After skiing all day Sunday, as I am wont to do pretty much every weekend, DB, Mountain Man and I settled into the Stube with the rest of the crew and managed to get ourselves into a rather interesting discussion about soccer. Mind you, DB being Irish actually gives him quite a bit of expertise on the subject. Mountain Man and I were pretty much listening for most of it, as my “expertise” on the subject consists of attending the 2003 Women’s World Cup and reading “Fever Pitch” by Nick Hornby.
Anyway, I learned quite a bit on the topic, not the least of which was the reasoning behind football riots and what the police in Ireland and England now do about that. It’s fascinating, really. Apparently, most of the new stadia are built into sections that are next to impossible to cross. Each section is enclosed in such a way that if a problem were to erupt in one set of stands, the authorities can close off that section, evacuate the rest of the stadium and the pitch and deal with the problem. This has become quite the irritation for the soccer hooligans who like to cause trouble at games. Apparently at one Ireland-England match, the authorities (whoever they are—not sure if it’s the police or what) scanned the crowd as they came in for hooligans and then once the English hooligans decided to start wreaking havoc, they shut down the section they were occupying, stopped the game, evacuated the stadium and beat the hell out of the hooligans. That’s one way to send a message, I suppose.
I am a little envious of the whole soccer phenomenon over in England/Ireland as DB was telling us these cool stories about how the opposing fans sing all these chants and songs at each other, everyone knows all the words and it’s all very civilized and good fun. We don’t do that over here. All we ever do is yell and chant stupid slogans and do “the wave.” Which incidentally was a lot of fun during one of the intermissions at the Linkin Park concert, but gets old after the sixth time around the stadium at a baseball game. Actually, don’t get me started on baseball. We could be here for days.
So, my actual favorite part of the conversation occurred with Chief Loves-His-Voice decided to start participating. As his name would suggest, he is an information leaf-blower. However, he doesn’t always know what he’s talking about. Never stops him. Anyway, he joins in the conversation with what he knows about English soccer and we all just kind of look at him while he talks. The subject somehow comes around to famous soccer players and then it happens.
Chief Loves-His-Voice declares “Isn’t David Beckham German?” German. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, someone actually didn’t know that David Beckham, the most famous sports figure on the planet, is British. I live in the most soccer-retarded country on the planet and we all still know who he is! DB, Mountain Man and I just shook our heads and tried not to laugh out loud. Unreal.
On that note, it’s time for me to get going. German. Hee!
Quote of the Day: “I’ve still got sand in my shoes/and I can’t shake the thought of you/I should get on/forget you/but why would I want to?/I know we said goodbye/anything else would have been confused/but I want to see you again.” Sand in My Shoes, Dido
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
Melancholy and Eternal Sunshine
I saw Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind last night and was absolutely amazed and impressed by what I saw. As a general rule, I like Charlie Kaufman movies, but this one really grabbed me in a way that most movies don’t. I admitted to Speedy during the previews that we all know how much I love movies that make me cry. Little known fact about me—I do love a good tearjerker and the more unusual the tearjerker, the better. I love to cry at strange movies like “Eternal Sunshine” and “The Crow” far more than I do conventional films like, oh, “Legends of the Fall.”
But I digress. It was a fascinating study in human nature and the desire to start over. I confess that had I had the option of erasing Mr. Stupidhead, there’s no question that four months ago, I would have done it. Now that I’m back on my feet and far, far away from the situation, I realize the utility of keeping memories both pleasant and terrible.
Clementine was this incredibly impetuous character full of id and it was fascinating to watch her crazed relationship with Joel. They seemed so unalike and yet so interesting. There’s a part where they say goodbye and that’s where I lost it.
I think the reason the movie hit me so hard was that I want to be like Clementine—I want to be impetuous and surprising. I know that I’m stuck here doing the same thing all the time and I really want to get out and be a little crazy for once.
Martini and I were joking about taking an impromptu trip to Dublin and calling Eire from a pub. I think he’d get a great kick out of it, actually. Once my money woes sort themselves out, that might be a legitimate trip. Who knows?
