Kickball, Softball, and so on...

So Wednesday night I went to my first ever kickball game. 3 friends play on the top team in one of the DC Kickball leagues.

I still think it's funny as hell.

Apparently, so do some authors. Check this book out (in Business Week last week).

Peter played his best game, though the team still lost. As Suave and I were sitting under a tree watching and whistling for the boys, one of Peter's friends walked by us. One of Peter's friends who is consistently around both Suave and I. One of Peter's friends who HOOKS UP with one of Suave's friends. He didn't recognize us. When we shockingly admitted who we were and that he had recently RSVPed to an evite we sent out, he apologized that he'd not been around us sober. Wow. But as he was walking away, I reminded Suave that we don't necessarily care one way or another and that neither of us generally put him on the evite anyways (he's added by Peter and the Lost Boys mostly).

But still. STD much?

After the game, we headed to Tom Tom's. Filthy Tom Toms. I'd prefer to lay on an unwashed hospital bed sheet than sit on one of those upstairs couches. Seriously, a girl could get pregnant just by making contact.

There were many attractive men. That's about the most positive thing I could say. I joked that I couldn't join in on flip cup because I might break a nail. The truth is, I wouldn't join in on flip cup because I might sit on the couch afterwards AND because cheap beer and sweaty guys haven't done it for me since I was 18 years old and proclaimed Sister Lightweight in my sorority.

I insulted the owner. I didn't realize he was the owner. He said he "runs" the league. I figured that was something like being a Manager at CVS. You don't own the store you just manage the contents and employees. So I think he was hitting on Suave, Suave's friend, and I.

I asked him why his shirt said "Local Celebrity." Seemed a bit pretentious, no?

He said, "Well, I manage this league."

Then he looked at me like I was supposed to care. Notably, when I drink, I think I lose some of the infamous attitude.

So, I tell him, "Oh, well this is my first kickball experience. Peter and company wanted me to experience the action."

He said, "Well, I'm the one who runs this whole thing."

Holy Shit, who is this kid?

So then the attitude returns. "Yeah. You know people say you're like the pigs in Animal Farm. At first you wanted to do something totally different than WAKA but now, you're walking on your hind legs just like them."

Shocked, he took his eyes OFF Suave's chest.

"Is that, like, a metaphor?"

"Yeah, it means you wanted to be different but now you're the same."

"Whatever."

And then he walked away to go chat up some fat, sweaty, blonde chick.

At least Peter and company thought it was funny. I didn't realize he OWNED the league. I'm certainly not that bitchy. Although, the Local Celebrity t-shirt was about as pathetic as tattooing your own name onto your arm.

Last night, I headed to the Mall to see APK's college alumni team play softball. GS was there too. So their team got voted the best looking girls in the league. The girls are certainly the most svelte out there. Some chick on another one of the teams, about 200 pounds minimum, decided it'd be a good idea to stretch beside us. Her thighs must have hurt, because I saw an awful lot of crotch in the stretching. Blah, I think I just lost my breakfast. The Button was looking awful good. I'm sure she's a normal person. It's probably just because she'd been sleeping with The Bacon. Okay, now I am going to lose my breakfast.

APK's off to Philly tonight. I'm off to the Devil Wears Prada.

I asked the girls I'm going with if we should wear Prada to the premiere. Sabrina new I was joking, though I don't know that her friends did. I got 2 responses that neither of them had designer clothes. Geez. Can you imagine?

Tasty Finger Food and Much More

Alyssa came in this weekend. Her flight was delayed. She came in at 2:30am on Thursday which catapulted us into a terrible meal schedule all weekend... waking up at 11am or noon, eating breakfast at 2pm. Now I know why I was so skinny in college... well and because I had not yet discovered cheese.

Friday, we were shunned from the Capitol tour for not getting our tickets at 9am... who knew so many people wanted to tour a building I'm still not sure the purpose of...

We headed to the Archives instead to view the Declaration of Independence and Constitution. The Declaration was so worn out we could barely read it... which is rather depressing when you think that in 20 years from now, our children won't be able to read it at all. Cool things about the Archives? At the Public Vault's exhibit, I was able to listen to a recorded phone conversation between JFK and the governor of Mississippi regarding James Meredith's admission to college. Oh, and they give you an audio tour for free to the correspondence section which displays letters written by everyone from Abraham Lincoln to George Bush. They have matched buttons to the displays so you can skip Rose Kennedy if you please and move on to Susan B. Anthony. Not that I skipped anything, of course.

