My girl Katie over at Charming City Style has done it again and put together some looks for me for a wedding I'm attending next month with my handsome Gentleman Friend. I love the way she pulls things together and I'm excited to dig around in my closet (and at the outlets this weekend for Columbus Day sales) and see what I can come up with. Also, she's fabulous and has great ideas, so you should check her out anyway.
Showing posts with label weddings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weddings. Show all posts
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Monday, September 5, 2011
C'est le Prix
(Happy, Ramzi? French articles are, surprisingly, not in my vast collection of talents.)
I don't even really like cars.
Or maybe I do.
I've always preferred manuals, and though my car now is an automatic, I'm endlessly thrilled that it also has the sport shift option. I use it mostly in traffic when I'm angry, or to merge onto highways. I have a teensy little control issue, and a manual shift is clutch. (See what I did there?)
The Grand Prix caused Baltimore residents a pretty headache in the year or so it took to create. Major roads blocked off for repaving caused agonizing gridlock. And let's not even talk about GRIDACALYPSE THURSDAY last week when pre-race road closures caused the worst traffic Baltimore city has ever seen. I left work two hours early and drove home on the verrrrry west side of the city...to Catonsville. And then snuck up 95 to come into Federal Hill the back way. A good thirty miles out of my way just to avoid downtown.
And cabs anywhere this weekend? Forget about it. I think I walked a total of ten miles to get to various places in the city.
But, I'll admit - along with the rest of the race-goers - it was pretty fantastic.
I made it down on Friday, and was glad I did. Friday was general admission to all areas of the race, which meant that I could go and sit with all the rich people in the VIP areas to watch the practice races. Disappointingly, there was only one crash that day, and I didn't even see it.
(WHAT?!
COME ON. I go to hockey games to watch the fights, and car races to see the crashes! I AM A SENSATIONALIST. I make no excuses.)
There were some pretty sick crashes on other days (thanks, YouTube). And the best part? You could enter and exit various points of the race with open containers. It was as though all of downtown Baltimore were some giant stadium. I am a huge fan of Events With Beer, and therefore I was a huge fan of the Grand Prix.
I didn't go near it Saturday or Sunday, however. Saturday, I was lucky enough to escape the mayhem for a beautiful wedding down in Annapolis of one of my college roommates. Sunday, I stayed far away from downtown until early evening and, even then, the carnage of drunkards and tourists was extreme.
Still. Way to pull it off, SRB. You were in the hot seat there for a while, but it seems you done good in the end. And, somehow, Baltimore came off looking sparkling clean in all of that IndyCar footage. The cameras didn't really pan about five blocks in any direction to showcase the rows and rows of empty rowhouses and rampant poverty, but hey, that's not what the world wants to see, right? Grand Prix sure as hell wasn't about poverty. Millions of dollars whirring by at 120 miles per hour is a sharp juxtaposition to homelessness.
I'm going off on a tangent here, so I'll pull the focus back to this: I want to ride in a race car. The noise, the speed, the flying-low-to-the-ground...I might need to add this to the bucket list. I always thought I wanted to drive a really expensive car (don't ask me for details, because I have none regarding automobiles) on the Autobahn. But maybe this race car ride might push that one down a few on the bucket list.
Anyhoodle. Labor Day, summer is drawing to a close, but I am packing my suitcase and getting ready to head off to Key West on Thursday for the first real vacation of the year. Because I don't count Vegas as a restful, restorative vacation.
Cheers!
I don't even really like cars.
Or maybe I do.
I've always preferred manuals, and though my car now is an automatic, I'm endlessly thrilled that it also has the sport shift option. I use it mostly in traffic when I'm angry, or to merge onto highways. I have a teensy little control issue, and a manual shift is clutch. (See what I did there?)
The Grand Prix caused Baltimore residents a pretty headache in the year or so it took to create. Major roads blocked off for repaving caused agonizing gridlock. And let's not even talk about GRIDACALYPSE THURSDAY last week when pre-race road closures caused the worst traffic Baltimore city has ever seen. I left work two hours early and drove home on the verrrrry west side of the city...to Catonsville. And then snuck up 95 to come into Federal Hill the back way. A good thirty miles out of my way just to avoid downtown.
And cabs anywhere this weekend? Forget about it. I think I walked a total of ten miles to get to various places in the city.
But, I'll admit - along with the rest of the race-goers - it was pretty fantastic.
