I am a rule follower. It irritates me, but for the most part I do my civic duties. pay taxes (even on items that are not declared), I submit all necessary school paperwork on time, and when I parallel park I make sure that I am no futher that 18inches from the curb with my wheel turned. Yes, I am a sucker. The worst part of it is that I want others to follow the rules too. I flick off drivers who barrel through intersections and have been tempted to tattle on fellow students who don't pay their taxes.
The problem is that I don't know what my motivation for following the rules. I am not a religious person. Actually, I need to rephrase that, I am a person without a religion. I was five years old, when my mother wanted to baptize me. She comes from a very catholic family, and my sister's baptism went off without a hitch. I was different, and said "no." To her credit she respected my wishes. Of course, for 24 years she has been quite passive aggressive about the whole issue, hinting that I will burn in hell if I don't get baptized soon but that is for another day.
So even though I don't have a religion, I get guilted into going to mass on Sundays, well at least important Sundays or ones where you get toys. For example, I attended mass on Palm Sunday so I could make my palm frond cross. When I go to church, I go to the closest one down the street that has a hippie priest.
Since Evil-twin #2 was in town, we decided to go to Easter services together (maybe to redeem ourselves for Friday night frivolities). We got to the church a little late and so had to stand through the mass. Standing on the side, gave me good vantage point to watch all the parishoners. The following are some rules we should abide by:
-Do not make out with your significant other in the church.
-Sometimes make your offerings in change so you can hear the ushers jingle about.
-Try to learn when to stand up and when to kneel, even if you only go to church twice a year. It is too much pressure on the 85 year old lady to lead the whole congregation as her knees aren't what they used to be.
-Sing the hymns. If you don't pass the hymnal to someone who will.
-Teach your kid not to aimlessly roam around the church while the mass is proceeding.
Now how to get people to follow these rules is a whole other problem.
Monday, March 28, 2005
Girls night out (Beantown Edition)
I still haven't figured out why my visits to Boston are sooooo much better than when I was actually living there. This past weekend was no exception. Not knowing if I would be able to make it back for Evil Twin #1's birthday next weekend (work is insane lately), I thought that I should come up this past weekend just to play it safe.
After an uneventful Amtrak ride from Penn Station to Back Bay (this ride felt incredibly long after being spoiled by Japanese trains), I met up with Evil Twin #1 and her friend at a bar that was near Back Bay Station (many thanks to Evil Twin #1 for picking a place that was less than a block away!). I was slightly disoriented as I had just woken up from a nap on the train (moving vehicles make me very sleepy) and was a bit overwhelmed by all the lights and noise in the bar. I managed to find Evil Twin #1 and her friend who were surrounded by a group men. But not just any men... we're talking high quality Massholes hee-ah.
Ahhh. The Masshole. Now that I am back in NY, the Masshole is far more amusing to me than when I had to deal with them on a daily basis. There were three of us and three of them. I like to think of them as (i) the Dancer, (ii) the Groper, and (iii) Pee-tah (or Pete, as the Dancer and the Groper referred to him). I don't want to bore you with details, and I'm sure that Evil Twin #1 will want to chime in on this as well, so I'll just give you the highlights.
Let me just state, I am not currently on the prowl--I am lucky enough to have found someone that doesn't seem to mind my messiness and addiction to television and shares my love of puns and fine dining. But, it is so much fun to just hang with the girls and to see the sorts of things that guys will do/say in order to impress us (meaning ladies in general). Here are the best lines of the night:
After an uneventful Amtrak ride from Penn Station to Back Bay (this ride felt incredibly long after being spoiled by Japanese trains), I met up with Evil Twin #1 and her friend at a bar that was near Back Bay Station (many thanks to Evil Twin #1 for picking a place that was less than a block away!). I was slightly disoriented as I had just woken up from a nap on the train (moving vehicles make me very sleepy) and was a bit overwhelmed by all the lights and noise in the bar. I managed to find Evil Twin #1 and her friend who were surrounded by a group men. But not just any men... we're talking high quality Massholes hee-ah.
Ahhh. The Masshole. Now that I am back in NY, the Masshole is far more amusing to me than when I had to deal with them on a daily basis. There were three of us and three of them. I like to think of them as (i) the Dancer, (ii) the Groper, and (iii) Pee-tah (or Pete, as the Dancer and the Groper referred to him). I don't want to bore you with details, and I'm sure that Evil Twin #1 will want to chime in on this as well, so I'll just give you the highlights.