Quote of the Day: How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!/The world forgetting, by the world forgot./Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Eloisa to Abelard, by Alexander Pope
But I digress. It was a fascinating study in human nature and the desire to start over. I confess that had I had the option of erasing Mr. Stupidhead, there’s no question that four months ago, I would have done it. Now that I’m back on my feet and far, far away from the situation, I realize the utility of keeping memories both pleasant and terrible.
Clementine was this incredibly impetuous character full of id and it was fascinating to watch her crazed relationship with Joel. They seemed so unalike and yet so interesting. There’s a part where they say goodbye and that’s where I lost it.
I think the reason the movie hit me so hard was that I want to be like Clementine—I want to be impetuous and surprising. I know that I’m stuck here doing the same thing all the time and I really want to get out and be a little crazy for once.
Martini and I were joking about taking an impromptu trip to Dublin and calling Eire from a pub. I think he’d get a great kick out of it, actually. Once my money woes sort themselves out, that might be a legitimate trip. Who knows?
Quote of the Day: How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!/The world forgetting, by the world forgot./Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Eloisa to Abelard, by Alexander Pope
Monday, March 22, 2004
Stuck in the Office on a Sunny Day
There’s a Baz Luhrman song that talks about wearing sunscreen and it’s stuck in my head right now. Reason being that I should have reapplied some this weekend, as I now have a pretty funky, Star Trek-y sunburn on my face from skiing all weekend. It’s pretty funny. I actually applied SPF 45 first thing in the morning, but then didn’t think to reapply at lunch. My bad.
Gorgeous weekend, good snow and good festivities. It was the weekend of parties as we celebrated not one but two birthdays in Hood River. The birthday party on Saturday night involved some of the cutest, sweetest kids ever and it went very well. Perhaps it was just a different dynamic, but the kids were incredibly well-behaved, fun to have and they weren’t underfoot at all.
I must admit, I’m a little unmotivated to write these days. Speedy made the charming comment yesterday that she wouldn’t put her life up on the Internet, but I guess I’m just looking for an outlet for writing and this seemed to make sense. Eventually I feel like I will try and write more abstract stuff, but they say (and God knows who they are, but whatever) that you should write what you know. And I’m definitely doing that. So maybe one day this will become something besides an online recounting of my life and times, but not yet.
Quote of the Day: “Don’t waste your time on me/You’re already the voice inside my head.” I Miss You, Blink-182
Gorgeous weekend, good snow and good festivities. It was the weekend of parties as we celebrated not one but two birthdays in Hood River. The birthday party on Saturday night involved some of the cutest, sweetest kids ever and it went very well. Perhaps it was just a different dynamic, but the kids were incredibly well-behaved, fun to have and they weren’t underfoot at all.
I must admit, I’m a little unmotivated to write these days. Speedy made the charming comment yesterday that she wouldn’t put her life up on the Internet, but I guess I’m just looking for an outlet for writing and this seemed to make sense. Eventually I feel like I will try and write more abstract stuff, but they say (and God knows who they are, but whatever) that you should write what you know. And I’m definitely doing that. So maybe one day this will become something besides an online recounting of my life and times, but not yet.
Quote of the Day: “Don’t waste your time on me/You’re already the voice inside my head.” I Miss You, Blink-182
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
The Spicy McHaggis Jig
Ahhh…St. Paddy’s Day. I can definitely get behind a holiday that requires me to wear my favorite green sweater, pinch my friends if they aren’t wearing green and drink a lot of beer. That’s what I call a holiday. I’ve adapted the line from “The Crow” where T-Bird is talking about Devil’s Night for St. Paddy’s Day: “Here’s to St. Patrick’s Day, my new favorite haaaaliday.” And I skip the part where he washes down a bullet with a shot of tequila.
Right now I’m listening to Dropkick Murphys and daydreaming about Guinness, Harp and parades as I sit at work attempting to be productive. I really want to dance tonight, and think that I might just do that at the Green Room. At least after a few beers I can use that as a valid excuse.
We specifically picked the Green Room because it isn’t Kell’s. Not that I personally have anything against Kell’s, but there’s no parking, it’s expensive and half the damn city is there this week. Thus, we decided that we can be just as pseudo-Irish at a different Irish bar. Much easier and it’s bigger than Biddy’s. Biddy’s was fun last year, but there are too many of us going out to be squarshed like sardines into Biddy’s.