After the Archives, we headed across the street to the National Gallery of Art's Sculpture Garden for free jazz (ever Friday in the summer from 5-8:30pm). We were approached by a boy, about 20, who explained slowly that he was a recovering stutterer who was in DC to make 100 contacts and practice introducing himself without stuttering. Alyssa was skeptical. I politely introduced us both and allowed him to introduce himself. I figured, if that was a pick-up line, hell, at least it was original.

Saturday was Arlington cemetery. Here are the questions we were left asking- #1 Does the changing of the Guards ceremony take place in the middle of the night when no one is watching? and #2 Don't these guards ever wake up in the morning and say "Holy shit! I have to go pace back and forth again all day. Damn. Wish I'd signed up for the Marines." Just wondering is all.

Saturday night we met the ladies out at the Bottom Line for drinks... and half-naked Rugby Players (they strip and dance everytime Sweet Child of Mine comes on) . One from Lithuania made out with Suave's friend last week and bit Alyssa's finger this week. Classy guy. The evening was definitely full of interesting characters... one named Aaron danced the chicken dance for us while we circled around him. Besides the fact that my feet were pretty much stuck to the gross floor at the Bottom Line, I can say it was a fun evening.

Sunday it rained. And rained. And continues to rain. We went to Eastern Market and found amazing cheese we HAD TO buy which provoked the purchase of a baguette and then peaches and then sauce from Ingleby Farms (Delaware) and Texas at the fabulous Uncle Brutha's. Then we had to have a barbecue. Of course, I invited everyone over way before it started raining. Pour APK had to grill the chicken under an umbrella. But the cheese and sauces were delicious.

Alyssa left yesterday. So sad. And then it got sadder because I watched the chick (who left me standing at the counter to take a personal call on her cell phone for 15 minutes, but anyways) at the DMV shred by Connecticut license from 2002 (right after college, sniffle) and give me a shiny new DC license where I look 26 instead of 22. Blah.

So that was the weekend. Last night, went to see Sarah Silverman's Jesus is Magic at the JCC. Hated the singing and the part where she makes out with herself in the mirror (was that realllly necessary?) but like the comedy. She should stick to stand-up and keep the obnoxious summer camp stuff in her youth. It's not cute to pretend like your butt is talking or change the lyrics to song to make them dirty past 13.

Goodness! Gracious! Great Balls of...

That just cannot feel good....

My Baby Brother's 23rd Birthday is Saturday.

I feel old.

Anyways.

Thought I'd surprise him with something funny (ya know, to top the PeeWee's Playhouse Season 1 DVD I got him for Chanukah).

Then thought, "Hey... no one sends singing telegrams anymore. How funny would it be to send a large dancing chicken to his door at 6am on Saturday morning."

Damn. Talk about inflation. I'd be looking at a minimum of $150. Extra for Marilyn and Elvis- explain that one to me?

Virus

My home computer is infected with some terrible virus. Somehow, since I made evil MySpace a home page, this other web page has become my home page. It started off simple enough, popping here and there... but now, it's infested my entire computer so that when I start up, without ever opting to open Explorer, this page comes up. Luckily, I have a cousin who can help me erase the whole thing... and a father who will help me buy a new one (which I needed anyways seeing as my computer is super ancient).

Irritating.

How did we create a world where people get their kicks from infecting other people's computers with a virus? Honestly, what sort of person does this? They have to be smart enough to create this type of program... so why don't they do something worthwhile instead like become a doctor or cure cancer. Why must they destroy things instead?

I've never even shoplifted. Not once. My friends all talk about their "shoplifting phases." I never felt the need to take something that wasn't mine.

As for life, it's good otherwise. The weekend was pretty uneventful. Friday night, LC, a teacher, had a party to raise funds for a Robotics team at the high school she teaches for. I think she raised about $1200.

Saturday we went up to Silver Spring for a friend of APK's birthday. We skipped on duckpin bowling with the group though. Yeah, didn't know what duckpin bowling was either- it's bowling with a little ball. Babe Ruth was a fan.
Napolean-complex much?

Afterwards, we headed to Chi-Cha Lounge for someone else's birthday. $20 for 2 drinks. I'm not sure it's that cool a place...

I spent the days laying out in Rose Park reading Sophie Kinsella's The Undomestic Goddess. This chick-lit book-a-week habit is rather financially strapping for me during the summer. Started the book on Saturday, finished it last night. The lead character's name is Sam. It's written in 1st person, obviously you can see how I felt quite the connection the lead character... and the gardner she falls in love with... and has sex with in the garden... and leaves her partnership with a top London law firm to be with... because, you know, that could happen in real life- right?