I made it down on Friday, and was glad I did. Friday was general admission to all areas of the race, which meant that I could go and sit with all the rich people in the VIP areas to watch the practice races. Disappointingly, there was only one crash that day, and I didn't even see it.
(WHAT?!
COME ON. I go to hockey games to watch the fights, and car races to see the crashes! I AM A SENSATIONALIST. I make no excuses.)
There were some pretty sick crashes on other days (thanks, YouTube). And the best part? You could enter and exit various points of the race with open containers. It was as though all of downtown Baltimore were some giant stadium. I am a huge fan of Events With Beer, and therefore I was a huge fan of the Grand Prix.
I didn't go near it Saturday or Sunday, however. Saturday, I was lucky enough to escape the mayhem for a beautiful wedding down in Annapolis of one of my college roommates. Sunday, I stayed far away from downtown until early evening and, even then, the carnage of drunkards and tourists was extreme.
Still. Way to pull it off, SRB. You were in the hot seat there for a while, but it seems you done good in the end. And, somehow, Baltimore came off looking sparkling clean in all of that IndyCar footage. The cameras didn't really pan about five blocks in any direction to showcase the rows and rows of empty rowhouses and rampant poverty, but hey, that's not what the world wants to see, right? Grand Prix sure as hell wasn't about poverty. Millions of dollars whirring by at 120 miles per hour is a sharp juxtaposition to homelessness.
I'm going off on a tangent here, so I'll pull the focus back to this: I want to ride in a race car. The noise, the speed, the flying-low-to-the-ground...I might need to add this to the bucket list. I always thought I wanted to drive a really expensive car (don't ask me for details, because I have none regarding automobiles) on the Autobahn. But maybe this race car ride might push that one down a few on the bucket list.
Anyhoodle. Labor Day, summer is drawing to a close, but I am packing my suitcase and getting ready to head off to Key West on Thursday for the first real vacation of the year. Because I don't count Vegas as a restful, restorative vacation.
Cheers!
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Snap's Murried
So, Snap is all married to Sweet-T. No one objected, no one fainted, and everyone showed up on time. Win.
Truly, though, it was a LOT of fun, as you'd expect any wedding with Snap to be. We were fortunate enough to rent a beautiful house with a bunch of like-minded party people ("In the time we've been standing here chatting, you could have had two beers," was one of the first introductions to the weekend). This is crucial for Wedding Fun- locating and sticking with the partiers. Now, in instances past, I myself have been said Designated Party Girl. But given that I was a bridesmaid, I felt the need to be on somewhat good behavior. This doesn't mean alienation from the partiers, however; it means alignment, stealth, and multitasking. Bridesmaidly duties come first, but if you do it right (and I've had some practice), partying can quite easily come in tandem.
Every bride is beautiful, let's face it, but I'm not exaggerating when I say that Snap was breathtaking. I don't know how it's possible to look sexy in a wedding dress (aren't brides usually described as demure? Blushing? Beautiful?) but damn if Snap didn't WEAR that DRESS, if you know what I mean. Pippa Middleton had nothing on this.
At one point over the weekend, someone asked me if I'd ever thought Snap would get married first. I responded that I had never really thought about who might get married first; only that from very early on in Snap and Sweet-T's relationship, I knew they were going to get married. Sometimes you just know. And with them, I just knew. I think everyone did.
I think the only part of the whole weekend that actually saddened me was the knowledge that it would fly by, and Snap and Sweet-T would be back on a plane to San Francisco. And then maybe I'll can catch them at Christmas next year. The one part of the whole deal that chokes me up is that Snap had to move 3,000 miles away.
I guess I need to plan a trip to San Fran.
Also "murried off" last weekend was Catalano. It was heartbreaking that I couldn't go to her wedding, but, well, Snap got the request out prior. How it's possible that I had two such good friends from different circles get married on the same day in 2011 is beyond me. Oh, well. At least I got to go to Vegas for Catalano's bachelorette.
Wedding fun is over for now, work is back in full swing, and it's running, running, running in anticipation for the Survivor 7-miler in June.
Oh, and Lee is turning THIRTY next week. Let us not forget this crucial and important fact. OLD. In a couple of weeks, I will be a mere babe at 29, but Lee will be THIRTY. OLD.
Summer's on it's way....