Unfortunately, my reverie has been interrupted by a voice message from Mr. Stupidhead, my most recent ex. I think his sixth sense told him that I’m not thinking about him at all anymore and thus, he has to call and irritate me again. Fortunately, he’s leaving the country for two months on Sunday and I am off the hook, probably until my birthday when he’ll decide that he should be nice. All I really have to say about that is, dude, you have a new girlfriend. Take care of her and have fun and don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Better than I ever was, actually, so thanks for asking and have a great life. Buh-bye!
That was a fun distraction. So pretty much anything Eire does in the next few days will put me in a good mood. Lucky him.
Quote of the Day: “We’ll drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and fight!/we’ll drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and fight!/and if I see a pretty girl, I’ll sleep with her tonight!/We'll drink, and drink, and drink, and drink, and drink, and drink and fight!” Irish Drinking Song, Buck-O-Nine
Right now I’m listening to Dropkick Murphys and daydreaming about Guinness, Harp and parades as I sit at work attempting to be productive. I really want to dance tonight, and think that I might just do that at the Green Room. At least after a few beers I can use that as a valid excuse.
We specifically picked the Green Room because it isn’t Kell’s. Not that I personally have anything against Kell’s, but there’s no parking, it’s expensive and half the damn city is there this week. Thus, we decided that we can be just as pseudo-Irish at a different Irish bar. Much easier and it’s bigger than Biddy’s. Biddy’s was fun last year, but there are too many of us going out to be squarshed like sardines into Biddy’s.
Unfortunately, my reverie has been interrupted by a voice message from Mr. Stupidhead, my most recent ex. I think his sixth sense told him that I’m not thinking about him at all anymore and thus, he has to call and irritate me again. Fortunately, he’s leaving the country for two months on Sunday and I am off the hook, probably until my birthday when he’ll decide that he should be nice. All I really have to say about that is, dude, you have a new girlfriend. Take care of her and have fun and don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Better than I ever was, actually, so thanks for asking and have a great life. Buh-bye!
That was a fun distraction. So pretty much anything Eire does in the next few days will put me in a good mood. Lucky him.
Quote of the Day: “We’ll drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and fight!/we’ll drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and fight!/and if I see a pretty girl, I’ll sleep with her tonight!/We'll drink, and drink, and drink, and drink, and drink, and drink and fight!” Irish Drinking Song, Buck-O-Nine
Monday, March 15, 2004
Jeans and a polypro...
It costs $2.21 per minute to call Ireland. Just a point of reference from anyone on the AT&T Wireless network on this side of the country. I didn’t check for the other side as I don’t live there and thus, don’t really care. So, yeah, time to go to Costco and purchase a handy dandy phone card that isn’t going to force me to leverage my car against my phone bill. Good lord. How does this seem logical?
Money problems aside, it’s been a great few days. Skiing all weekend was gorgeous and loads of fun. Snowrider had a great and successful time at Vegetate, so that makes me happy as well. My cheeks and nose are ruddy from not using enough sunscreen, but I could think of worse problems to have.
I am massively sleep deprived as my friend Bumbershoot is in town from Eugene and I’m stoked to be hanging out with her. We’ve been running around town trying to figure out fun places and good drinks. It’s been pretty fun, actually. We managed to persuade Chitown to hang out with us last night and ended up at Muu Muu’s for beers at the end of the evening. I am so sleepy! But in a good, Starbucks-fixable kind of way.
My roommate said the funniest thing to me this morning. She yelled at me for not telling her that our mutual friend Ron was in town, which I had forgotten entirely, actually. She and I were joking about his new girlfriend, who lives here while he lives in Minnesota. I joked that we had said, “Geez, Ron, fear commitment much?” My roommate looks at me, starts to laugh and says, “Um, Captain? Pot…kettle…black!! IRELAND!!”
