Never Gone. . .

Last night, I escaped from the office at 7:30 and met up with BF for a very quick dinner of street meat (the Kwik Meal cart on the SE corner of W 45th St and Avenue of the Americas) followed by half price pastries at the Au Bon Pain on W 50th St, just west of Avenue of the Americas. Why the rushed dining? Because we had to be at Radio City Music Hall for the 8:00 pm performance of. . . the BACKSTREET BOYS!!

With the exception of the BU campus on the first "warm" day of the season, I have never seen so many scantily clad girls/women in one place. I definitely felt out of place, especially since I was coming straight from work--but not as out of place as BF. There were at least 20 girls for every guy there. BF and I could not agree on the reasons why there were any men at all in the audience. I thought that most were dragged there by their girlfriends (although BF needed very little prodding before agreeing to accompany me to last night's performance). He thought that most of the men in the audience were gay. In either case, it was a GREAT concert.

BSB were certainly back, although looking a bit long in the tooth. The "cute" one (Nick) was a bit pudgy and was sweating profusely during their highly aerobic and intricate dance sequences. AJ can still belt out the tunes, Kevin (who used to be my favorite, yes I had a favorite backstreet boy) looked silly in cut off cargo pants with doc martens--time to turn in the skater punk look, Kev, you are over 30 and are an old man now. Brian was almost pulled off the stage by an over-eager fan.

Compared to the jingle ball concert we went to back in 1996, the boys were doing more snapping of fingers and gesticulating wildly while singing, and not nearly enough choreographed dance moves. But when they danced, oh could they dance. I found myself singing along to their classics such as As Long as You Love Me and Quit Playing Games with My Heart. BF even liked their remix of All I Have to Give with the Human League song Human. BF even thanked me for buying the tickets and said that he had a good time. When I asked him who his favorite Backstreet Boy was, he said that he had to plead the fifth. When pressed, he admitted that he liked Howie because he is the most normal. Overall, it was a highly entertaining event, if not for the boys, then for BF's attempt to suppress evidence of enjoying the show.

Ms. Communication

Friday night, I met up with one of my best friends from high school (HSF). I dated her brother for 7 years (an eternity) and it's always kinda awkward when we talk about boys and such. This time, there was no awkwardness. Maybe it's because she has been dating the same guy for about 8 months (her longest relationship to date!), but the conversation turned to boys and commitment.

HSF has put a one year expiration date on her current relationship. When I asked why one year, she responded by saying that if her boyfriend didn't know if he wanted to marry (?!?) her by then, then it's time to move on. I didn't realize that HSF was so eager to get hitched. Even so, when I asked why the need to get married, she looked at me as though I had grown an extra body part. It may because that statement was not something that she would have expected from me 2 years ago (when I was still dating her brother). In fact, I was one of those crazy girls that planned her wedding (despite the absence of an engagement ring) down to the type of chairs I would want at my reception.

I guess I've done a complete 180° and am not looking to settle down--it's great being a single gal in NYC. Or maybe I'm still smarting from the last relationship and don't want to feel dependent on anyone. It's probably a combination of the two. It saddens me to think that relationships have a limited shelf life (much like most dairy products) before they go bad. As ET#1 and Frenchie (aka IR) will attest, it seemed as though BF and I were more like spoiled milk than a loving couple this weekend.

I had asked BF to join ET#1, Frenchie and me for Korean BBQ in K-Town. He passed. When I pressed him to join us for Karaoke afterwards, he wouldn't commit. He said that he "would call me later about Karaoke." To me that sounded like, "I am not going to say that I will meet up with you later because if I do then you will hold me to it. I will call you later and if I am in the mood, I will join you." I proceeded to lay on the guilt trip and said, "I never ask you to do anything for me. I'm asking you to come karaoking with us tonight. It's really important to me and I really want you to go." NO EFFECT on him at all. This totally pissed me off and I rounded up ET#1 and we went merrily on our way to meet Frenchie for some BBQ, booze and singing.

ET#1 said that BF said that he would be joining us for karaoke later (at this point, I regressed to the 4th grade and was no longer on speaking terms with BF). But, he never told me any of this. He said that he would call me later. ET#1 made a point of telling BF that we would be karaokeing at around 9:00/10:00 pm and that he should not be late. We didn't start karaokeing until 10:30 pm. BF hadn't called, and when I checked my voicemail at 11:00 pm, there were no messages. So, I assumed that he was not joining us for a night of singing sappy love songs. We left the karaoke place at around 12:30 am and proceeded to walk towards Times Square so that we could drop Frenchie off at her hotel. I check my phone, still no messages. Alas, no one is perfect, not even BF. Then, at around 12:45, my phone rings and it is BF. He is mad pissed. He's been trying to get in touch with me since 11:00 pm (but, I had no reception, thus the missed call did not register on my Sprint PCS phone) . He had been killing time in Times Square for the past 1.5 hours and was upset that I didn't leave him the address of the karaoke place.