Let me just state, I am not currently on the prowl--I am lucky enough to have found someone that doesn't seem to mind my messiness and addiction to television and shares my love of puns and fine dining. But, it is so much fun to just hang with the girls and to see the sorts of things that guys will do/say in order to impress us (meaning ladies in general). Here are the best lines of the night:
- [after discussing the intricacies of being a real estate developer and the pros and cons of being a landlord] "[Evil Twin #2], you've got a really good head on your shoulders; you're going to do well in life."
- [before I knew what a dancing machine the Dancer was] "Women who wear glasses are smaaht and sexy."
- [after the Groper dipped me on the dance floor and i screamed in fear of being dropped on my head] "Don't worry, I won't drop you. You're as light as a feh-thah."
Yes, the Massholes have a way with words. They sure know how to woo the ladies...
Saturday, March 26, 2005
a brief synopsis of the evil-twins reunion
This entry is a very shortened version of what happened tonite. Apparently, the evil twins can reek havoc on any city they befall. Their target tonite, Boston. Their destination 33. Totally leading boys on, they gladly accepted many a free drink from boys, ie old men, hitting on evil-twin #1's friend v. Currently, they are too incapacitated to finish this entry, but rest assured details will follow.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
a night of drunken revelry
It's always sad when a coworker who is actually a friend (these are few and far between) leaves the firm. These days, it seems like they are dropping like flies. I guess the one good thing is the celebration that goes along with bidding friends farewell as they move on to greener pastures and their next adventure.
Last night, I organized a little get together at a bar/lounge that was close enough to walk to but far enough to keep those that are not truly interested in saying bon voyage away. Plus, a nasty mix of hail/snow/rain turned the sidewalks into a wintery slip & slide. The revelry started at 7:00 pm -- which proves how loved soon to be Ex-Coworker (XC) is and how much XC will be missed since it is rare that you can convince corporate lawyers to leave their desks before the "free" car ride home at 8:00 pm.
We started with the usual "I'll miss you when you're gone" and "What will you do now?" But after the first round of drinks the conversation turned to lighter subjects such as "What was the best prank you ever pulled?" I think that XC won that contest. XC recounted a story of a fellow student in jr high who used to "coerce" gumballs (the big, round, shiny kind that you get from the gumball machine) from classmates--pretty much, a gumball bully. XC quickly grew tired of having to provide said classmate with a daily gumball fix, so XC used a protractor to disect a red gumball, scooped out the inside, placed a wad of already chewed gum in the middle, put the two halves back together, and used a red marker to cover up the seam. When the offending classmate demanded a gumball, XC grudgingly handed over the carefully crafted masterpiece and took great joy in the bully's reaction. Remind me never to get on XC's bad side. XC's had many years since then to perfect the art of revenge. I shudder to think of what good-natured yet retaliatory pranks she has in mind for her last days here at the firm.
After the third round of drinks (yes, we are all light weights) we decided to call it a night. It was 10:30 pm and we had all stayed much later than we had planned. As we teetered down the steps -- the lounge was located on the second floor of a restaurant -- I somehow went from barely standing to stone cold sober and the unofficial mom for the night. I made sure that XC made it down the stairs ok (next time, I will pick a place on the ground floor). While putting my coat on, I looked outside and was shocked to see one of the members of our group slumped against the restaurant's storefront. When I opened the door to go outside, Drunken Coworker (DC) promptly fell over and hit her head on the granite step leading into the restaurant. Oh @#$%. I felt responsible (it's the catholic guilt) for getting DC drunk since I was the one who ordered DC a drink that night. How was I supposed to know that DC wouldn't be able to handle half a hurricane? It just seemed wrong that we were sipping cocktails and she was nursing a coke. Is it my fault that DC succumbed to peer pressure? Doesn't DC know that it's ok to say no?? I guess not.
XC picked DC up off the pavement and DC was babbling about having to go back to the office to authorize some documents. Easily slipping back into mom-mode I said that there was no way she was going back to the office--we were hailing her a cab and she was going home. While DC was protesting, DC's legs gave out and that's when I decided to get in a cab to make sure DC got into her apartment ok. I've never had to take care of anyone else before--I'm used to being the fool who has one too many (usually that means having 2 drinks total) and needs to be escorted to a cab. It is not an experience I hope to repeat. DC slurred her words as I asked her to give me her address. I had to hold her up as we walked into her building and I had to make sure that she didn't fall over in the elevator. I also had to tell her that "It's ok, you can cover that bruise up with your bangs." I was fine with all that. Having to hold back DC's hair while she was hunched over the kitchen sink -- yeah, DC couldn't even make it into the bathroom -- is asking too much.