Truly, though, it was a LOT of fun, as you'd expect any wedding with Snap to be. We were fortunate enough to rent a beautiful house with a bunch of like-minded party people ("In the time we've been standing here chatting, you could have had two beers," was one of the first introductions to the weekend). This is crucial for Wedding Fun- locating and sticking with the partiers. Now, in instances past, I myself have been said Designated Party Girl. But given that I was a bridesmaid, I felt the need to be on somewhat good behavior. This doesn't mean alienation from the partiers, however; it means alignment, stealth, and multitasking. Bridesmaidly duties come first, but if you do it right (and I've had some practice), partying can quite easily come in tandem.
Every bride is beautiful, let's face it, but I'm not exaggerating when I say that Snap was breathtaking. I don't know how it's possible to look sexy in a wedding dress (aren't brides usually described as demure? Blushing? Beautiful?) but damn if Snap didn't WEAR that DRESS, if you know what I mean. Pippa Middleton had nothing on this.
At one point over the weekend, someone asked me if I'd ever thought Snap would get married first. I responded that I had never really thought about who might get married first; only that from very early on in Snap and Sweet-T's relationship, I knew they were going to get married. Sometimes you just know. And with them, I just knew. I think everyone did.
I think the only part of the whole weekend that actually saddened me was the knowledge that it would fly by, and Snap and Sweet-T would be back on a plane to San Francisco. And then maybe I'll can catch them at Christmas next year. The one part of the whole deal that chokes me up is that Snap had to move 3,000 miles away.
I guess I need to plan a trip to San Fran.
Also "murried off" last weekend was Catalano. It was heartbreaking that I couldn't go to her wedding, but, well, Snap got the request out prior. How it's possible that I had two such good friends from different circles get married on the same day in 2011 is beyond me. Oh, well. At least I got to go to Vegas for Catalano's bachelorette.
Wedding fun is over for now, work is back in full swing, and it's running, running, running in anticipation for the Survivor 7-miler in June.
Oh, and Lee is turning THIRTY next week. Let us not forget this crucial and important fact. OLD. In a couple of weeks, I will be a mere babe at 29, but Lee will be THIRTY. OLD.
Summer's on it's way....
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Weddings, Brew Fests, Cool Runnings, Et Al
Oh, man.
So, been super busy (as always...not really anything new there) but also working in preparations for Snap's wedding this coming weekend. I've got the dress, the shoes, the awesome date, and am fine-tuning the toast. I don't want to give too much away, but suffice it to say that I tried to incorporate a spectrum of emotion that includes Supreme Humiliation. Ok, maybe not humiliation, per say. A touch of humor, maybe. At Snap's expense. Har.
So I went on a long run on Saturday (working towards the Survivor 7 on June 12), and was running peacefully along in some sort of Zenned-out state when I realized that there were throngs of people lining the sidewalks. So I shifted over and ran in the street. Curiously, no cars. Excellent running conditions, however, and the street was even conveniently mapped out with lines of orange cones. Then I realized people were cheering. Just as I was congratulating myself on such good form, I glanced over my shoulder to see Fifi gliding along behind me. Apparently, I had found my running trail along AVAM's annual Kinetic Sculpture race route.
Slightly embarrassing, especially because there wasn't any place for me to turn off, so I just went with it for probably another quarter mile.
So if any of you witnessed the early part of the route and saw some ass running while everyone else was biking, it was me. Oops.
Also worthy of note here was that City Paper's Annual Brew Fest was a couple of weekends ago. As always, it fell on the most gorgeous spring day. I don't know how they do it every year, but it always seems that the weather is in gross extremes leading up to this event. 90 degrees with 100% humidity one day, 45 degrees and raining the next. And then CPABF comes along, and it's 75 degrees, sunny, no humidity. Just perfect.
I'm digging beer right now. Among my favorites:
Boulder's Kind Blue, blueberry wheat
Allagash White Ale
Hitachino Nest, white ale (harder to find, given present export situation)
Dogfish Head Midas Touch, ancient Turkish fermentation recipe (ridiculously hard to find, and ringing in at a whopping $14 per 4-pack in some cases)
So, spring is in full effect. Which means running outside, beer consumption, weddings, and soon- KAYAKING!
Hooray, spring!
Oh, and somewhere in there I'm gonna turn 29. Awesome.
So, been super busy (as always...not really anything new there) but also working in preparations for Snap's wedding this coming weekend. I've got the dress, the shoes, the awesome date, and am fine-tuning the toast. I don't want to give too much away, but suffice it to say that I tried to incorporate a spectrum of emotion that includes Supreme Humiliation. Ok, maybe not humiliation, per say. A touch of humor, maybe. At Snap's expense. Har.