Am I to blame, dear readers? I think not. He never said he was coming. He did say that he would call. He didn't call until well after the time we said we would be at the karaoke place. Was it my responsibility to call him to ask if he was joining us? ET#1 and Frenchie seemed to think that I did no wrong. Do you agree?

A Day at Singing Beach

V and I could no longer take the sterile air-conditioned environment of the lab. We needed to bust out into the outdoor world of sun and fun. Yesterday, we made a day of it. We came into work in the morning, set up a few things for later that evening, and then hopped on the train. It was over 90 degrees F with a dew point of 65. Heat waves could be seen radiating off the blacktop. A perfect day to go north to Manchester-by-the-Sea.

The commuter rail line train was a pleasant experience. V read her book Freakenomics, and I listened to my MP3 player drifting in and out of conscience. My legs were glued to vinyl seating, but at least it provided some friction so that I would not slide off the seat as I was napping.

We trudged our way to Singing Beach from the train stop. After an eternity, we made it. The soft sand was hot and squishy underneath my feet. I doused another layer of SPF 30 Kiss my Face organic sunblock on my body. We spread out our towels on the sand about 10 feet from the water's edge. V choose to sunbathe and nap. I read the Improper Bostonian and marked all the hot spots I needed to visit. Reading started to become too taxing so I put the magazine away and got some sun on my pasty tummy.

With my eyes closed, I could hear the waves crashing, children playing, and a seagull stealing an almond butter and jam sandwich out of my backpack. A couple of teen girls sat nearby and here are some memorable quotations:

"Oh my god. That's a great suit. You look so skinny. Don't you think we look skinnier when we're together?"

"Um... That skirt is interesting. It looks like shorts because it clings to your butt."

"Do you think other people will think it is weird that we coordinate our outfits with each other?"

"Don't worry my jean skirt is from Abecrombie. It's cute and not like yours."

"I don't think you can go to that yacht club party. I mean are you a member?"

"You don't have to be a member if you are invited."

The girls disappeared to get some frozen yogurt. V and I soaked our feet in the cold Atlantic water and had to pack up to head back to Boston. The walk back to the train station seemed so short. I was solar powered, reenergized to face the week and night of work.

Sappy Sad Songs Soothe Souls

This weekend and post is dedicated to our very loyal reader, IR.

Three weeks ago, IR emailed the Evil Twins to tell us she would be in New York City for the week and could play on Saturday. I have not seen her in 7 months because she lives on the other side of the pond. Excited to see her again, I rented a car for the weekend and drove down to the city. The drive was exhilirating. I had time to replay recent events in my life and enjoy the warm 65 mile an hour breeze. I anticipated all the fun and news I had to share with IR information that cannot be transmitted via e-mail or phone.

We met IR in K-town and hungrily walked to a Korean barbecue joint. I am always amazed how time has no effect on some friendships. After an initial "what have you been up to," we spent our time eating charred meats and rice talking about the nonsense of life.

IR had requested a night of karoke, but before that could be begin, we thought we should try to lubricate our throats with strawberry yogurt flavored soju. While handling being the only non-asian person in the bar quite well, IR could only drink couple of shots of the sticky sweet concotion.

When we were in college, karoke, or music rooms, as they are called in Korean, were fairly shady operations. A hipster son would normally lead you to your room, while his mother ran the cash register. No drinks were allowed and the number of songs in english were limited. This Saturday, we went to Chorus, which had once been a place we frequented in college. I was shocked when I walked off the frightening freight elevator to emerge into an ultra modern foyer. With gray curved slatted walls and different colored neon lights, it looked more like the Starship Enterprise than a music room house. They had a wide variety of beverages, even alcoholic ones, available. However, little else changed as we were lead to our room with black pleather couches and a dim disco light.

It always takes time to cue up the songs. You don't want to start with something too difficult, and every song you look at seems only okay because you are sure if you keep leafing through the song book you'll find your golden hit. We were fortunate that between the three of us we have no shame and so at least embarrassment was not a factor in choosing the songs. Tempo also plays a key role in song selection. For example, after a heart felt ballad such as Richard Marx's "Right Here Waiting for You," you should follow it up with something upbeat such as "Locamotion" by Little Eva.