Unchallenged. And don’t even get me started on airfares…
Quote of the day: “You're all scared and stiff/A sick stolen gift/And the people you're with/They're all scared and stiff/And I wanted to be/Wanted to be your good friend.” All in Your Mind, Beck
Money problems aside, it’s been a great few days. Skiing all weekend was gorgeous and loads of fun. Snowrider had a great and successful time at Vegetate, so that makes me happy as well. My cheeks and nose are ruddy from not using enough sunscreen, but I could think of worse problems to have.
I am massively sleep deprived as my friend Bumbershoot is in town from Eugene and I’m stoked to be hanging out with her. We’ve been running around town trying to figure out fun places and good drinks. It’s been pretty fun, actually. We managed to persuade Chitown to hang out with us last night and ended up at Muu Muu’s for beers at the end of the evening. I am so sleepy! But in a good, Starbucks-fixable kind of way.
My roommate said the funniest thing to me this morning. She yelled at me for not telling her that our mutual friend Ron was in town, which I had forgotten entirely, actually. She and I were joking about his new girlfriend, who lives here while he lives in Minnesota. I joked that we had said, “Geez, Ron, fear commitment much?” My roommate looks at me, starts to laugh and says, “Um, Captain? Pot…kettle…black!! IRELAND!!”
Unchallenged. And don’t even get me started on airfares…
Quote of the day: “You're all scared and stiff/A sick stolen gift/And the people you're with/They're all scared and stiff/And I wanted to be/Wanted to be your good friend.” All in Your Mind, Beck
Thursday, March 11, 2004
I am the Firestarter
I am literally electric today. I have been conducting static electricity like it's my job. I don't know if it's the caffeine or the shoes, as Martini suggested, but I have shocked myself so many times today that I am losing my sense of humor. I actually shorted out an electric appliance today by zapping it. We have a copy counter attached to our Xerox machine and when I went to tap in my passcode this morning, I felt a giant ZAP and the buttons stopped working. Seriously. This is my day.
And I'm still bored. I've bugged everyone in the office twice for something to do and it's still not helping. Time to go make phone calls or something. What a bad day to be bored!!
Quote of the afternoon: "I am so dumb/just beam me up." Dying, Hole
And I'm still bored. I've bugged everyone in the office twice for something to do and it's still not helping. Time to go make phone calls or something. What a bad day to be bored!!
Quote of the afternoon: "I am so dumb/just beam me up." Dying, Hole
Why grande mochas are always a bad idea.
I’m having a bad day, for sure. I am bored and overcaffeinated, which is never a good combination. Far too much free time to think about really stupid things, which always puts me in a bad and pensive mood. Neither of which I particularly have time for right now. It just makes me tired.
Martini and I had a really funny conversation yesterday about new relationships and potential potholes. It was refreshing to finally get everything that’s been going on inside me out of my head and start being myself again. It’s fun to be giddy and girlie for a little while, but now I am just straight up sleep deprived and eagerly awaiting the weekend. Martini and I both made the point that we don’t like the whole early-relationship limbo phase. I want to go straight from Point A to Point C. B sucks. It’s lazy and I should be excited about it, but it just stresses me out and I’ve got quite enough of that in my life right now. Case in point…
I’m a little bit stressed about this weekend. Snowrider is putting on a booth at MHM’s Vegetate and as excited as I am about that prospect, it’s making me insane as I am trying to balance my responsibility to organizing volunteers, procuring donations and money from a variety of people, and maintaining my sanity all without having a car right now. Grrr. C’est la vie. I will be OK, I swear!
I know that the reason I keep myself busy is to fend off the urge to spend my free time in bed with the covers pulled up over my head, but that urge gets worse the busier I get. It’s a total Catch-22, but I don’t really know any other way to do it. I feel helpless, but it’s entirely self-inflicted.
I loved going to lacrosse practice last night because it gave me the opportunity to run around, play a sport, work my body and talk solely about lacrosse. It was nice to be able to help the new girls work on playing and not have to deal with anything, organize anything or analyze anything for an hour.
Once again, I am well aware that this is self-inflicted, but I think I am terrified of the thought of free time and the idea that I might spend every afternoon on the couch watching TRL and eating tortilla chips. Plain, because guacamole is too expensive. This is a legitimate fear of mine, actually. I guess I want to have more to talk about than what happened last night on TV, even if I am slightly obsessed with my TiVo.