I didn't realize Sophie Kinsella is a pseudonym for Madeline Wickham. I was a bit depressed that I've now managed to read all of the Sophie Kinsella, Candace Bushnell, Plum Sykes, Anna Maxted, and Lauren Weisberger books. But wow, I can officially read 4 more books technically by Sophie Kinsella (or, actually, I guess I've technically read many books already by Madeline Wickham).

If I squint tightly...

sometimes it looks as if DC does indeed have prime fashion sense. But, the difference, I suppose, between DC and NYC is that the women in DC are curvier... healthier... more womanly. So the fashion does exist, you just have to squint to see it.

Ah! I feel bad for the guy. Definitely ordering a shirt. You should too.

'Screech' Sells Shirts to Keep His House

More than a bell is needed to save Dustin Diamond this time around. Diamond, best known as geeky Screech Powers on the 1989-1993 teen comedy series "Saved by the Bell," is selling T-shirts with his photo on them to try to raise $250,000 so he doesn't lose his gray two-story house under a foreclosure order.

"If the public didn't care, I as an entertainer wouldn't have been a success," he said.

Diamond, 29, is trying to sell nearly 30,000 shirts — at $15 or $20 (autographed) each — to supplement the income he makes as a standup comic so he doesn't have to move from his Port Washington home, about 25 miles north of Milwaukee. (more)

Kidney Bean There. Done That.

I went to GW Radiology this morning for a nuclear scan of my kidneys. I know I'm an adult and all, but I just can't bare to watch them put the IV into my arm. I can handle the pain, but the sight is completely another thing. I basically spent a large majority of this morning ignoring my left arm completely except to take a picture message of the IV to send to my mom with the subject "If I look at this, I'm going to vomit."

After injecting you with a diuretic to bring down your blood pressure, they use the IV to fill you with this drug that causes your kidneys to work. It contains some radioactive elements that allow the functioning to be caught on x-ray. The table you sit on is about my size. I asked the guy, while in a low blood pressure induced daze, "What do you put really fat people on?" He laughed and said, "You don't know how many people actually ask me that." You can't be more than 350 pounds to sit on it. And fat people don't x-ray as well, apparently.

30 minutes of not being able to move (amongst a gazillion little itches that only appeared because my body knows it's not allowed to do a thing about the itches) and needing to pee to save my life (since I was given a diuretic) led to the conclusion that my lower right kidney isn't responding. Two more scans to go. Luckily, GW's near my apartment. Damn kidney, I told it to lay off the pot today....

So, my mom tries to make me feel better by telling me that she just talked to her friend, a doctor, who says that kidney issues are easy to fix. Oh good. Thanks mom. But she doesn't stop there. Kidney issues like my lazy freaking lower right kidney can be fixed by inserting a stint into the artery. Now, I'm from a medical family so when my dad had his heart attack I was fully informed about stints being put in and all that other medical terminology (if I didn't hate blood so much, I'd probably make an okay doctor). So, I know what that means. Stint needed= Surgery. Holy Shit. Surgery. I've never ever had surgery. I don't want surgery. I'm scared sh**less of surgery. I am fully convinced I'll be the one in a million that something goes deathly wrong for... like the chick who wrote The First Wives Club during her routine plastic surgery treatment.

I just beggggggged my mom to promise to come up here and take care of me if I have to go under the knife. Me- think Zach Morris in that Saved By The Bell episode where he hurt his knee playing basketball and Lisa's mom had to operate.

In less overdramatic, APK and I went to the Klee opening at the Phillips last night. He's definitely an interesting artist more for his use of various media than anything else. Compositionally, only a couple of pieces really had the wow factor, and most of these were later works. The Curator said the most important thing to note is how you can't categorize his artwork as one genre because he tried so many different techniques... then she talked for entirely too long preventing us from attacking the free wine and cheese.

Tonight, we have a party to raise money for the Roosevelt Robotics team. The organizer is a teacher at Roosevelt, and this is definitely a great showing of how wonderful and motivated a person she is... maybe my stupid lazy kidney should take a cue from her.

Did You Know?

You can make custom postage at Zazzle.com? Here's what will be on my bill to the electric company this month.

Wedding Channel.com

So one of my friends from high school who attended one of the other private schools in Mobile was this gorgeous blonde bombshell. Sweet as she could be, but not the sharpest crayon in the box (I love that expression- from Jenny). Her daddy owned some company that made lots and lots of money. When we all got cars at 16, she got 2 cars. One for her beach house. One for her house in Mobile.