Lots of risky choices were made that night. ET#2 and IR did a version of "In da Club" by 50 cent. I attempted to rap JayZ's part in "Crazy in Love." Conclusion: Rapping is not only a cardiovascular work out, but also extremely difficult to keep up with even if you think you have the words memorized. Teen pop ido standards are much easier to handle. Backstreet Boys, Christina Aguilera, and Britney Spears all made an apperence that night. As a matter of fact, IR's poignant and somewhat off key rendition of "Everytime" was the highlight of the evening.

Maybe it is our age, maybe it was our mood, or maybe they are just easier to sing, my favorite songs for the evening were all about love gone wrong. Years and years of being inundated by Musak in elevators and malls had prepared us for this moment. The three of us sang and swayed to such classics as "Heartache" by Bonnie Tyler, "Love Fool" by the Cardigans and "Maggie May" by Rod Stewart. These songs made me feel a little nostalgic, a little melancholy, and a lot silly for being affected at all.

After we had all be come hoarse from over 2 hours of vocalizing, we departed ways. IR flew back to London the next day.

On my drive back to Boston, I did not listen to the indie rock CD's I burned. Instead, I blasted local easy listening stations that played the best of the 80's, 90's and today. Didn't even need a teleprompter to sing along.

Thank you V!

This one is dedicated to V, who made me laugh hysterically today from this rare gem found in the Improper Bostonian "The Best of Boston" issue.

guilty pleasures

While I am more than willing to admit my love of cheesy teenie bopper movies and the artistic talents of BSB, I am a little embarassed to recount my reaction to something that just happened at work.

The firm librarian just dropped off my set of the NYC Zoning Resolutions. They are brand new, oversized, still smell of printer's ink, and oh so beautiful. At my old job, they gave me an old set that was falling apart and totally out of date. I was forced to use the online version which is a lot harder to navigate when trying to do statutory research.

I am such a land use loser... But, I just had to share with everyone (all 8 of you): I LOVE MY NEW ZONING REGS!!

mini vacation

The boyfriend (BF) and I took a weekend trip to the very sunny island of Puerto Rico. We had tossed around going to the Bahamas or even to the Yucatan peninsula. Despite the searing heat in San Juan, BF and I were glad that we had opted for Puerto Rico since Hurricane Emily seemed to be everywhere else in the Caribbean.

We picked Puerto Rico because it was close enough that we could take a weekend trip, but it was far enough away that we could get away from work. I ended up bringing along some documents to review on the plane, but those quickly put me to sleep. The sleep inducing powers of legal documents never cease to amaze--there were 3 crying babies within 3 rows of our seats. Our ride was uneventful, except for the mad dash to the gate before hand. Note to self, never fly out of JFK unless you want to sit on the tarmac for over an hour and have the captain tell you that there are 29 planes ahead of you.

We landed in San Juan Intl. Airport around midnight and we headed to our hotel--the Caribe Hilton (aka tourist central). The next day we walked around Viejo San Juan and were thankful for the brief rainshower that helped to cool things down. Viejo San Juan is like a little bit of Spain in the Caribbean. It had narrow cobblestone streets flanked by pastel colored casitas. The people were all super friendly and spoke to me in English. I guess that BF must look Hispanic because he was stopped on more than one occasion by various crazy old people babbling on and on in Spanish. That night, we hopped into a cab and headed for what our previous cabbie had called "El mejor hotel and casino in San Juan." With that ringing endorsement, we made our way to the Wyndham El San Juan Hotel. Hmm... el mejor, huh? When we walked in, we were immediately assaulted by the sounds of a salsa y merengue band and the sight of old men dancing with scantily clad older and younger ladies (these people really knew how to dance). I couldn't convince BF to hit the dance floor, but he did make some money at the Roulette Wheel. Unlike my previous gambling excursion, there was no air of desperation at El San Juan. There was bordello like feel to the place with its fringed light fixtures, ornately carved dark wood and its pseudo-Victorian furniture. I felt like an extra in the HBO series Deadwood.

Day #2 was spent at the beach, lazing by the pool, sipping Pina Coladas (which were invented at the Caribe Hilton in 1954) at the swim up bar, napping in a hammock, and eating comida criolla which seems to include plantains in some shape or form.

