I'm so tempted to pull a Felicity and chop off my locks, but there never seems to be enough time in the day to breathe let alone find a decent shearing establishment and do the deed.
Heck, I've barely blogged about my adventures in the past few months since I've moved out to the east coast. One day soon, I'll fill you in, dear Internet. The stories include many back-and-forth travels between Beantown and the City of Brotherly Love, and a tree falling on my car in the middle of a thunderstorm. Rolicking good times!
Smackwater Jack :: Carole King
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
jekyl/hyde
At lunch today, a story was relayed of drunken weekend debauchery. The story included a 'gay boy man whore' (her term, not mine) and a breeder chick looking to score at the a local watering hole. Taking their two randoms back to the apartment, there were requests from hers for a menange a trois including the aforementioned 'GBMW' which was denied, followed by a plea for "foot fucking" which was again denied to much laughter. The compromise turned out to be some toe sucking and foot worship to vuch laughter and disbelief. Halfway through the store, we looked over at the next table and noticed a mother and her six-year old daughter having lunch. The poor girl probably had a billion questions for her mommy on the ride home from the restuarant.
Much tamer was my previous evening's activities which included driving a friend and collegue to the dealership to pick up her new car, returning her rental,and having dinner at a great little Mexican cucina in Norwood. And my weekend consisted of making fun of a bedazzled Chris Isaak decked out in an electric blue sequinzed suit while in concert, exploring downtown Boston with a colleague, and attending a dinner party in Waltham.
It strikes me as interesting the differences between the two primary group of friends that I hang out with. perhaps it says something about my personality. what exactly that is, i'm not sure.
Sweetness :: Jimmy Eat World
Much tamer was my previous evening's activities which included driving a friend and collegue to the dealership to pick up her new car, returning her rental,and having dinner at a great little Mexican cucina in Norwood. And my weekend consisted of making fun of a bedazzled Chris Isaak decked out in an electric blue sequinzed suit while in concert, exploring downtown Boston with a colleague, and attending a dinner party in Waltham.
It strikes me as interesting the differences between the two primary group of friends that I hang out with. perhaps it says something about my personality. what exactly that is, i'm not sure.
Sweetness :: Jimmy Eat World
Saturday, August 13, 2005
old man at the club
Is it sad that at the club tonight, I felt like I was 65?
The journey home included me being given a giant bear hug and then subsequently carried around quincy market, and then getting mooned by someone in our party as we made our way toward the highway. Amusing, yes. But am I too old for this? Probably not. But I feel it.
Funny thing is, we were at another venue earlier on in the evening watching senior citizens line dancing to electronica and I was probably more amused by them. Man, I'm aging too quickly for my years.
The journey home included me being given a giant bear hug and then subsequently carried around quincy market, and then getting mooned by someone in our party as we made our way toward the highway. Amusing, yes. But am I too old for this? Probably not. But I feel it.
Funny thing is, we were at another venue earlier on in the evening watching senior citizens line dancing to electronica and I was probably more amused by them. Man, I'm aging too quickly for my years.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
home
It's been ages since my last post - I barely know where to begin.
At the present, I'm sitting on the floor of my old bedroom in my parents' house. My computer is on the carpet, and the only other things in the room are a bed and an abandoned wardrobe. Just a few hours earlier, the movers came and packed up my life into 63 boxes and carted them off in a huge 40 foot container. Because I've been spending the past few days back in Vancouver sorting my things in anticipation of the move, I've gotten very little sleep. The result was an already sleep-deprived me, being deprived of even more sleep. Racoons are jealous of the dark circles around my eyes.
Now that my stuff is gone, I have a sense of relief that the move portion of my trip is over, and I can now focus on my sister's wedding, which happens tomorrow. However, part of me feels a little wistful and unsettled. After a month of being on the road (or "on airplanes," as it were) between Philadelphia and Boston, living out of two suitcases, and eating out at greasy spoons every night, I've been looking foward to coming home. But now, home doesn't seem as much like "home" anymore - but rather, the place that I come to when I want to visit my parents. My mother has started to talk about converting my room into a sewing room, and happy as I am for her that she's starting to embrace being an empty nester, it saddens me to realize that this place, what has been my haven for so long, no matter how long I was away for school or work, really is now "my parents' place."
The idea of not having a home right now (I go back to living in hotel rooms for the next month until my stuff arrives in Boston and I move into my apartment) is kind of jarring, and I'm not certain how to feel about it. One thing I know though - no matter what I call this place, or what incarnation my old bedroom takes on, in my mind, this will always be home.
As soon as the movers drove away and I closed the door after waving them goodbye, I walked into the kitchen where my mom was over the sink, preparing to make a pot of soup. Paperwork in hand, I placed my arms around her and held her in a tight embrace. "I know," she said.
At the present, I'm sitting on the floor of my old bedroom in my parents' house. My computer is on the carpet, and the only other things in the room are a bed and an abandoned wardrobe. Just a few hours earlier, the movers came and packed up my life into 63 boxes and carted them off in a huge 40 foot container. Because I've been spending the past few days back in Vancouver sorting my things in anticipation of the move, I've gotten very little sleep. The result was an already sleep-deprived me, being deprived of even more sleep. Racoons are jealous of the dark circles around my eyes.
Now that my stuff is gone, I have a sense of relief that the move portion of my trip is over, and I can now focus on my sister's wedding, which happens tomorrow. However, part of me feels a little wistful and unsettled. After a month of being on the road (or "on airplanes," as it were) between Philadelphia and Boston, living out of two suitcases, and eating out at greasy spoons every night, I've been looking foward to coming home. But now, home doesn't seem as much like "home" anymore - but rather, the place that I come to when I want to visit my parents. My mother has started to talk about converting my room into a sewing room, and happy as I am for her that she's starting to embrace being an empty nester, it saddens me to realize that this place, what has been my haven for so long, no matter how long I was away for school or work, really is now "my parents' place."
The idea of not having a home right now (I go back to living in hotel rooms for the next month until my stuff arrives in Boston and I move into my apartment) is kind of jarring, and I'm not certain how to feel about it. One thing I know though - no matter what I call this place, or what incarnation my old bedroom takes on, in my mind, this will always be home.
As soon as the movers drove away and I closed the door after waving them goodbye, I walked into the kitchen where my mom was over the sink, preparing to make a pot of soup. Paperwork in hand, I placed my arms around her and held her in a tight embrace. "I know," she said.
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