OK, I’m going to go find something to do so I can stop compulsively checking my email. It’s not helping.
Quote of the Day: “Take the elevator at the Hotel Yorba/I’ll be glad to see you later/All they got inside is vacancy/It might seem silly for me to have childish thoughts like these/but I’m so tired of acting tough and I’m gonna do what I please.” Hotel Yorba The White Stripes
Martini and I had a really funny conversation yesterday about new relationships and potential potholes. It was refreshing to finally get everything that’s been going on inside me out of my head and start being myself again. It’s fun to be giddy and girlie for a little while, but now I am just straight up sleep deprived and eagerly awaiting the weekend. Martini and I both made the point that we don’t like the whole early-relationship limbo phase. I want to go straight from Point A to Point C. B sucks. It’s lazy and I should be excited about it, but it just stresses me out and I’ve got quite enough of that in my life right now. Case in point…
I’m a little bit stressed about this weekend. Snowrider is putting on a booth at MHM’s Vegetate and as excited as I am about that prospect, it’s making me insane as I am trying to balance my responsibility to organizing volunteers, procuring donations and money from a variety of people, and maintaining my sanity all without having a car right now. Grrr. C’est la vie. I will be OK, I swear!
I know that the reason I keep myself busy is to fend off the urge to spend my free time in bed with the covers pulled up over my head, but that urge gets worse the busier I get. It’s a total Catch-22, but I don’t really know any other way to do it. I feel helpless, but it’s entirely self-inflicted.
I loved going to lacrosse practice last night because it gave me the opportunity to run around, play a sport, work my body and talk solely about lacrosse. It was nice to be able to help the new girls work on playing and not have to deal with anything, organize anything or analyze anything for an hour.
Once again, I am well aware that this is self-inflicted, but I think I am terrified of the thought of free time and the idea that I might spend every afternoon on the couch watching TRL and eating tortilla chips. Plain, because guacamole is too expensive. This is a legitimate fear of mine, actually. I guess I want to have more to talk about than what happened last night on TV, even if I am slightly obsessed with my TiVo.
OK, I’m going to go find something to do so I can stop compulsively checking my email. It’s not helping.
Quote of the Day: “Take the elevator at the Hotel Yorba/I’ll be glad to see you later/All they got inside is vacancy/It might seem silly for me to have childish thoughts like these/but I’m so tired of acting tough and I’m gonna do what I please.” Hotel Yorba The White Stripes
Monday, March 08, 2004
Red Bull and Irish Men...
I tried to update this today, but spent most of the day being all girly and googly because I met a new boy I really like over the weekend and it was a bit of a whirlwind. That, and I spent most of yesterday being horrifically hungover and I haven’t done that in a great long time and would like to keep it that way. Serves me right for trying to keep up with a pair of Irishmen on Saturday night. I know better, now!!
Anyway, the skiing was absolutely epic on Saturday. We ratpacked all over the mountain all morning and afternoon. A few of us had to stop for lineups, but our dear boss let us go and be free to lay tracks all over the mountain. In the morning, Park City, Bientot, YM, Ty Webb, DB and I skied Private Reserve for the first time and had a blast. We had slough storms all over the place and the cat track nearly killed all six of us. It’s a good thing I’m in shape, because that thing was a nightmare. At the end of it, we stopped at the Renaissance Café to get water, as we were dying. Right before we got to the café, I saw Luke Wilson (not the real one, but it’s a striking resemblance) and he actually said hello and initiated a conversation with me. So once again, hell froze over. I was amazed and still wonder if he thought that I was someone else as he has not willingly spoken to me the whole season. Whatever. Spring thaw, I guess.
After pizza lunch at Auntie Pasta’s and the requisite mockery of DB for abandoning his brother, who was up visiting for the weekend, we decided to go make laps through Heather Canyon. It was fantastic, beautiful snow and we had a wonderful time. By this time we had also added Marshall, Mayday, CNG and another kid to our roster and were ripping up the slopes. Upper Heather was gorgeous and creamy as ever I have skied it. So. Much. Fun.