The lesson that I've learned from all this? Make sure you go out with people that can handle more liquor than you.
Last night, I organized a little get together at a bar/lounge that was close enough to walk to but far enough to keep those that are not truly interested in saying bon voyage away. Plus, a nasty mix of hail/snow/rain turned the sidewalks into a wintery slip & slide. The revelry started at 7:00 pm -- which proves how loved soon to be Ex-Coworker (XC) is and how much XC will be missed since it is rare that you can convince corporate lawyers to leave their desks before the "free" car ride home at 8:00 pm.
We started with the usual "I'll miss you when you're gone" and "What will you do now?" But after the first round of drinks the conversation turned to lighter subjects such as "What was the best prank you ever pulled?" I think that XC won that contest. XC recounted a story of a fellow student in jr high who used to "coerce" gumballs (the big, round, shiny kind that you get from the gumball machine) from classmates--pretty much, a gumball bully. XC quickly grew tired of having to provide said classmate with a daily gumball fix, so XC used a protractor to disect a red gumball, scooped out the inside, placed a wad of already chewed gum in the middle, put the two halves back together, and used a red marker to cover up the seam. When the offending classmate demanded a gumball, XC grudgingly handed over the carefully crafted masterpiece and took great joy in the bully's reaction. Remind me never to get on XC's bad side. XC's had many years since then to perfect the art of revenge. I shudder to think of what good-natured yet retaliatory pranks she has in mind for her last days here at the firm.
After the third round of drinks (yes, we are all light weights) we decided to call it a night. It was 10:30 pm and we had all stayed much later than we had planned. As we teetered down the steps -- the lounge was located on the second floor of a restaurant -- I somehow went from barely standing to stone cold sober and the unofficial mom for the night. I made sure that XC made it down the stairs ok (next time, I will pick a place on the ground floor). While putting my coat on, I looked outside and was shocked to see one of the members of our group slumped against the restaurant's storefront. When I opened the door to go outside, Drunken Coworker (DC) promptly fell over and hit her head on the granite step leading into the restaurant. Oh @#$%. I felt responsible (it's the catholic guilt) for getting DC drunk since I was the one who ordered DC a drink that night. How was I supposed to know that DC wouldn't be able to handle half a hurricane? It just seemed wrong that we were sipping cocktails and she was nursing a coke. Is it my fault that DC succumbed to peer pressure? Doesn't DC know that it's ok to say no?? I guess not.
XC picked DC up off the pavement and DC was babbling about having to go back to the office to authorize some documents. Easily slipping back into mom-mode I said that there was no way she was going back to the office--we were hailing her a cab and she was going home. While DC was protesting, DC's legs gave out and that's when I decided to get in a cab to make sure DC got into her apartment ok. I've never had to take care of anyone else before--I'm used to being the fool who has one too many (usually that means having 2 drinks total) and needs to be escorted to a cab. It is not an experience I hope to repeat. DC slurred her words as I asked her to give me her address. I had to hold her up as we walked into her building and I had to make sure that she didn't fall over in the elevator. I also had to tell her that "It's ok, you can cover that bruise up with your bangs." I was fine with all that. Having to hold back DC's hair while she was hunched over the kitchen sink -- yeah, DC couldn't even make it into the bathroom -- is asking too much.
The lesson that I've learned from all this? Make sure you go out with people that can handle more liquor than you.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Moving on Up...
Just found out that once I get my own office (YAY!) I will be moving to the 16th floor--to be with the other super specialized attorneys at my firm. As one of the of counsels said to me, they thought it was "time to end the pretense that I am splitting my time between [super specialized area of law] and general real estate". I can't decide if I'm happy or sad about this.
I am ecstatic about having my own office. I will no longer have to deal with my current jerk of an office mate and I'll have space for the mountains of paper that come with this job. And I'll be on a floor where most people leave before 8:00 pm. On the other hand, I will no longer have the 7 floors currently separating me from the people that I deal with most. This means that I'll have to be much better about getting to work on time and that I will no longer be one floor away from free breakfast. I guess that I could walk up the 8 floors between my new office and the free fruit and lattes they provide to us each morning--that way I would get the exercise that I so direly need. But, who am I kidding? I will probably take the elevator to the 8th floor and then expend the energy needed to press the elevator button so that I can head up to 16.
This does not bode well for me fitting into the bridesmaid dress for that June wedding that I am in.