Like I said, she was just the nicest girl. But she always dated the most crude and insensitive men. Always hotter than hot, these guys. But just not people you'd want to bring home.

So when I was home and found out she married a hottie 39-year old widow with 2 teenage children, I was shocked. I suppose at 26, a tad flaky, well-groomed, and attractive many of my friends have become potential Trophy Wives. Goodness Apparently, he's very nice. They're having twins together.

Jenny forwarded me the link to another beauty from Bama's wedding website at weddingchannel.com. This time, smart and educated knockout ditches high school stud fiance for 50-year old, liver-spotted short Jewish man. I wasn't sure which one was her husband and which her father in the pictures- honestly.

But all of this talk of Trophy Wiving led me to start thinking about marriage in general. Am I at my prime now (although, I was probably at it right after backpacking Europe with a size-0 waistline and bronze glow)? Should I be out there in search of a husband to take care of me? Is this the point when women start to freak out? I'm freaking out. Should I start lying about my age?

My best friend Lyss will most likely be getting engaged by the end of the summer. She's been with her man for over 4 years though. He moved across the country from Boston to San Francisco to be with her. I need to remember all of this when I start to think about the ripple that is about to take place. First Chrissy and Whitney (with long term boys, I might add), and now it begins- the close friends start displaying the rocks on their fingers. Tick tock. I never want to be the "always the bridesmaid..." chick. I never thought I would.

So yeah, happy in my relationship with APK, but wondering if I should be hitting the gym and tanning bed and out there looking for old balls to take me to the Greek Island he owns and tell me I'm worth 2 million in the pre-nup.

No More Initials-

Yeah, Angelina, even I get confused sometimes... I once wrote about SC's party (meaning SG). SC e-mail's me that she didn't realize she had a party. So, for the rotating cast of characters, here's some "names."

APK- Well that's Alex P. Keaton (my significant other). So, he'll stay APK
SC- Let's call her Suave. Reminds me of the Hair Sniffer from way back when.
SG- I like Sabrina (ie Julia Ormond in Sabrina) She got this fabulous new haircut that reminds me of when Sabrina got back from Paris and had Harrison Ford fall at his knees for the new her.
IH-I'm going with Annie Oakley. Mainly because I have the funniest picture of her and my guy friend from Bama wearing straw cowboy hats at Stetson's.
JM- Oh, that's easy. The Major. As in Major Anthony T. Nelson. He was working at NASA when I first met him, and totally resembles the part.
AW- Angelina, my daaaarling.
AG- Peter. Because this will annoy him.

Okay, so that should simplify my blog a little. I'll use initials for others. Apologies readers.

Cooking Up Some Romance

I love playing Yenta!

I also love Extra's new watermelon gum (just wanted to throw that out there as I chew a piece typing this post).
But anyways-

Last night, SC and AG and APK came over to help me play Yenta to JK and SP. The setting was ideal for a casual Tuesday introductory meeting. Warm weather. Barbecued burgers and chicken and veggies. White, crisp wine. Rosemary Clooney in Brazil playing in the background. Witty conversation casually steered away from poker and Vegas and soccer by SC and I...

Yep. So, now,to see if I helped entice sparks between the two.

My mom likes to match make people. Do you think it's genetic? I have plenty of friends who couldn't care less if their friends end up single. Why am I such a romantic?

I'd love it-

If everyone really did have just one soulmate.

If somehow the world became covered in blooming red roses.

If love at first sight really could exist.

If Sinatra played in all restaurants over candlelight.

If all guys could ballroom dance like my father.

If looking in restaurant windows on a Friday or Saturday night looked like Valentine's Day with couples gazing in each others eyes.

So- I honestly hope that SK and SP work out. What a wonderful world this could be.

PMSing?

You are

What Rejected Crayon Are You?

I'm like the last remaining soul on the planet earth who's not found their place on MySpace yet. Okay, well, I waaaas the last remaining soul on the planet earth who'd not found their place on MySpace yet. Now I have a profile. And friends. With uploaded pictures and silly comments from the people I know. And a creative cursor- like this one.

Does anyone remember this really scary mind game from the 80s? I remember nothing about it except that all these parents were told to worn their parents not to participate. Something about how if you did one thing, then the next, then the next, you'd see this scary devil guy in your head and when everyone did it they saw the same person.