My legs finally couldn’t take it anymore around 4pm and I even took one last run with Chitown after he begged me to go back out. After quitting, we all wandered over to the Stube, where DB’s brother, Eire, had apparently staked out a table around 3pm. Lucky kid. I guess one of the snowboarding instructors had been teaching him to ride all day. Anyway, Eire and I started talking and pretty much didn’t stop until I had to leave to go back to El Cabino, where State was cooking us dinner with her boyfriend, Yooper. We’d never met Yooper, so we were dying to meet him and find out what he was like. I rode down with YM and literally sprinted into the cabin because I had to pee ridiculously badly. Of course, someone was in the bathroom, so I nearly melted down. Very funny.
Dinner was delicious, Yooper is hilarious and State seemed really, really happy. Thus, we are all happy as she deserves a good guy in her life.
After dinner, we mobilized to get the hell down to Hood River to party hearty. I called shotgun in YM’s car, much to Canuck’s chagrin, since he always wants it. Marshall and Ty Webb followed us down to HR and set up camp at the bar while we went over to DB’s house to mobilize the troops. Eire, his friend, Canuck and I piled back into YM’s car and we rallied Mayday as well, who wasn’t very happy about the whole thing. Oh well.
Jager shots were passed around posthaste and the evening sort of dissolves into a blur shortly after that, except for the part where I decided it would be a great idea to make out with Eire in the middle of the bar. Yeah. Yeah. OK, not my best performance, but fun nonetheless. I would’ve stayed in HR that night, too, except for the intervention of YM, which may or may not have been helpful. Whatever.
After spending most of yesterday recovering, I went to dinner at Harborside with the whole DB/Eire family, including kids. It was delicious, the view was great, and Eire and I have pretty much decided that we want to see each other again. DB’s wife informed me that I was driving him to the airport, much to my surprise, so after walking all over the waterfront chasing after the munchkins, the fam said goodbye and we trooped over to my car and headed for the airport. Now, the airport is not necessarily a bad thing, but in this case, the destination? Dublin by way of Boston. Yeah, Ireland. Good times. Goodbyes were said, contact info was exchanged, there was much rueing of the current situation and the establishment that Eire is a great kisser. TMI for the friends, I know. Sorry.
I think I want to go visit at the end of May or early June. Hee. I've never been to Ireland before. This could be great.
Quote of the Day: “Who’s gonna ride your wild horses/Who’s gonna drown in your blue sea/who’s gonna taste your saltwater kisses/who’s going to take the place of me?” Wild Horses, U2
Anyway, the skiing was absolutely epic on Saturday. We ratpacked all over the mountain all morning and afternoon. A few of us had to stop for lineups, but our dear boss let us go and be free to lay tracks all over the mountain. In the morning, Park City, Bientot, YM, Ty Webb, DB and I skied Private Reserve for the first time and had a blast. We had slough storms all over the place and the cat track nearly killed all six of us. It’s a good thing I’m in shape, because that thing was a nightmare. At the end of it, we stopped at the Renaissance Café to get water, as we were dying. Right before we got to the café, I saw Luke Wilson (not the real one, but it’s a striking resemblance) and he actually said hello and initiated a conversation with me. So once again, hell froze over. I was amazed and still wonder if he thought that I was someone else as he has not willingly spoken to me the whole season. Whatever. Spring thaw, I guess.
After pizza lunch at Auntie Pasta’s and the requisite mockery of DB for abandoning his brother, who was up visiting for the weekend, we decided to go make laps through Heather Canyon. It was fantastic, beautiful snow and we had a wonderful time. By this time we had also added Marshall, Mayday, CNG and another kid to our roster and were ripping up the slopes. Upper Heather was gorgeous and creamy as ever I have skied it. So. Much. Fun.
My legs finally couldn’t take it anymore around 4pm and I even took one last run with Chitown after he begged me to go back out. After quitting, we all wandered over to the Stube, where DB’s brother, Eire, had apparently staked out a table around 3pm. Lucky kid. I guess one of the snowboarding instructors had been teaching him to ride all day. Anyway, Eire and I started talking and pretty much didn’t stop until I had to leave to go back to El Cabino, where State was cooking us dinner with her boyfriend, Yooper. We’d never met Yooper, so we were dying to meet him and find out what he was like. I rode down with YM and literally sprinted into the cabin because I had to pee ridiculously badly. Of course, someone was in the bathroom, so I nearly melted down. Very funny.