I am ecstatic about having my own office. I will no longer have to deal with my current jerk of an office mate and I'll have space for the mountains of paper that come with this job. And I'll be on a floor where most people leave before 8:00 pm. On the other hand, I will no longer have the 7 floors currently separating me from the people that I deal with most. This means that I'll have to be much better about getting to work on time and that I will no longer be one floor away from free breakfast. I guess that I could walk up the 8 floors between my new office and the free fruit and lattes they provide to us each morning--that way I would get the exercise that I so direly need. But, who am I kidding? I will probably take the elevator to the 8th floor and then expend the energy needed to press the elevator button so that I can head up to 16.
This does not bode well for me fitting into the bridesmaid dress for that June wedding that I am in.
Monday, March 21, 2005
St. Patty and the Captain
Life of a single gal cannot always be exciting. This past Thursday was St. Patty’s day and maybe you would be expecting a tale of drunken bravada. However, nothing like this happened. A few fellow students and I made our way to an authentic Boston Irish pub only to find a line of college revelers. Completely deterred, I decided to celebrate the green holiday with a slice of apple strudel (very Irish) at the Other Side Café.
When I was young lass, St. Patty’s day used to be a big deal. At school, my sister used to wear her special green tights and a turtleneck with cloverleafs, and she would be rewarded with buttons displaying ”Kiss me I’m Irish” in green letters. Once, my mom took us to see the parade and Chicago River flowing bright green. Inebriated adults pinched our cheeks and told my mother how cute we were.
So I am thinking about these past St. Patty’s day as I was doing laps in the community pool. It is the new exercise fad I am following. Months ago it was Tae kwon do, but now it is swimming. So I am reflecting as I cut through the water, is anything as good as it used to be? Things change and now I am no longer swimming because I want to be the fastest Desert Dolphin ever, but because I just do not want to have largest butt ever.
Fast forward to an hour later, and I am at the local grocery store. I am hungry and adding yams, lentils, cucumbers, and organic mesclun to my basket. Strolling down the aisles, I stop at the cold cereals. I see Captain Crunch Berry (Now to make the story better I should have said Lucky Charms, but I am not a pro so...) and I feel compelled to drop it into my basket. I check out and go home to make a healthy hearty lentil soup. After my soup I am still hungry and feel a dessert is in order. In the eighties, Captain Crunch berries were just pink and now they are pink, purple and aqua. I pour my Lactaid on them and dig in. MMMMM. Still sugary and delicious. And now there is an improvement: the ratio of berries to crunches has risen. Four bowls later, a full tummy, and a completely shredded roof of my mouth, I fall asleep on the couch with the television blaring.
When I was young lass, St. Patty’s day used to be a big deal. At school, my sister used to wear her special green tights and a turtleneck with cloverleafs, and she would be rewarded with buttons displaying ”Kiss me I’m Irish” in green letters. Once, my mom took us to see the parade and Chicago River flowing bright green. Inebriated adults pinched our cheeks and told my mother how cute we were.
So I am thinking about these past St. Patty’s day as I was doing laps in the community pool. It is the new exercise fad I am following. Months ago it was Tae kwon do, but now it is swimming. So I am reflecting as I cut through the water, is anything as good as it used to be? Things change and now I am no longer swimming because I want to be the fastest Desert Dolphin ever, but because I just do not want to have largest butt ever.
Fast forward to an hour later, and I am at the local grocery store. I am hungry and adding yams, lentils, cucumbers, and organic mesclun to my basket. Strolling down the aisles, I stop at the cold cereals. I see Captain Crunch Berry (Now to make the story better I should have said Lucky Charms, but I am not a pro so...) and I feel compelled to drop it into my basket. I check out and go home to make a healthy hearty lentil soup. After my soup I am still hungry and feel a dessert is in order. In the eighties, Captain Crunch berries were just pink and now they are pink, purple and aqua. I pour my Lactaid on them and dig in. MMMMM. Still sugary and delicious. And now there is an improvement: the ratio of berries to crunches has risen. Four bowls later, a full tummy, and a completely shredded roof of my mouth, I fall asleep on the couch with the television blaring.
On with the show
This Friday, I met up with a law school friend (LSF) and she and I went to see a friend of her friend dj at what was touted as a "south african" bar. First off, I couldn't for the life of me figure out what made this bar south african... It seemed like any other NY bar: people trying to look cool yet bored sitting around low tables with candles dimly lighting their faces while sipping $10 cocktails with names like "muddled cucumber and sake martini." This place even had a "smoking room" in the back that was enclosed in glass. There was no segregation between whites and non-whites. I guess they did separate the smokers from the non-smokers... I just don't get it. It seems like every bar/lounge needs to have a shtick these days. But "south african"? Come on.