Is it possible MySpace is like that? Does everyone hear the same voice calling them back to the computer? Like the computer voice from the first word processing program on the box Macs that spoke any words you typed.

Just saying.

Weeeeeee! kend

I'm back to normal, sort of, after a hangover beyond hangovers yesterday. Blah.

Friday night, met AM and DF at La Tosca for some drinks and music. Watching a good dancer shimmy to the cover Gypsy Kings song, I realized she was belly dancing. I suppose butt-shaking is butt-shaking is butt-shaking. Sangria was yummy. AM is tiny. Teensy. About 4'10" and not more than a size 0 (if that). 3 girls together will inevitably discuss dietting. That's what we talk about. Diets and boys. Anyways, guess she's on what Marie Claire calls "the French Diet". She just didn't grow up eating low-fat. DF said she's the only skinny girl she's ever met who has all full-fat products in her fridge. She's never had a canned soup or a frozen dinner. So strange to me.... but I suppose when you don't see food as anything more than energy, you don't overeat.

Saturday, SG and I went to the Nats vs Phillies game. Got there an hour early AND still missed getting one of the 1500 bobbleheads they were giving out. Don't ask me why I was upset about this. I mean, what would I have done with the bobblehead anyways. There's just something to be said for the excitement of getting anything that's free.

Oh, so fatty 10 year old sitting in front of us at the game. We watched the mother allow this kid to eat ice cream, cotton candy, Cracker Jacks, a hot dog, and peanuts all before the 6th inning. No wonder there's obesity in America. Not to mention credit card debt. Hello! That's pushing $50 in crap food!

Saturday night Kate had her kickball team over for drinks starting at 6pm. I was upset that APK hadn't called or texted since he left for Vegas. My head is a terrible place for fears to end up. Such a mess, my thoughts. APK is not Jerk. He did text me... I didn't receive the text. He wasn't off hooking up with someone. Regardless, I didn't know. All I knew was there he was in Vegas. He didn't tell me he was meeting up with SC both Thursday and Friday nights (apparently Thursday was a last minute decision), so I took that info as "well, he must be doing other things he didn't tell me about too." Luckily, I repress emotions and get angry and self-destructive (rather than chug pints of Ben and Jerry's while watching An Affair to Remember). So, I declared myself single (SG said- single as in shopping for groceries with food on the shelf) and went out to drink. And drink. And drink. Quite a fun night. I definitely talk bigger than I act though (meaning, yeah I said I was single but I certainly didn't act like I was single).

3am- text to APK- "OUT drunk. Upset you've not called. Officially single tonight."
3am- text to SC- "APK didn't call me. I am ending it. Very upset."
6am- call from APK- "What does that mean? I'm sorry I didn't call. I texted you twice. Didn't you see the text. Did you do something tonight?" Me, after 30 minutes to one another "I think I'm still drunk. I need to go throw up. Can we talk later?"
9am- text to SG "Can't come to pool. Hungover beyond hungover."

I had to monitor my pee for the whole day anyways (ie, apologize to Kate that I had to keep a bin of urine in the fridge AND promise to fully sterilize the whole thing today). TMI?

GS, in phone conversation yesterday afternoon, "Wait, you're doing that today? It's going to be completely flammable!"

I assume my doctor will be calling to suggest AA for me at any moment.

Just got this in email

Friends of the National Theatre -Our SUMMER CINEMA this year is a tribute to a great directorBILLY WILDER: American Original Performances are on MONDAY EVENINGS at 6:30 pmin the Helen Hayes Gallery at the National Theatre1321 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW.Admission is FREE. FIRST SHOWING this coming MONDAY, June 12 at 6:30 pmSUNSET BOULVEVARDThe full schedule of films is here.

I Get Irritated-

Yeah, there's always something worse that could happen to me. I could have been told I had one week to live rather than be told that my kidney's could be damaged. Yes, I I could not have a car at all or have my engine break rather than the window motor. Yes, I could have had my identity stolen by some 17-year old thug out in Detroit to buy his girlfriend a Louis Vuitton handbag rather than have Fidelity cancel my 401K for no good reason and send me a check in the mail.

Yes- there are waaaaaaaaaay worse things that could happen. But telling me that really doesn't help at all, does it now? It really doesn't make my issues solve themselves. My car window didn't suddenly restore itself to proper working condition simply because I suddenly was happy that it wasn't my engine that died.

While it's wonderful to be thankful for all that one has, it doesn't do you any good to make light of the real daily issues in your own life.