That night, we joined an "eco-tour" to a bioluminescent bay in Fajardo. It came highly recommended by several of my friends. It was really cool--we kayaked into Laguna Grande at night and then jumped into the very warm lagoon which has a very high concentration of dinoflagellates that, when agitated, glow. When our paddles cut through the water, it looked like shimmering stardust flowing behind the paddle. Our guide was right, when we floated on our backs and waived our arms and legs, it looked like we were making snow angels, except that we were in the water. What freaked me out was seeing LARGE fish darting through the water. Also, to get to Laguna Grande, you have to paddle through a canal that is surrounded by Red Mangrove trees. What they don't tell you is that the Mangrove swamp is a haven for mosquitos. These mosquitoes were CRAZY--they bit me through my bathing suit even after dousing myself with OFF Skintastic (not so fantastic at keeping the bugs away)!

Our last day in PR involved taking a local ferry across the bay to take a tour of the Bacardi Rum Factory. Unfortunately, the ferry was over 30 minutes late and we ended up missing the last tour. We did get to have some free drinks at the factory and got to tour their gift shop. Nothing like getting tourists liquored up outside and then having the only air conditioned spot be the gift shop. Genius. I ended up blowing $50 on rum and other random crap that I'm sure I would not have bought had I been sober.

So, now I'm back in NYC, covered in mosquito bites, looking slightly tanner than usual, and generally pretty happy with the vacation. Where to next?

Walking the Line

"A Girl of the Limberlost" was my favorite book at the age of nine. It is a bittersweet tale of a girl who manages to overcome parental neglect, poverty, and loneliness. Elnora, the heroine, pays her way through school, wins the respect of all around her through her kindness and smarts, and falls in love with a dashing young man. I, however hard I try, would never be like Elnora. So lets look pass the fact that she is white girl living in the swamps in the 1920's. Because of the hardships she endured, Elnora was an adult at young age, and because of the choices I made in my life, I have yet to cross that line. For the past 5 years I feel like I have been walking the line between carefree youth and adulthood.

An example of this balancing act is Saturday. Like almost every Saturday morning, I woke up early poured myself a large bowl of cereal (reduced sugar Frosted Flakes) and sat in front of the TV to watch cartoons. After "Liberty Kids" which I watch just to pick out the famous guest star voices and its bitchin' theme song, I assembled my backpack to go to school. With backpack on my back, I sat on my living room floor to procrastinate a little longer. I watched half an episode of "Xiaolin Showdown" before realizing it was a rerun and left the house. Pedaling on my ten speed bike, I thought of the experiments I needed to do and the lesson plan I had for the summer student. At school, I was farily efficient except for the 15 min I spent reading the NYtimes online. I destained one gel, took care of my cells, ran some PCR's and purified them, and read 2 pertinent journal articles.

On Saturday night, I went to D and T's place for a bbq. (No weekend debauchery to report, although on Thursday S and I did get digits from French astrophysicists.) I was greeted at the gate by T fanning the orange tongues of fire spreading from the coals. He doused the briquettes with an additional squirt of lighter fluid. Leaving him to his manly fir ritual, I walked inside the apartment, to see an elegant spread of crostini, tapenade, and wine. D introduced me to S and M, a fun married couple, who were in the middle of an animated story about M's mother. As I was reclined, in the leather arm chair with my glass of red, I was getting feeling that nice glow of friends and of course the wine because I am asian. At the dinner table, we convened with more wine, salad, grilled steaks, and potatos. The mood was set with more tealights and conversations about politics, theater, and work. However, that is not to say the talk was not lively or that S did not break into Sir Mix-a-Lot's "I like Big Butts."

Poor Elnora. She never had this much fun. For all her maturity and wisdom, I'd trade it all to stay walking the line for at least a little while longer.

Weekend Update

I meant to post this much earlier, but haven't really had the time...

One of my best friends from high school (HSF) was in town this past weekend. She is one of those amazing people that always manages to talk their way into anything. Her timing is impeccable--managing to get laid off right before law school and then collecting unemployment while in school. Some people have all the luck.

Anyway, this weekend, we had brunch in the East Village and then headed over to PS1. It was a beautiful afternoon for it. I've been to PS1 before, but never for one of their summer parties. I thought we were heading over for the art, but apparently they have music, barbecue, and beer in the courtyard on Saturdays during the summer. I even got free entry with my new work ID. Our firm does all the legal work for MoMA.