Anyways, while sipping my cucumber sake martini (it was actually quite tasty), LSF and I were entertained by a couple making out on one of the couches. This was amusing at first, but 48 minutes later after she had unbuttoned his shirt and he was blatantly copping a feel, I was bored by their antics. Another of LSF's friends was about to throw cake at the couple--while this would have been highly entertaining, technically, that would have been assault by cake--but I talked her out of it. The couple hardly ever came up for air over the course of their 48 minute show. They did stop to gulp some beer and sip at cocktails, but then they went at it again. I concluded that they were exhibitionists because there is no way that they could have been comfortable on the Ikea couch that they had claimed as their own; that and how the guy kept looking up every once in a while to scan the room to see if anyone was watching. Gross. When I left at around 1:00 am, they were still going at it (1 hour and counting).
Watching them was like watching a bad movie -- but at least I didn't have to pay $11 and didn't feel so bad about walking out in the middle of their show.
Anyways, while sipping my cucumber sake martini (it was actually quite tasty), LSF and I were entertained by a couple making out on one of the couches. This was amusing at first, but 48 minutes later after she had unbuttoned his shirt and he was blatantly copping a feel, I was bored by their antics. Another of LSF's friends was about to throw cake at the couple--while this would have been highly entertaining, technically, that would have been assault by cake--but I talked her out of it. The couple hardly ever came up for air over the course of their 48 minute show. They did stop to gulp some beer and sip at cocktails, but then they went at it again. I concluded that they were exhibitionists because there is no way that they could have been comfortable on the Ikea couch that they had claimed as their own; that and how the guy kept looking up every once in a while to scan the room to see if anyone was watching. Gross. When I left at around 1:00 am, they were still going at it (1 hour and counting).
Watching them was like watching a bad movie -- but at least I didn't have to pay $11 and didn't feel so bad about walking out in the middle of their show.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
greetings from. . .
Actually, I'm sitting at my desk in NYC, but my office mate is out "sick" today, so I thought that I'd get started on letting ya'll know about my vacation.
This is a picture of one of the most popular temples in Kyoto. It's really pretty, but not as cool as some of the others that we (the boy and I) saw on our trip. It's too bad that you can only take pictures of it and can't walk through it, or get anywhere near it. This is actually a recreation. The original temple burned down in the 1950s and they reconstructed it.
Kinkakuji (Golden) Temple, Kyoto, Japan
Our favorite temple was probably Eikan-do which is also in Kyoto. I don't have pictures back yet, but as soon as I do, I'll be sure to post a link.
This is a picture of one of the most popular temples in Kyoto. It's really pretty, but not as cool as some of the others that we (the boy and I) saw on our trip. It's too bad that you can only take pictures of it and can't walk through it, or get anywhere near it. This is actually a recreation. The original temple burned down in the 1950s and they reconstructed it.
Kinkakuji (Golden) Temple, Kyoto, Japan
Our favorite temple was probably Eikan-do which is also in Kyoto. I don't have pictures back yet, but as soon as I do, I'll be sure to post a link.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Big in Japan
2 weeks of vacation should be restful right? Well, not when you are lugging way too much luggage all over the land of the rising sun. I used to pride myself on my ability to "pack light." However, packing for this trip at 6 am (after working at the office until 1:30 am), when super shuttle was supposed to be at my apartment at 7 am was not the best idea. I packed way too many t-shirts (forgetting that weather.com had predicted only mildly warmer temps in Japan), a sufficient amount of underwear, somehow brought along a copy of the Metro newspaper, forgot my first aid kit (this is important) and forgot to bring the charger for my ipod. After 14 hours on the most cramped and crowded United flight ever, we landed in Tokyo, Narita intl. airport.
Brief synopsis:
5 days in Tokyo -- crazy, clean, packed with people
3 days in Kyoto -- serene, clean, packed with temples and shrines
3 days in Osaka -- not too crazy, but still saw some pimps and prostitutes
1 day in Nara -- pampered in a ryokan (a traditional japanese inn)
1 day in Miyanoshita/Hakone -- failed attempt to see Mt. Fuji
+ side trips to Kobe and Himeji
Total: one fantastic (yet exhausting) vacation
One of the best parts about Japan. . . I was taller than almost all of the women and even some of the men.