Dinner was delicious, Yooper is hilarious and State seemed really, really happy. Thus, we are all happy as she deserves a good guy in her life.
After dinner, we mobilized to get the hell down to Hood River to party hearty. I called shotgun in YM’s car, much to Canuck’s chagrin, since he always wants it. Marshall and Ty Webb followed us down to HR and set up camp at the bar while we went over to DB’s house to mobilize the troops. Eire, his friend, Canuck and I piled back into YM’s car and we rallied Mayday as well, who wasn’t very happy about the whole thing. Oh well.
Jager shots were passed around posthaste and the evening sort of dissolves into a blur shortly after that, except for the part where I decided it would be a great idea to make out with Eire in the middle of the bar. Yeah. Yeah. OK, not my best performance, but fun nonetheless. I would’ve stayed in HR that night, too, except for the intervention of YM, which may or may not have been helpful. Whatever.
After spending most of yesterday recovering, I went to dinner at Harborside with the whole DB/Eire family, including kids. It was delicious, the view was great, and Eire and I have pretty much decided that we want to see each other again. DB’s wife informed me that I was driving him to the airport, much to my surprise, so after walking all over the waterfront chasing after the munchkins, the fam said goodbye and we trooped over to my car and headed for the airport. Now, the airport is not necessarily a bad thing, but in this case, the destination? Dublin by way of Boston. Yeah, Ireland. Good times. Goodbyes were said, contact info was exchanged, there was much rueing of the current situation and the establishment that Eire is a great kisser. TMI for the friends, I know. Sorry.
I think I want to go visit at the end of May or early June. Hee. I've never been to Ireland before. This could be great.
Quote of the Day: “Who’s gonna ride your wild horses/Who’s gonna drown in your blue sea/who’s gonna taste your saltwater kisses/who’s going to take the place of me?” Wild Horses, U2
Friday, March 05, 2004
It makes as much sense as counting pebbles on a beach
Today has lasted longer than several Hollywood marriages combined, I estimate. I am very glad that I have a job, but occasionally one of my co-workers and I lament our inability to get paid for being fabulous. We haven’t gotten the kinks worked out of the business plan yet, but we’re working on it. How is this not possible? I want to be fabulous and be ridiculously compensated for it. That happens to people, right? Right?
OK, so it really doesn’t.
In my dreams, I’m living in some MTV Cribs-esque mansion complete with wave pool and grotto a la the Playboy Mansion with my own personal concert promoter booking the Specials and Linkin Park in my backyard whenever I feel like listening to them. Like a live stereo system, if you will. The bar in the basement is the hottest club in town and the bar upstairs is a mellow place where I can kick back and have martinis with my friends. There’s a brewpub in the kitchen, which happens to be personally chef-ed by someone trained by Greg Higgins. I don’t care who, as long as the food is amazing and the cook is hot.
I have three bedrooms to choose from, two bathrooms, eight living rooms and two playrooms filled with pool tables, ping-pong tables, 80’s-vintage Atari games, pinball games and Foosball tables.
The wave pool in the back is adjustable to what I want to surf that day. The garage contains a Mercedes Gelandewagen, a Porsche Boxster, two Subaru WRX STis, and a Cadillac Escalade.
I have a personal jet and houses in Whistler, New Zealand and an apartment in Milan.
And then I wake up because my alarm just went off and I am going to be late for my real job, the one that pays my rent in my house. And I go stand at the bus stop.
Dammit.
Quote of the Day: Just step back and see/it’s not the way to be/you’ve got to find a place in life.” Place in Life, The Specials.
OK, so it really doesn’t.
In my dreams, I’m living in some MTV Cribs-esque mansion complete with wave pool and grotto a la the Playboy Mansion with my own personal concert promoter booking the Specials and Linkin Park in my backyard whenever I feel like listening to them. Like a live stereo system, if you will. The bar in the basement is the hottest club in town and the bar upstairs is a mellow place where I can kick back and have martinis with my friends. There’s a brewpub in the kitchen, which happens to be personally chef-ed by someone trained by Greg Higgins. I don’t care who, as long as the food is amazing and the cook is hot.