It was good. The boyfriend joined us--some of his friends were going to be there as well. We drank Magic Hat No. 9 (a throwback to Beantown), ate some burgers, and nodded our heads in time to the bass that was pumping in the background. The festivities ended around 8:00, we were all happily buzzed and maybe that's why the boyfriend and I agreed to head to Brooklyn where HSF and her girlfriend were meeting up with one of HSF's friends from San Francisco.

So, we trekked on out to Brooklyn and ended up at a dyke bar. The space is really cool--it has a roof deck and it was the perfect night to be drinking under the stars--a dance floor, a lounge area, a pool table, and Ms. PacMan. The only problem was, there were no cute girls to be found at this particular dyke bar. Strike that, there was one cute girl there but I am pretty sure that she was straight. The boyfriend was a good sport, he dealt with the sideways glances and the looks of derision from the butchy gals. I think that maybe they were jealous of his haircut. There were many bad haircuts there. The femme girls weren't much to speak of either. They were mostly Smith types with shorter hair and smelling of patchoulli. Not really my scene.

Boyfriend and I got sucked into a conversation with one particularly angry dyke who said, "Kids these days have it so easy. They think it's cool to be gay. When I came out. . ." She was all of 27. I guess that when she came out gays were being stoned and beaten with sticks by passersby and today when kids come out they get cool points. I don't think it works out quite that way. I think it's still hard for people to come out now. My youngest brother just came out and I know that his school is not throwing him a party of any kind. The other person that we talked to had ADD and kept repeating herself. She found out that I am [insert ethnicity here] and she kept trying to bond with me over that. She would say random words in a worse accent than mine. She then kept rambling about her cousin's upcoming wedding where she would be the least attractive bridesmaid. Well, her cousin is a NY City Knicks dancer and the rest of the bridesmaids are all Knicks dancers, so that's to be expected. And really, ADD girl was pretty cute, crazy, but not bad looking at all. I was reminded of the episode of Growing Pains when Mike Seaver asks (what was at the time) a hot blonde chick to dance and when she says yes it's in a super whiney voice. Talking to my fellow peeps can be very painful.

Anyway, that was my Saturday. Brunch in Manhattan, beer and barbecue in Queens followed by lesbians in Brooklyn. I hit 3 of the 5 boroughs in one day. Not too shabby.

Big girl bed

I now have a big girl bed i.e. a full sized mattress. For years, I slept on a twin bed. I thought nothing of it. I don't even take up the whole twin mattress and actually happily I sleep only on the right side of it. (I am not a sprawler and like to not move at night).

However, time had come to trade up. I was sick of friends laughing at me about it. I was sick of the children's sheets and not being able to find pretty bedding. But most of all, I was sick of my friend D's comments that my bed is a "man repellant." All summer he has been threatening to drive to Jordan's furniture and just buying a bed as a birthday/Christmas gift. And lately, I was getting worried that it was more that just idle threats that I might roll into my apartment and see tatooed burly men hauling my little twin away.

What I did not factor in was the expense of being a "big girl." I need new sheets and comforter. More pillows are needed to fill the top of the bed. I went on Overstock today and considered if I needed sateen sheets, which as fas as I can acertain are no different than ordinary cotton sheets. The hype worked and I bought them.

Maybe I just need to bring sheets from home. My friend W once gave me Gargoyle sheets as a joke but they may be the perfect addition to the bed. They are a sexy black with cartoon figures flying around them. Hmmm.... maybe the "man repellant" factor has nothing to do with the size of the bed.

You all are invited to a slumber party in my new bed. Last night I discovered that I take up only a third of the bed so there should be plenty of room for you all!!!

New Digs

So, it is day 3 at the new job. I've got a new office (complete with window), a new secretary (one that is actually on the same floor as me and is willing to do work), and a new commute (10 minutes shorter than my previous one).

It's 7:40 and the floor is almost empty. This is a good thing. If I were at the old place, everyone would be picking up their dinner orders right about now. I guess this new place is pretty good. The boyfriend says that I should see how I feel one month from now. We'll see how it goes.

Opinion poll: GenX ladies

Normally, Monday's post is about some weekend event, but I had an argument this weekend that is kind of bugging me. The central issue is the interaction of GenX ladies and their relationship with moola, dead presidents, green...etc.. Well, actually that is not accurate. The argument surrounds ladies and their relationship with their significant other's cash.

So here is how the debate started. My friend G's friend K's live-in girl friend bought a ridiculously expensive coffee table. While I am sure K's lady contributes in many ways to the household, she currently is unemployed and bought the coffee table with his money.

G: Well, I think K should just let it go. It is no big deal. He can afford it.