More details on my international excursion to follow...
Brief synopsis:
5 days in Tokyo -- crazy, clean, packed with people
3 days in Kyoto -- serene, clean, packed with temples and shrines
3 days in Osaka -- not too crazy, but still saw some pimps and prostitutes
1 day in Nara -- pampered in a ryokan (a traditional japanese inn)
1 day in Miyanoshita/Hakone -- failed attempt to see Mt. Fuji
+ side trips to Kobe and Himeji
Total: one fantastic (yet exhausting) vacation
One of the best parts about Japan. . . I was taller than almost all of the women and even some of the men.
More details on my international excursion to follow...
Monday, March 14, 2005
Two fair maidens, a merchant, a giant and a leprechaun
Once upon a time, in the state of Massachusetts lived a maiden named Evil-twin #1. Although she was not the fairest maiden in the land, she had her moments and she yearned for a life in the world. Unfortunately, her wicked boss kept her locked up in a tower and commanded she work all day and all night. When she was allowed to leave, she would trudge her way in the snow back to her hovel which she shared with three other maidens. At her hovel, an enchanted machine emitted sounds and pictures so compelling, it kept her from having the social life she so desired.
One day, Thursday to be specific, a young shepherdess, who was locked in the tower too, one floor above her, managed to steal the keys to the gate. The two girls fled the tower, not knowing what to do next.
"There is a royal ball, in which we can meet tomorrows future princes. They are graduate students from the land of Harvard and MIT, a place where wise people are made. A fairy sent out a letter to all, proclaiming women and men shall congregate in one place and forced to talk to each other as 1/20th of the sand in the hourglass falls. She will use her matchmagik to hook us up," said evil-twin #1.
"We do not know if we both can enter,"said the shepherdess. "Why don't we venture into the city and see what adventure may lie yonder."
So off to the city, two maidens went. They stopped at the Parish Cafe for food and libations. Talking and giggling they realized there were many places they could visit. The first place was too oddly lit, and filled with ogres and trolls. The second place was much better suited for their needs. They sat at the bar drinking magical potions called: white crantini, pedro martini, strawberry lemonade, and razzmapolitian. Sipping their drinks, the shepherdess noticed a handsome merchant at the other end of the bar. Evil-twin #1 looked over and approved, but it appeared it might be hopeless as there were a sea of people serving as a forcefield between them. The shepherdess batted her eyes a few times, but was it working? Finally, the merchant approached the two maidens and said "We are going across the street, would you like to join us. "
"Of course not, " said evil-twin #1. "We don't even know your name."
Remembering his manners he introduced himself and gave them a number by which to contact him. The shepherdess thought it only fair that she give him her number as well. However she did say, "We will stay here until we finish our potions. You go on ahead if you like."
So the merchant went off across the street, and maidens stayed behind. A few minutes later a man approached them. "Haven't I seen you before?" he asked the shepherdess.
The ladies laughed for they had only heard of using lines like this before.
"No, you have not, " she replied.
"Oh," he replied abashedly. He introduced himself, and then asked "We are going across the street, would you like to join us?"
The shepherdess was very much excited to go across the street to meet her handsome merchant, so agreed to walk over with man. When she got off the barstool, she was shocked to realize that the man was in fact a leprechaun. He barely stood eye level and his freckles and flaming red hair was the give away. Although he offered to pay for the girls' tab, they refused as not to give any mixed signals. So the three of them donned their cloaks and headed to the next tavern. The leprechaun opened the door for them, and parted ways to find his friends.
In the tavern, the merchant was excited to see the two girls and rapidly introduced his friends, a lawyer, and a giant. They bought the girls fizzy drinks called vodka tonics and tried to keep the conversation lively. The giant stood to the side for a while, but started talking with evil-twin #1. They both enjoyed board games, like Scrabble. They talked about books they had read and if any of them had any merits. And of course, they squabbled about politics.
Deep into their conversation, the leprechaun came and approached them at the bar. "Guess your busy," he said. "But if you ever want to finish OUR conversation, call me." He passed evil-twin #1 his business card.
While the giant was taken aback, evil-twin #1 was not phased and put the card in her wallet. The night continued on with more drinks and laughter. The merchant and the shepherdess were becoming an item as the lawyer kept them entertained, and evil-twin#1 and the giant kept talking about nonsense. Soon the lights began to wane and they all knew it was time to return home. So they all parted ways, taking carriages to the far corners. Will they meet again? Guess we'll have to wait and see.