So I went on a long run on Saturday (working towards the Survivor 7 on June 12), and was running peacefully along in some sort of Zenned-out state when I realized that there were throngs of people lining the sidewalks. So I shifted over and ran in the street. Curiously, no cars. Excellent running conditions, however, and the street was even conveniently mapped out with lines of orange cones. Then I realized people were cheering. Just as I was congratulating myself on such good form, I glanced over my shoulder to see Fifi gliding along behind me. Apparently, I had found my running trail along AVAM's annual Kinetic Sculpture race route.
Slightly embarrassing, especially because there wasn't any place for me to turn off, so I just went with it for probably another quarter mile.
So if any of you witnessed the early part of the route and saw some ass running while everyone else was biking, it was me. Oops.
Also worthy of note here was that City Paper's Annual Brew Fest was a couple of weekends ago. As always, it fell on the most gorgeous spring day. I don't know how they do it every year, but it always seems that the weather is in gross extremes leading up to this event. 90 degrees with 100% humidity one day, 45 degrees and raining the next. And then CPABF comes along, and it's 75 degrees, sunny, no humidity. Just perfect.
I'm digging beer right now. Among my favorites:
Boulder's Kind Blue, blueberry wheat
Allagash White Ale
Hitachino Nest, white ale (harder to find, given present export situation)
Dogfish Head Midas Touch, ancient Turkish fermentation recipe (ridiculously hard to find, and ringing in at a whopping $14 per 4-pack in some cases)
So, spring is in full effect. Which means running outside, beer consumption, weddings, and soon- KAYAKING!
Hooray, spring!
Oh, and somewhere in there I'm gonna turn 29. Awesome.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Royalty
After a hasty run the other night, made hastier by the impending storm (because nothing downs your mins-per-mile like a column of cumulus coming at you), I realized that it's true- spring is here. Mostly. After a long, awkward segue of schizophrenic weather patterns with a light sprinkling of devastation around the country.
I did not get up at 5am to watch the royal wedding, but believe you me I have YouTube'd and CNN'd and Google'd my way through the highlights. The dress, the walk up the aisle, the waves, the balcony kisses...it's hard not to get caught up in something so downright timeless. I'm a bit of a known Brit-o-phile anyway (mmmm, Cadbury's and Jaffa Cakes....) but even people who normally wouldn't give a toss (see what I did there?) about such things seemed tuned into this event.
Say what you will about the monarchy, the ridiculousness, the nepotism, the strict adherence to tradition...there's more than a little element of relatable romance to Kate and Will. For starters, I don't think many royal couples met as hard-partying flatmates. They broke up for awhile, but still went to events together, and then got back together. She's cute, he's the prince my generation grew up with. The public dissolution of his parents marriage was a fairy tale gone wrong. His mother's untimely death was one of the great significant news stories of our youth (along with the Challenger, OJ Simpson, and the Gulf War). We want happiness for this guy. We want to cut him a bit of a break. And, all media showiness aside, Kate and Will seem to have struck a balance of romance and friendship that's enviable for anyone, especially a royal pairing.
For those of us who weren't born when Di walked the aisle, this is the royal wedding we all tuned in to see. And a beautiful wedding it was.
Side note: I really want to party with Prince Harry. Does he not seem like a bit of a badass joker? I'll bet he can shotgun a beer.
Anyhoodle.
So, spring is here, William is wed, I've nearly made it through Working All Of The Days, and the City Paper Brew Fest is tomorrow. Huzzah.
I did not get up at 5am to watch the royal wedding, but believe you me I have YouTube'd and CNN'd and Google'd my way through the highlights. The dress, the walk up the aisle, the waves, the balcony kisses...it's hard not to get caught up in something so downright timeless. I'm a bit of a known Brit-o-phile anyway (mmmm, Cadbury's and Jaffa Cakes....) but even people who normally wouldn't give a toss (see what I did there?) about such things seemed tuned into this event.