Little Lost Boys

Oh these little lost boys we all keep finding and keep on bringing home with us-

What is it with us? We strong, beautiful, smart, interesting, well-dressed, well-loved, good friend, mature, responsible ladies. And them? These pitiful and emotionally needy men.

I'll tell you why- Or, at least, why I think we let our hearts be released to Neverland.

A lost boy WANTS to commit, but he just doesn't know that he can commit. He just doesn't know that he knows what commitment exactly is. He's not looking to cheat on you. He's not a player or a sleeze ball or an asshole really at all. He's smart. He's cute. He's giving... well, sometimes... well, mainly just sexually... but he's trying. He's stuck somewhere between wanting to try and be an adult in a committed relationship and totally freaking out because he's not sure he's capable of doing good by you. He's so scared of failure and so freaking out about failure that he'll push and push and push you away until you can't do anything but leave Neverland and allow yourself to be an adult.

They are adorable. When they need you, they are even more adorable. When they say sweet things, they are the most adorable of all. They hold this soft, whimpering little spot in your big heart. You just can't turn them away.

When they say sweet things, that sugary taste lasts in your mind forever.

They get lost again and again. They don't want to grow up.

From Wikipedia regarding "Peter Pan": The most apparent thematic thread in the story concerns "growing up" (or not), with the character of Peter wanting to remain a child forever in order to avoid the responsibilities of adulthood. "Peter Pan syndrome" has become a psychiatric term named by Dr. Dan Kiley to describe an adult who is afraid of commitment and/or refuses to act his age. It is also sometimes used to positively describe an innocent, childlike approach to life.

They're lost boys. And we love them. We date them. We have to have them. We save them when they need us. We hug them when they're good. We play Wendy to them. Finally, I suppose, we turn away and go back to the real world. Set to live life. And then they return, and they take us back to Neverland.

There ain't nothing like them.

Budget Living

So I'm learning how to budget my money. I know it may make me sound totally spoiled here, but I've just never ever had to budget before. I realized, as my dad put it when I announced my predicament on Sunday, I've realized there's a bottom to the well. I'm 26. I have a decent job. It's about time I started saving some money. The problem with me, as I've said before, is that I am a creature of habit. I have to put myself into a catastrophic not-a-penny-to-my-name state of mind to learn how to save. This means that even though I have enough money to live and buy more than one drink out every so often, I have to make sure I don't think that way or I'll totally blow my budget. Addictive personality that I am.

So step 1 was figuring out my disposable income minus pre-set bills like rent and utilities and my bi-weekly pedicures. APK looked at me, exasperated, over the bagel breakfast he was treating me to Sunday morning. I offered to pay using the change I'd emptied out of my cash cow (a piggy bank shaped like a cow). "Look, either you have to cut the pedicures down to once a month or you have to get another job. And you can't go spending $40 at Whole Foods everytime you go to someone's house for dinner."

Step 2 was talking to my dad once I figured out that I would have to change way too much about my life if I didn't get some financial aid from him. He was very receptive. Understood my wanting to have a savings account. Great guy, my dad.

Step 3 was looking at my bank statement and realizing that for everytime I run out of soda or Laughing Cow Light Swiss Cheese (my breakfast choice) and hit the grocery store, I purchase about $40 worth of unnecessary groceries. Monday night, I went to the SFW in Virgina and bought $70 worth of groceries including a 24-case and 6 bottles of soda. I wanted the chicken and dumpling soup for $2.50 a can. I bought 3 cans of the sale soup at $1.85 a can. When APK wanted to come to dinner last night, I offered him Stroganoff Hamburger Helper made with Boca fake ground meat (total cost $6). He was fine with it. Even after I sent him out with $2 in nickels and dimes to get skim milk. I guess he really likes me.

Step 4 was learning to pack my lunch for work. This saves me about $10 a day. Bringing my own soda can saves me $1.25 a day. One soda can costs roughly 25 cents if you buy the pack of 24 for $5.99. Buying the soda in a store or restaurant costs $1.50 or more. Honestly, I like knowing the calorie count of my lunch so it works out.

Step 5 is putting guilt on myself everytime I spend money on things like coffee (needed some this morning) and only bringing the amount of cash I'm planning on spending out with me to bars. Tonight, Rosa Mexicano, I'm bringing $20. That's 2 sangrias at $8 each and a tip on each. No food.

You live and learn I guess. I'll let you know how it goes.