One day, Thursday to be specific, a young shepherdess, who was locked in the tower too, one floor above her, managed to steal the keys to the gate. The two girls fled the tower, not knowing what to do next.
"There is a royal ball, in which we can meet tomorrows future princes. They are graduate students from the land of Harvard and MIT, a place where wise people are made. A fairy sent out a letter to all, proclaiming women and men shall congregate in one place and forced to talk to each other as 1/20th of the sand in the hourglass falls. She will use her matchmagik to hook us up," said evil-twin #1.
"We do not know if we both can enter,"said the shepherdess. "Why don't we venture into the city and see what adventure may lie yonder."
So off to the city, two maidens went. They stopped at the Parish Cafe for food and libations. Talking and giggling they realized there were many places they could visit. The first place was too oddly lit, and filled with ogres and trolls. The second place was much better suited for their needs. They sat at the bar drinking magical potions called: white crantini, pedro martini, strawberry lemonade, and razzmapolitian. Sipping their drinks, the shepherdess noticed a handsome merchant at the other end of the bar. Evil-twin #1 looked over and approved, but it appeared it might be hopeless as there were a sea of people serving as a forcefield between them. The shepherdess batted her eyes a few times, but was it working? Finally, the merchant approached the two maidens and said "We are going across the street, would you like to join us. "
"Of course not, " said evil-twin #1. "We don't even know your name."
Remembering his manners he introduced himself and gave them a number by which to contact him. The shepherdess thought it only fair that she give him her number as well. However she did say, "We will stay here until we finish our potions. You go on ahead if you like."
So the merchant went off across the street, and maidens stayed behind. A few minutes later a man approached them. "Haven't I seen you before?" he asked the shepherdess.
The ladies laughed for they had only heard of using lines like this before.
"No, you have not, " she replied.
"Oh," he replied abashedly. He introduced himself, and then asked "We are going across the street, would you like to join us?"
The shepherdess was very much excited to go across the street to meet her handsome merchant, so agreed to walk over with man. When she got off the barstool, she was shocked to realize that the man was in fact a leprechaun. He barely stood eye level and his freckles and flaming red hair was the give away. Although he offered to pay for the girls' tab, they refused as not to give any mixed signals. So the three of them donned their cloaks and headed to the next tavern. The leprechaun opened the door for them, and parted ways to find his friends.
In the tavern, the merchant was excited to see the two girls and rapidly introduced his friends, a lawyer, and a giant. They bought the girls fizzy drinks called vodka tonics and tried to keep the conversation lively. The giant stood to the side for a while, but started talking with evil-twin #1. They both enjoyed board games, like Scrabble. They talked about books they had read and if any of them had any merits. And of course, they squabbled about politics.
Deep into their conversation, the leprechaun came and approached them at the bar. "Guess your busy," he said. "But if you ever want to finish OUR conversation, call me." He passed evil-twin #1 his business card.
While the giant was taken aback, evil-twin #1 was not phased and put the card in her wallet. The night continued on with more drinks and laughter. The merchant and the shepherdess were becoming an item as the lawyer kept them entertained, and evil-twin#1 and the giant kept talking about nonsense. Soon the lights began to wane and they all knew it was time to return home. So they all parted ways, taking carriages to the far corners. Will they meet again? Guess we'll have to wait and see.
Monday, March 07, 2005
My weekend
So my roommates and I threw a party this past weekend. A soire if you must. We prepared classy food items, cleaned the apartment, and required guests to bring liquor, well wine to be specific. We are grown up after all and BYO Budweiser is sooo college. It was a party in which we emulated that upper middle class twenty-something urban individuals so prominently featured in movies and television.
The mood was set with low lights and candles around the room. A sample of easy listening bossa nova emanated from the ipod/speaker/sound system. Our friends arrived fashionably late, in a variety of hip outfits and bottles of wine in brown paper bags. Girls wore sleek jeans, sexy lacy tops, blazers and boots. Boys wore loose fitting jeans, button-down shirts or turtleneck sweaters, and loafers. People munched on appetizers and balanced wine glasses in their hands. Some chatted on the sofa, others stood in circles talking about work or the movies.
In one corner, we had set up a wine tasting game. (For those of you who attended: they were both pinot noirs, number one was more expensive from the Willamette Valley in Oregon, and number two was from France.) Friends goaded each other into trying to answer incorrectly.