Say what you will about the monarchy, the ridiculousness, the nepotism, the strict adherence to tradition...there's more than a little element of relatable romance to Kate and Will. For starters, I don't think many royal couples met as hard-partying flatmates. They broke up for awhile, but still went to events together, and then got back together. She's cute, he's the prince my generation grew up with. The public dissolution of his parents marriage was a fairy tale gone wrong. His mother's untimely death was one of the great significant news stories of our youth (along with the Challenger, OJ Simpson, and the Gulf War). We want happiness for this guy. We want to cut him a bit of a break. And, all media showiness aside, Kate and Will seem to have struck a balance of romance and friendship that's enviable for anyone, especially a royal pairing.
For those of us who weren't born when Di walked the aisle, this is the royal wedding we all tuned in to see. And a beautiful wedding it was.
Side note: I really want to party with Prince Harry. Does he not seem like a bit of a badass joker? I'll bet he can shotgun a beer.
Anyhoodle.
So, spring is here, William is wed, I've nearly made it through Working All Of The Days, and the City Paper Brew Fest is tomorrow. Huzzah.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Shake the Glitter Off Your Clothes
(Insert random photo here.)As soon as I get all of the casino chips out of my suitcase, find my liver (which I'm pretty sure I might have left floating in the jacuzzi), and get more than five hours of sleep, I shall post (some) of the ridiculousness. A quick perusal of my Twitter feed should tell you all you need to know at this point.
Except for the part where the stripper bit me.
Yes, that happened.
Viva Las Vegas.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
One Week to Vegas
Since 2007, Book Club has been the axis around which my social world has spun.
No, really.
The idea was conceived when I met Catalano. She and I were bridesmaids in Mrs. Spaz's wedding, and met shortly after I'd moved to the city from Florida. I knew very few people outside of a couple of college friends. Catalano had moved back to Maryland from Los Angeles a few months prior and was still single at the time. Shortly after I met her, she began dating her now-fiance.
I'd had a small book club in Tampa that met every few weeks for wine and gelato at an Italian cafe near my house. Catalano was keen on the idea to start our own book club in Baltimore, and volunteered a couple of her college friends and roommates. We started out as a core group of about seven girls. Five of those girls are still active book club members, nearly four years later.
Book Club began as a Tuesday-night affair, every two weeks. But, as the wine and gossip began to flow more heavily, Tuesday nights spilled into Thursday nights, Friday nights, Saturday nights. A couple of girls dropped out and, seeking new members, we placed a cheeky ad on Craigslist. Jaunt, who had recently moved to Baltimore from Pennsylvania, found said ad. She agreed to meet us, and we came up with an exit strategy should she turn out to be creepy. After all, who the hell answers an ad for a boozy Book Club on Craigslist? We were certain Jaunt would turn out to be a strapping bachelor in his mid-5o's with a delightful comb-over and a pocketful of double-entendres and invitations to his "beach house."
"If s/he's creepy," we agreed, "Book Club ends in thirty minutes, we all ditch him/her, and join up at the bar down the street."
Instead, we got Jaunt. Who is now, happily, my new roommate.
We picked up other girls as well. Some stalked Book Club through my blog, some came on as referrals from other members, and some (like Joel) simply happened to see a bunch of girls being loud and obnoxious on a Tuesday night in a wine bar and arguing over modern feminism and decided he must be a part of the action. (Joel is still the brave, sole male in Book Club. Whenever we go out to dinner, it's Joel and eight girls. I think he's quite proud of this fact.)
As Book Club became less "club" and more "urban family unit," we tossed around the idea of going on vacation, unofficially as a group. We've done weekends in Ocean City, but a few years back someone dropped the idea of Vegas and it's sort of floated around in our miasma for awhile.
And then Catalano got engaged.
Two words: Bachelorette. Party.
Hence, Book Club Goes to Vegas. While not an officially sanctioned vacation, and sadly not everyone was able to go, it's still the culmination of years of friendship here in Baltimore. I've done just about everything with these girls; from running errands to meeting past and current boyfriend(s), or Friday night dance parties at the gay club to weekends at the beach. Moving to the city was a lonely, difficult, startling experience. Finding this group of friends changed everything for me and, I think, for most of them as well.
In preparation for Vegas, emails have been flying. And, as is only appropriate, a list of Rules is being drafted bit by bit. So far, the following have been established:
1. I am not to let Mrs. Spaz out of my sight, as per Mr. Spaz's orders. This is the blind leading the blind as Mrs. Spaz and I have been known to rile one another up into tailspins of terrible behavior.
