' Sumpin' (no more Miller Lite over here folks, we're grown-ups), I drank. I kissed and hug all the friends, who if I don't see them once a week, it feels like I haven't seen them in foreeeeever. I saw people from the past. Stories were told. More beer please. I asked my friend to explain to me what his rap lyric, "Louie on my booty" meant (answer: he doesn't really know). More Beer. I'll show you a little sumpin, sumpin.

By bar two, those beers had kicked. in. So. I did what I was supposed to do. I drank water. I still felt a little sick. I drank more water. I ate pizza. I felt sick. I cursed the gods who made getting older a thing. Talked about feelings. More water. Maybe its the water making me drunk. Sick. Pizza. Pizza. Water.

At the third bar of the night, I felt ready to drink again. I ordered prosecco. Dumb choice? Maybe, but it came in this adorable little quarter bottle. I like small versions of big things.

Drink Prosecco. Wish aloud that I could get some orange juice up in this piece. Little bottle! Wax poetic on all things East Coast (typical). Prosecco. Mmm. Bubbles. Bravery followed by immediate cowardice. Declaration that my friend Laura's nickname was los tostadas. Clapping and demanding attention.

I knew that the clapping meant we were in trouble, so at the final bar (the dance party) it was water. Water. Whitney Houston. My favorite girls. a troublesome strapless shirt. This being my jam. Water. Not quite enough air in the room. Fog. Miley Cyrus. Water. Dancing in a circle. Knowing all the words. Being a little embarrassed  Not giving a fuuuuu. Carly Rae. Water. Stage time. More water. Spilling the water everywhere. Giving up on water. Dance party. Dance party. Dance Party. Whoops, its only couples left? Peace out.

This morning I woke up to no voice and a sizable hangover for what amounted to four drinks in seven hours. This from a girl who used to drink Miller Lite by the gallon and then take a fifteen minute nap before working for seven hours. Its a strange adjustment to be making - this whole not drinking until it comes out my pores - but a good one I am sure. Anything to make sure the dance party doesn't stop.

Thankful.

For cookies.

And sweet neighbors.

And for still getting to play pretend sometimes.

the wonder friends

Today has kind of been the BIGGEST day for many, many reasons.

This blog is only going to talk about two of them.

Specifically these two.

They aren't friends anymore. But in honor of the fact that they are both 30! YEARS! OLD! on this Monday, they get a joint post. Sorry ladies, its Monday night, and I am drunk on red wine and tuna melts, I only have one blog post in me.

Once upon a time, I was 19 and I had no idea what was going on. I grew up in a small town where everyone knew who I had been since the age of 6. I couldn't shake off 3rd grade memories no matter how hard I tried to redefine myself. And then I moved to New York, where I could have redefined myself if anyone had given a shit. Which, surprise, surprise, no one really did.

And then! I got to move to a small little cesspool of insanity (known as summer stock theater) where no one knew my business, and I got to be whichever version of myself I wanted to be. I managed to spin the wheel and land on a version of myself that seemed to attract some really great people.

And thus began, 8 years ago, the silliest summer of my life. I try not to dwell too long on the past, but the summer of 2004 will always be ingrained as the best, worst summer of all time. As I reminisced about it today:

"...we made some really astoundingly bad choices. And we only ever had enough money for booze. And we kissed boys who made us cry. And we had the literal definition of dead-end jobs. And we ate week-old crabs. And yet we were still the happiest of girls..."

And these two amazing women, who have pretty much knocked life out of the ball park in the past 8 years in their own ways, were the two people who bought my new personality, hook, line and sinker and wanted to keep me around - even after the dream summer ended, and I went back to my real life, 15 pounds heavier and so much more aware of the kind of person I wanted to be as a twenty-something.

These girls taught me that its acceptable to do things just for the story. To write it all down. To get your heart temporarily broken for a night of fun. To play the "let me tell you about yourself" game. They taught me that people will love you even when you pour candle wax on their chests. And almost drive their cars into a clothes line. That its okay to be made fun of when you deserve it. And its okay to cry when it all gets to be too much.

When I first met these two girls, they were fresh-faced college graduates and I idolized them. I could not believe that these two people who seemed so much cooler and more grown-up than me wanted to be my friend. And even though I have never had an iota of true self-confidence, they made me feel like I was an awesome, hilarious person. They are both also awesome and hilarious.

So thank you. Thank you for 8 amazing years of self-discovery and debauchery.  Happy 30th Birthday!

Messed up

When I think people might be coming over to my apartment, and it is a disaster - here is the order in which I clean things (...I discovered tonight):

Kitchen
Laundry Room
Clothes Closet
Linen Closet
My Bedroom*
My Bathroom*
Living Room
Office
Guest Bathroom
Dining Room

...Either I have some super strange friends, or I have some super strange assumptions about what my friends are going to be interested in seeing. Or perhaps it is that I have some bizarre insecurity about what my friends are going to judge me on. Do they care that my dryer sheets are on top of the dryer, rather than the shelf. Erm...probably not as much as they would care that there isn't any toilet paper in the bathroom. Although, with my friends, that could potentially go either way.

I am discovering this new apartment has a great deal more places in it than my last few. Which is cool because I never have to feel obligated to throw anything away ever again, but I can foresee becoming overwhelming when I don't have anyone come over for a few months or so and then someone does come over and its like a 3 day process to get it looking acceptable.

But seriously, we love this new apartment. It feels more like home than anywhere we've lived together. It came with bright colors on the walls that we liked, so we didn't have to live in a taupe nightmare or resent any rooms for making us stay up until 4 in the morning painting. It fits all our things quite nicely without the real need to buy any new stuff.

I should take pictures of it and place them on the internet, but I am going to wait a few days - as it sinks back into its normal state of filth, because this is a blog - not a real estate listing.

*I am not saying this to be a dick, but I hate the term master bed/bath and I needed to distinguish the fact that I cleaned the least accessible bathroom before the one people will use.