As the night progressed and bottles were piling up in the recycling bin, different circles of friends began comingling. Those who are eccentric, and you know who you are, fulfilled their duties by keeping me highly entertained with plans of their bookstore/discotech. In kitchen, I spent my time sipping wine, shooting the breeze with old friends and new ones.
At the end of night after most of the guests parted ways,I convinced some guy to slow dance with me to Journey's "Open Arms." Steve Perry's raspy voice, 5 glasses of red, and twirling around the room took me back to the 7th grade when I got to slow dance with Eric S. at the Y.I.S.S. Junior High's Spring Social. I wonder where he is now?
Two of my roommates and I decided to leave the cleaning to the next morning, and snacked on leftover appetizers while draining the last bottles of wine. The party was a success. We trudged into our rooms for a well earned sleep.
Sunday morning I woke up at 8:30am because I forgot to pull the blinds the night before. Boo! But I did wake up hangover free. Horay! I was a little bit sleepy, but staying in bed just was not going to work. I grudgingly left my room, to make my way to the living room. First I attempted to clean up, but realized most of my roommates (except for the one with a meeting that morning) were sleeping. So instead I dragged our TV back into the living room to watch Spartan. (A fantastic movie by the way.) Slowly everyone emerged from their rooms, and the cleaning frenzy began.
Then my roommates plus one boyfriend congregated into the living room with the Sunday Times and breakfast. They read out loud stories of serial killers and Mary Kate Olsen's influence on fashion. Later that day after naps, we reconvened to watch the Terminal. This movie was ridiculously awful, but we sat through it with our own running commentary.
I attempted to work in the evening. My roommate, an elementary school teacher-to-be, distracted me with a tween novel. I read "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" cover to cover, fully aware that I was twice the age of the characters in the story and three times the age of its average reader.
So here I am Monday morning, extending my weekend by writing this blog. It was a fantastic weekend of: wine, friends, dancing, an Olsen twin story, sleep, a good book and no work.
The mood was set with low lights and candles around the room. A sample of easy listening bossa nova emanated from the ipod/speaker/sound system. Our friends arrived fashionably late, in a variety of hip outfits and bottles of wine in brown paper bags. Girls wore sleek jeans, sexy lacy tops, blazers and boots. Boys wore loose fitting jeans, button-down shirts or turtleneck sweaters, and loafers. People munched on appetizers and balanced wine glasses in their hands. Some chatted on the sofa, others stood in circles talking about work or the movies.
In one corner, we had set up a wine tasting game. (For those of you who attended: they were both pinot noirs, number one was more expensive from the Willamette Valley in Oregon, and number two was from France.) Friends goaded each other into trying to answer incorrectly.
As the night progressed and bottles were piling up in the recycling bin, different circles of friends began comingling. Those who are eccentric, and you know who you are, fulfilled their duties by keeping me highly entertained with plans of their bookstore/discotech. In kitchen, I spent my time sipping wine, shooting the breeze with old friends and new ones.
At the end of night after most of the guests parted ways,I convinced some guy to slow dance with me to Journey's "Open Arms." Steve Perry's raspy voice, 5 glasses of red, and twirling around the room took me back to the 7th grade when I got to slow dance with Eric S. at the Y.I.S.S. Junior High's Spring Social. I wonder where he is now?
Two of my roommates and I decided to leave the cleaning to the next morning, and snacked on leftover appetizers while draining the last bottles of wine. The party was a success. We trudged into our rooms for a well earned sleep.
Sunday morning I woke up at 8:30am because I forgot to pull the blinds the night before. Boo! But I did wake up hangover free. Horay! I was a little bit sleepy, but staying in bed just was not going to work. I grudgingly left my room, to make my way to the living room. First I attempted to clean up, but realized most of my roommates (except for the one with a meeting that morning) were sleeping. So instead I dragged our TV back into the living room to watch Spartan. (A fantastic movie by the way.) Slowly everyone emerged from their rooms, and the cleaning frenzy began.
Then my roommates plus one boyfriend congregated into the living room with the Sunday Times and breakfast. They read out loud stories of serial killers and Mary Kate Olsen's influence on fashion. Later that day after naps, we reconvened to watch the Terminal. This movie was ridiculously awful, but we sat through it with our own running commentary.
I attempted to work in the evening. My roommate, an elementary school teacher-to-be, distracted me with a tween novel. I read "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" cover to cover, fully aware that I was twice the age of the characters in the story and three times the age of its average reader.
So here I am Monday morning, extending my weekend by writing this blog. It was a fantastic weekend of: wine, friends, dancing, an Olsen twin story, sleep, a good book and no work.
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