2. Catalano and I are not to let Legs fall down or lose her purse. This will be a full time job.
3. No hookers. Dead or alive. (I argued mightily against this one. How fun would it be to pool our cash, hire a hooker, have her come to our room and tell us her life story and/or secrets of the Vegas underground while we drink champagne and compliment her on her Lucite heels? I was overruled. Lame.)
4. No tigers. Dead or alive.
5. If your fellow teammate is passed out, apply sun screen for her. She'll thank you later.
Other rules to be drafted, voted upon, and established upon arrival.
I can't wait.
No, really.
The idea was conceived when I met Catalano. She and I were bridesmaids in Mrs. Spaz's wedding, and met shortly after I'd moved to the city from Florida. I knew very few people outside of a couple of college friends. Catalano had moved back to Maryland from Los Angeles a few months prior and was still single at the time. Shortly after I met her, she began dating her now-fiance.
I'd had a small book club in Tampa that met every few weeks for wine and gelato at an Italian cafe near my house. Catalano was keen on the idea to start our own book club in Baltimore, and volunteered a couple of her college friends and roommates. We started out as a core group of about seven girls. Five of those girls are still active book club members, nearly four years later.
Book Club began as a Tuesday-night affair, every two weeks. But, as the wine and gossip began to flow more heavily, Tuesday nights spilled into Thursday nights, Friday nights, Saturday nights. A couple of girls dropped out and, seeking new members, we placed a cheeky ad on Craigslist. Jaunt, who had recently moved to Baltimore from Pennsylvania, found said ad. She agreed to meet us, and we came up with an exit strategy should she turn out to be creepy. After all, who the hell answers an ad for a boozy Book Club on Craigslist? We were certain Jaunt would turn out to be a strapping bachelor in his mid-5o's with a delightful comb-over and a pocketful of double-entendres and invitations to his "beach house."
"If s/he's creepy," we agreed, "Book Club ends in thirty minutes, we all ditch him/her, and join up at the bar down the street."
Instead, we got Jaunt. Who is now, happily, my new roommate.
We picked up other girls as well. Some stalked Book Club through my blog, some came on as referrals from other members, and some (like Joel) simply happened to see a bunch of girls being loud and obnoxious on a Tuesday night in a wine bar and arguing over modern feminism and decided he must be a part of the action. (Joel is still the brave, sole male in Book Club. Whenever we go out to dinner, it's Joel and eight girls. I think he's quite proud of this fact.)
As Book Club became less "club" and more "urban family unit," we tossed around the idea of going on vacation, unofficially as a group. We've done weekends in Ocean City, but a few years back someone dropped the idea of Vegas and it's sort of floated around in our miasma for awhile.
And then Catalano got engaged.
Two words: Bachelorette. Party.
Hence, Book Club Goes to Vegas. While not an officially sanctioned vacation, and sadly not everyone was able to go, it's still the culmination of years of friendship here in Baltimore. I've done just about everything with these girls; from running errands to meeting past and current boyfriend(s), or Friday night dance parties at the gay club to weekends at the beach. Moving to the city was a lonely, difficult, startling experience. Finding this group of friends changed everything for me and, I think, for most of them as well.
In preparation for Vegas, emails have been flying. And, as is only appropriate, a list of Rules is being drafted bit by bit. So far, the following have been established:
1. I am not to let Mrs. Spaz out of my sight, as per Mr. Spaz's orders. This is the blind leading the blind as Mrs. Spaz and I have been known to rile one another up into tailspins of terrible behavior.
2. Catalano and I are not to let Legs fall down or lose her purse. This will be a full time job.
3. No hookers. Dead or alive. (I argued mightily against this one. How fun would it be to pool our cash, hire a hooker, have her come to our room and tell us her life story and/or secrets of the Vegas underground while we drink champagne and compliment her on her Lucite heels? I was overruled. Lame.)
4. No tigers. Dead or alive.
5. If your fellow teammate is passed out, apply sun screen for her. She'll thank you later.
Other rules to be drafted, voted upon, and established upon arrival.
I can't wait.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Because...Whatever....Um...Yeah.
When she moved to San Francisco, Snap gifted me many things.
Among them, her collected library of photography from grad school which approximates somewhere around five thousand prints. I'm sure all those lovely friends who helped me move a few weeks ago were thrilled to see all the boxes of Snap's Lebenswerk amongst my neverending possessions.
Also in this treasure trove, however, and entrusted to me are her middle and high school diaries.
Snap has asked me to give a toast at her wedding.