ET#1: No, but I think it is silly. The least she could have done was consulted him before making the purchase. Or perhaps buy a more resonably priced one. What could be so special about this table?

G: That is not how the way works. You should always pay for what your girlfriend wants, it is your job as "the guy." Anyways girls are weird about money. Kr [his ex] used to spend....

ET#1: WHAT! Don't make ridiculous generalizations. Women are more than capable of handling things. And what girl acts like that?

G: They all do, eventually.

ET#1: WHAT!

G: Well, I don't see you ever paying for dinner.

ET#1: Hey, I would if I ever had the opportunity to. (Fortunately, the check is always given to him. It is not that I am weird about money, but seriously on my stipend I cannot afford to out that often and the idea of making someone ramen for dinner is not so appealing either. Also, I have attempted to pay for movies, beer and taxis. I digress, back to the story.) Okay, fine. Next time dinner is on me.

G: No, no that is not what I meant. I don't know what I saying, but......

Here is my question to all of you loyal readers: In the year 2005, do you think a man should still be considered the main hunter/provider?

Epilogue
G lost his wallet and I paid for lunch, happily.

Happy Birthday, America!

I always seem to end up in Beantown for the 4th of July. This year was different in that instead of lazing around on the Esplanade watching fireworks and waiting for the cannons to be fired in time to the 1812 overture, Evil Twin #1, BCM, SKY, and BCM's coworker and I decided to challenge ourselves by hiking Mt. Liberty in New Hampshire. When Evil Twin #1 and I agreed to do this hike, we had no idea what we were in for. BCM had e-mailed us a link to the area and it looked great on their website. What we didn't know was that it would be pretty much straight up and straight down--no switchbacks--and super rocky. So rocky, in fact, that I had to retire my hiking boots (which I've had since senior year of college) because the soles got totally shredded.

As Evil Twin #1 will confirm, I was pretty much crippled on Sunday, the day after our hike. My body went into a state of shock since I am about as active as a slug these days. It was so bad that I had to use the curb cuts when crossing the street because my legs threatened to buckle beneath me as I stepped up onto and down off the curb. It was really bad. Despite all that, I was able to enjoy another all-American pass time on Sunday: shopping. And I'm not talking about a quick stop at a store. It was a marathon session of shopping up and down Newbury Street, at the Basement, in H&M and at Marshalls. Shopping is a full time job. We started at 9:30 at Flour Bakery in the South End, and fueled by the world's best doughnut and a BLT, we kept going until around 6:00 pm. Oh, and I was in 2.5 inch wedge espadrilles the entire time. Evil Twin #1 says that because of this, "[Evil Twin #2] is not weak."

Evil Twin #1 shopped for baby clothes and I shopped for my first old lady bathing suit. Shopping in the Juniors section of the Swimwear Department is enough to make one consider buying a mumu. It was a thoroughly demoralizing experience. I ended up with a black Calvin Klein onepiece that Evil Twin #1 helped me pick out. I have a feeling that if I wear it, I will also be sporting a sarong to cover up certain "problem areas". After our day of shopping (and watching some of the Beauty and the Geek marathon) we met up with BCM and SKY and BCM's little bro for a beer near Washington Square. We chatted and reminisced over our Magic Hats and BCM took us for one last spin in Maxine (the Maxima we rented).

The next morning, Evil Twin #1, Zandrea and I grabbed breakfast before Evil Twin #1 and I did a little more shopping. Evil Twin #1 found some very flattering jeans and I walked away empty handed. We headed back to 109 St. Paul and Evil Twin #1 packed me some snacks for my train ride home. When I got home, there was an extended display of "unauthorized" fireworks through out "el barrio" from 8:30 until around 1:00 am. It truly was a fantastic 4th.

An ode to our hike

Up the mountain we did climb
ET#2,B, S and new friend M
Never really making record time,
Since out of shape was I, ahem.

While the rocky steps seemed daunting
And at times my heart was a racing
Afraid of my friend's taunting
My legs kept moving dreading the incline they were facing.

Surely enough, to the top we did make it!
Mt. Liberty your ass we did kick,
And lunch we enjoyed at your summit.
Pictures of us, fellow hikers did take with a camera's click.

Then down we had to go.
Shouldn't we try to decend nice and steady?
But alas this was not to be so,
To see a bathroom, ET#2 was ready.

Finally, at the bottom of the mount
We knew tomorrow we would be sore.
Having taken too many steps to count,
Everyone, but B, on the ride home had a good snore.