6-6-06

I didn't even think about the fact that my ex's birthday is 6-6-76. He did these horrible impersonations of people, really spiteful and mean... but he thought they were comical. Looking back, his arrogance was definitely astronomical. One of his faces was this demon-like impersonation where he looked so evil that he caused me to stay up full nights (we'd just started dating and I couldn't stop thinking about whether or not I knew him well enough to have him in my bed). I never put it together that he was also born on the devil's day and would turn 30 today, 6-6-06. No wonder he brought the worst out in me.

APK's parents are celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary today too. Does anyone else think it's strange that my ex was born on the day his parents got married? I am trying not to analyze too much... but seeing as I fully believe in destiny and am very superstitious... it's hard to not think that I am not on a very good path.

You know how at the end of the Devil's Advocate, Al Pacino finds a new sin for Keanu Reeves to fall subject too... "Vanity, my favorite sin"... what if DC is the next chapter of sin for me?



One year ago right now I was in NYC, working at a completely different job, living in a totally different different apartment, and in a completely different relationship. I didn't even know I wanted to move to DC yet. I didn't know APK, SC, IH, SG, JM even existed. I hadn't even seen BG in 4 years. How'd I get here? And, if getting everything I wanted lead me to fail in my personal relationships in NYC (think job and apartment of my dreams, but without a great and supportive group of friends there... give or take a couple like AW and AC). Then, in DC, with a job and apartment and group of friends I love, plus an okay romantic relationship, is this why my health is failing?

I'm a little scared that, of all days, I'm going to the kidney doctor today. On 6-6-06.

Monday, Monday

Monday- overcast Monday. Blah.

Friday night, my original cluster met at LC's. APK was at a kickball party and unable to attend. Rather depressing. It's the end of an era... well a 6-month period at least. I think my original cluster is still planning on continuing. We're meeting at APK's next month. He wasn't there so it was easiest to put the hosting gig on him. Tehe.

LC makes the most delicious and addictive challah on the planet. It is so damn good. I've decided she must be making the dough with MSG. Turns out JS and IH know each other from high school. JS was a special guest at the dinner... I love special guests at cluster dinners. I think that's what keeps it interesting. Each host brings in people in their life, so you end up meeting a ton of people through the 13 people in your cluster. I also realized why it's so important that I start this Southern Jewish Cluster. Take JS and IH, both from Chicago, who met through Jewish Day School and know tons of Jews in common. In Mobile, I was one of 5 Jewish kids my age. 5. My Jewish network from Mobile alone is about 20 universally. My cousin knows APK from high school in Philly. My cousin's roommate (a friend from his high school) knows LC from Johns Hopkins.

Of the 5 people I know who are Jewish my year growing up in Mobile, I was the only one who moved above the Mason Dixon Line. Ones in Miami. Three are in Mobile. Ones in Birmingham. Great. My social network of people connected to me from Bama is not devised of Jews. I know plenty of people through people I knew in Mobile, but I certainly didn't grow up having Shabbat dinner with my friends from my Episcopalian High School. APK's the first Jewish guy I've ever really dated seriously.

I didn't even feel comfortable joining a Jewish sorority in college. I fit in better with the Christian girls from the South.

This is my first real experience being Jewish. Well, other than summer camp and going to Israel once when I was 16 (with Young Judae for 6 weeks). That's how many other Southern Jews are brought up as well.

I think it would be fun to be with people who can't play the Jewish geography game ultra well. I think it would be fun to admit, jointly, that this is out first time saying Kiddish with our peers.

Plus, I really just want an excuse to eat lots and lots of fried food.

PR, from Kentucky, and I are co-coordinating the group. We'll have a potluck the first month and then do Jazz on Jackson Place in August. I want to coordinate some Southern rock concerts and a brunch at Georgia Brown's too.

APK and I went to Wilson House on Saturday to view the collection of Rolls Royces. Quite divine. We went to a barbecue out in Rockville on Saturday afternoon and then to the Taft party in West Falls Church Saturday evening. APK said it was an unoffical tour of the DC suburbs.

Highlight of Saturday? An actual dance off took place in SS's living room at the Taft party. People actually tapped others to take their place on the dance floor. This certainly should be included in more parties. It had me laughing harder than the cupcakes decorated with mustaches or the "Pin the Tache on Taft" game.

Hung-over and over

Jazz on Jackson Place was HOT last night. Okay, I do mean the heat was a bit unbearable at the beginning. But the Decatur House one-sheet histories worked great as fans. We got there early enough to get a table, and with our group of 19 able to get drinks from the 2 bars without a line and gather throughout the tent, it almost seemed like we were the only people at the event. I'm still a bit shocked it's not gotten more attention. Even at the non-member admission price of $15, you get alcohol, jazz, and food included. That's the best deal in DC if you ask me. I guess I'm sort of happy that it's not become to sceneish. Feels like it's my secret to tell people.