I have three bedrooms to choose from, two bathrooms, eight living rooms and two playrooms filled with pool tables, ping-pong tables, 80’s-vintage Atari games, pinball games and Foosball tables.
The wave pool in the back is adjustable to what I want to surf that day. The garage contains a Mercedes Gelandewagen, a Porsche Boxster, two Subaru WRX STis, and a Cadillac Escalade.
I have a personal jet and houses in Whistler, New Zealand and an apartment in Milan.
And then I wake up because my alarm just went off and I am going to be late for my real job, the one that pays my rent in my house. And I go stand at the bus stop.
Dammit.
Quote of the Day: Just step back and see/it’s not the way to be/you’ve got to find a place in life.” Place in Life, The Specials.
Wednesday, March 03, 2004
Boys on the Brain (not the docks)
My weeks are starting to fly by so fast that I am barely noticing them. Between Surfrider meetings, volunteering at Our House, lacrosse practice and going to the gym, I am lucky to be sleeping much anymore. It’s crazy, but I love it. I’m so ecstatically happy to be single through all of this, because I think I would go insane trying to make time for anyone else right now. Marshall would be quick to note that if I wanted to make time, I would make time. She’s right, of course. It’s easy to say I’m too busy for a boyfriend where there certainly isn’t one on the horizon. Or is there?
Two of my friends have been harassing me to call back this guy that one of them tried to set me up with last month. He called about a week ago and asked if I was headed up to the mountain. Which I was, of course, but I didn’t call him back because I didn’t get the message until after the party at Eeyore’s and I figured that if he was coming up to ride, he’d already left and was on his way anyway. I suppose he had a cell phone, but I had to teach the little monsters all day anyway and there was no point in making plans to spend the 8 seconds of free time I had that day with him. OK, it’s a little bitchy, but part of me just doesn’t care. We didn’t click and I’m not calling him because I don’t want to encourage him. Gah.
Well, then there’s the Cute New Guy. Marshall talked me into giving him another chance since he works two (cool) jobs, rips on skis and reads Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I don't even read Gabriel Garcia Marquez. But he does, and that's pretty cool. Aside from the fact that he really annoyed me last weekend by getting absolutely plastered, I think I can probably try and give him another chance. I mean, anybody who knows me knows that I like some drinky-drink from time to time. I guess I just didn't like feeling like a babysitter. Whatever.
This had a point somewhere along the line. I'm not sure where I lost it, though. I'm sure it's my usual monthly boy-based rant and God knows, we have plenty of those lying around. Oh well. Onwards and upwards, right?
Quote of the Day: "I want to be a hunter again/I want to see the world along again/to take a chance on life again/so let me go."
Hunter by Dido
Two of my friends have been harassing me to call back this guy that one of them tried to set me up with last month. He called about a week ago and asked if I was headed up to the mountain. Which I was, of course, but I didn’t call him back because I didn’t get the message until after the party at Eeyore’s and I figured that if he was coming up to ride, he’d already left and was on his way anyway. I suppose he had a cell phone, but I had to teach the little monsters all day anyway and there was no point in making plans to spend the 8 seconds of free time I had that day with him. OK, it’s a little bitchy, but part of me just doesn’t care. We didn’t click and I’m not calling him because I don’t want to encourage him. Gah.
Well, then there’s the Cute New Guy. Marshall talked me into giving him another chance since he works two (cool) jobs, rips on skis and reads Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I don't even read Gabriel Garcia Marquez. But he does, and that's pretty cool. Aside from the fact that he really annoyed me last weekend by getting absolutely plastered, I think I can probably try and give him another chance. I mean, anybody who knows me knows that I like some drinky-drink from time to time. I guess I just didn't like feeling like a babysitter. Whatever.
This had a point somewhere along the line. I'm not sure where I lost it, though. I'm sure it's my usual monthly boy-based rant and God knows, we have plenty of those lying around. Oh well. Onwards and upwards, right?
Quote of the Day: "I want to be a hunter again/I want to see the world along again/to take a chance on life again/so let me go."
Hunter by Dido
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