The potential here is just staggering.
In other news: getting settled into luxurious new house with luxurious bathroom all to myself and luxurious stairs (that don't scare the hell out of me with steepness and narrowness) and a luxuriously large kitchen and other luxuries. How luxurious.
In other news: Vegas with Book Club in two weeks.
In other news: 80 degrees tomorrow? Yes please. Although this authenticates the rumors flying about that there will, in fact, be no spring this year. We will transition directly from damp, bitter, 40-degree disgunstingness to direct summer with high humidity and pounding heat. Lies, I had thought, but apparently my opinion was not solicited.
In other news, Pandora has been very good to be lately. Although a friend of mine recently pointed out that NO MATTER WHAT genre/band you have, Pandora will ALWAYS throw in the "Over the Rainbow" cover by Israel "IZ" Kamakawiwoʻole'. It pops up on my Indie Boys station (Kings of Convenience, Andrew Bird, Belle + Sebastian), my Friday-night Katy Perry Station (which apparently Bruno Mars and Far East Movement hijacked), and even snuck its way onto the Christmas station I had running back in December. It's like the Kevin Bacon of covers. It finds its way into everything.
Among them, her collected library of photography from grad school which approximates somewhere around five thousand prints. I'm sure all those lovely friends who helped me move a few weeks ago were thrilled to see all the boxes of Snap's Lebenswerk amongst my neverending possessions.
Also in this treasure trove, however, and entrusted to me are her middle and high school diaries.
Snap has asked me to give a toast at her wedding.
The potential here is just staggering.
In other news: getting settled into luxurious new house with luxurious bathroom all to myself and luxurious stairs (that don't scare the hell out of me with steepness and narrowness) and a luxuriously large kitchen and other luxuries. How luxurious.
In other news: Vegas with Book Club in two weeks.
In other news: 80 degrees tomorrow? Yes please. Although this authenticates the rumors flying about that there will, in fact, be no spring this year. We will transition directly from damp, bitter, 40-degree disgunstingness to direct summer with high humidity and pounding heat. Lies, I had thought, but apparently my opinion was not solicited.
In other news, Pandora has been very good to be lately. Although a friend of mine recently pointed out that NO MATTER WHAT genre/band you have, Pandora will ALWAYS throw in the "Over the Rainbow" cover by Israel "IZ" Kamakawiwoʻole'. It pops up on my Indie Boys station (Kings of Convenience, Andrew Bird, Belle + Sebastian), my Friday-night Katy Perry Station (which apparently Bruno Mars and Far East Movement hijacked), and even snuck its way onto the Christmas station I had running back in December. It's like the Kevin Bacon of covers. It finds its way into everything.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
"Totes Inappropes..." Bachelorette Mayhem
Fifteen years ago, Snap and I were frenemies who dated each others' exboyfriends. After finally realizing in high school that we actually loved one another quite muchly, we stalked each other online through college via now-antiquated LiveJournal. We both attended grad schools in the south and bonded further over Academia and the fish-out-of-water acclimation we both endured moving from the mid-Atlantic. Post grad-school, we shared a lot of heart ache over terrible jobs, terrible boyfriends, terrible bills, and terrible car problems.
Last night, we donned pink furry mustaches and glittery sashes and bar hopped through downtown Annapolis for Snap's bachelorette party. In May, she'll marry the best dude for the job. And, somewhere around 2am in a dark kitchen over some quite-delicious greasy pizza from that place downtown where we both worked at various times in high school/college, we re-enacted the history of our friendship for the entertainment of other old friends and soon-to-be-family members. We recited old diary entries, dredged up first kisses, and acted out the moments that were linchpins in our shared histories.
Fifteen years, and you're still my most favorite bitch, Snap. And you damn well better believe I am bringing middle school diary material into my speech at your wedding.
Last night, we donned pink furry mustaches and glittery sashes and bar hopped through downtown Annapolis for Snap's bachelorette party. In May, she'll marry the best dude for the job. And, somewhere around 2am in a dark kitchen over some quite-delicious greasy pizza from that place downtown where we both worked at various times in high school/college, we re-enacted the history of our friendship for the entertainment of other old friends and soon-to-be-family members. We recited old diary entries, dredged up first kisses, and acted out the moments that were linchpins in our shared histories.
Fifteen years, and you're still my most favorite bitch, Snap. And you damn well better believe I am bringing middle school diary material into my speech at your wedding.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)