I had to give an impromptu toast to APK and AG. I was shocked at how easy it actually was- "To APK and AG- with wishes for a year of fun, friends, and four aces in every poker hand."

I think the reason chicks find it sexy when a guy plays poker, watches sports, and plays golf is because it makes it easy to buy the dude gifts… and to make toasts… and to schedule alone time shopping or at the spa. If you know he's got poker ever Sunday night, you have a set weekly date to meet your best friend at Ann Taylor without feeling like you're excluding him.

But anyways-

After Jazz on Jackson Place ended at 8:30pm, we headed to Beacon Bar & Grill with hopes of getting onto the roof for some $4 martinis. The little drizzle caused the sky-top martini lounge to be closed, but the wonderful manager put together a table for our group of 11 (people filtered away after the event). I need to write him a thank you note.

Yesterday morning, I met with the Gesher City cluster coordinator to discuss my idea to start a Southern Jewish cluster. I'm excited to say I think it's actually going to happen. I had to write the enticing blurb for the new group to be sent out Tuesday. Here's what I wrote:

Do you believe that a Shabbat dinner is incomplete without fried okra and corn on the cob? Do you write a thank you note to your Seder host after Passover? This cluster is for anyone who is from the South (or Southern at heart) and Jewish. We can have Southern potluck dinners complete with corn bread and biscuits. We can go see Southern rock concerts together, visit historic Southern mansions in DC and Virginia, have brunch or cocktails at Southern restaurants, picnic in Southern style on the Mall, barbeque with hickory chips, and do any of your suggestions too! Most importantly, we'll form a Southern Jewish community here in DC where you can openly use "ya'll" in good company.

I find myself becoming more and more like this ex-DJ/ Bartender now in law school in New York who I dated briefly this past summer. He was not into drugs and barely into drinking. I only found out he was ever a DJ because on his desk was a CD with his picture on it… with a French title. He had released 2 CDs in 1998 in France, apparently. So I asked him why he liked being a DJ if he hated crowds and clubs. He told me it was his love of control. When he was in the DJ booth, he controlled the room. I thought that was sort of cool… and at the same time, a little sick. Looking into myself these days, I've found that I'm enjoying coordinating events and parties more than I have in the past. I wonder if this is a sign I'm trying to keep my life in order more.

Okay, I'm now past hung-over and into complete exhaustion.

Birthdays

I loooooooove birthdays. Mine, yours, everyone's birthday.

I love to give presents. I love to sing "Happy Birthday." I love the yellow cake with the better cream frosting in bright pink with yellow flowers that you buy at Safeway. I love balloons and birthday shots and waking someone up, if necessary, on the exact time of their birth.

I think I get this from my Mother. She always made such a big deal out of our birthday growing up. We had original and fun parties, and we always got amazing gifts... really thought out and personal gifts. My favorite party? A hair bow-making party. My mom hired a special craft artist who came in and taught us all to make bows.

So I take great pride in making sure that the people in my life have amazing birthdays.

My roommate moved here from London with very little furniture and definitely none of the little knicknacks that make a bedroom feel like home. For her birthday in February, I bought her several various throw pillows and created 2 general pieces of wall art to match her bedspread. For SC's birthday, I bought her a huge personalized Hershey bar at Hershey Park to be eaten at the bar when she held her birthday gathering. My friend AW received a signed book from Eleanor Herman inscribed "Hope you enjoy sex!"

Tonight, we are going to Jazz on Jackson Place to celebrate APK and AG's birthdays. I got APK a poker set and a Gockel print from the Olympics. We celebrated for APK on Friday night in Mobile. My mom got him a Marble Slab cake and a bunch of silly Alabama books like Jeff Foxworthy's Red is the Color of My True Love's Neck. Last night, APK and I barbecued and I bought him two cupcakes shaped to look like flowers. The yellow cake with lots of icing type. I said: "Doesn't this remind you of a birthday from your youth?" Jokingly, he responded: "Yeah, and a bowling alley." Hmmm... guess our cakes weren't as good down in Bama. I recall many a party with sugary icing and large cookie cakes.

I'm excited to celebrate with both of them tonight! Not to sound too much like a hallmark card, but I've always believed that a birthday is truly the only day that celebrates you. If I like you, I want to help remember you on your day!