Thank God for Friends

Last night, I accidentally purchased Mr. Brightside as my ringback. Not knowing what a ringback was, I also accidentally set it as my default ringback. Little M then called me on speakerphone and I heard what everyone would hear when calling me. Yikes. I then freaked out because I didn't know how to change it back. Little M said I shouldn't. I mentioned the whole phone interviews, grandparents thing, and BC said I should probably change it to the standard. After lots of searching through VZW's crazy applications, I succeeded. Really thank God for friends though. Had I done this by myself, accidentally still of course, I wonder who would have been the first to call and hear "I"M COMING OUT OF MY CAGE AND I'VE BEEN DOING JUST FINE!" Funny enough the first person to call me after Little M was former Boss Man. Turns out he accidentally called me whilst sitting on his BBerry.

It was a great 4th of July filled with BC cooking our whole meal on the grill, watching LS's cat kill a mouse, and talking about who would grant our deathbed wishes. Fun times.

Plus, I won a foosball game!

My Independence Day

Good morning. In less than an hour, aircraft from here will join others from around the world. And you will be launching the largest aerial battle in this history of mankind.

Mankind: that word should have new meaning for all of us today.

We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore.

We will be united in our common interests.

Perhaps its fate that today is the 4th of July, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom, not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution -- but from annihilation.

We're fighting for our right to live, to exist.

And should we win the day, the 4th of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day when the world declared in one voice:

We will not go quietly into the night!

We will not vanish without a fight!

We're going to live on!

We're going to survive!

Today, we celebrate our Independence Day!

And also, we celebrate Upstanding Citizen Lily Gedney's personal Independence Day. She will no longer report 9:00 to 17:00 at her Franklin Square post any longer. Congratulations, Lily. Help kill the aliens and enjoy a burger while you're at it.

Countdowns

I have so many countdowns going on right now.

2 more days of work in this office.
4 more days in my darling little apartment.
12 days til Chicago trip.
2 more months in Saratoga.

It's all very exciting, but I am ready to do something, be somewhere with no expiration date. Ok, go ahead and tell me life is full of expiration dates, but you know what I mean... I would like to go into something not knowing when I am coming out of it.

What's it gonna feel like when all of these approaching countdowns hit zero? Late last week, my countdown of Gossip Girl episodes I had left to watch hit zero and I was quite sad. If Gossip Girl episodes count for real life experiences, which they most certainly do, these are gonna be some interesting months.

Ugh. What has this become? Livejournal c. 2002? I'm sorry, nonexistent readers.

Somewhere between a 4 and a 10 on the Girly Gurl Spectrum

Last summer my dear friend Emily and I had a debate over who was more of a girly girl. We threw--terribly, because girls can't throw--"insults" back and forth until she said, "Look at your gold lame ballet flats. You win." I dropped the ball, ate a few orange slices, but instead of doing some sort of victory dance, felt instead defeated. I didn't want to be the winner. I spent four years of all girls high school probably being quite girly, but never thinking of myself as a girly girl because there were probably about 20, maybe even 30, girls girlier than I in my class of 48. Granted then, my uniform when not in uniform consisted of dirty Converse and unbelievably soft, but not form-flattering, or revealing, in the least vintage sweatshirts I bought on dirty Haight Street.

I definitely have a more feminine look now. I see that, however, as a sign of maturity and being put together. Or despite the stereotypes, a sluttiness that didn't hit me until after all-girls high school. I do love gold ballet flats, dresses, and according to my friend Alissa "love to showcase my cleave." I also paint my nails frequently, own a fair amount of rom coms (though I am proud to say there isn't a single Julia Roberts flick on my shelves) and I hate spiders. But for some reason, deep down I have never thought of myself as a girly girl. Maybe it's because I am messy. Or because I like beer. And make lots of jokes. And swear kind of a lot. And sit like a boy sometimes. And like politics. And some sports. And camping. My favorite color is royal blue. I love beer actually. I can go to bed with dirty feet. I hate the song "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" and the movie "Pretty Woman." And "My Best Friend's Wedding." This list could go on and on. Emily heard it all.

Today, however, within the course of just a few hours, it really hit me: I am a girly girl. Here's the train of events: I struggled to carry my laundry basket down my stairs. My laundry basket is bright pink. I packed an US Weekly to take to the laundromat. I spent the whole hour doing laundry on the phone with my BFF. I only got off the phone with her because I ran into Jocelyn and her puppy and had to flip out over her cuteness even though we've spent the last three days together (the pupster, not Joce, though she's pretty damn cute, too). When Joce asked what I was doing tonight, I responded, "Going to my coworker's to drink wine and watch 27 Dresses." I came home with my laundry basket. Had another long phone conversation while I made myself a salad for dinner. I put on sweats and UGGS (I know, this is getting embarassing) and walked to my coworkers to watch the movie, talking only to comment on Marsden's dreaminess and Heigl's adorable skirts. I limited myself to a glass and a half of wine.

But, now I'm home, UGGS off, and thinking about channel surfing and having a beer instead of folding my laundry.

So, middle of the road?

5?
6?
7?
8?

If I say I have BO from this heat, I won't make it to 9 right? Because a girlier girl than I once said "Girls don't sweat, they glisten."

OK fine, I can't contain myself: 3 days until the Sex and the City movie opens!!

Shit, I guess I do lose.

I love this town. And dogs. And sandwiches.

Not feeling my narrative tonight. Some bulleted weekend highlights and woofs:

+ Eda, Jocelyn's dog, is my new BFF. We spent 3 hours together today. More to come tomorrow.
+ Veggie sandwiches. I'm over turkey. Veggies and hummus or veggies and chevre. Putnam or Bread Basket. Hit em both this weekend.
+ Cooking for #1 Food Snob friend for the first time ever and getting high marks.
+ Going to the Adelphi's garden bar with #1. A little paradise right out of Gatsby.
+ Freckles and tanning... though I know this should be a woof.
+ I'm rediscovering gin and have found my summer drink: Hendrick's and T. Good at Max's because they put cukes in my drink. On a piece of dried bamboo shoot!
+ Bob Carlton.
+ Gutsy sunbathing in Congress Park with Kaja.
+ 4 hours at the Local with #1 and BC.
+ Meeting a nice new neighbor.
+ Widespread smell of sunscreen.
+ Honest Tea.
+ And the obvious: 3-day weekends.

- Why is everyone preggers? It's kind of disturbing me.
- Slow walkers.
- DA's this weekend.
- The town of Day. And inbreds.
- Servers at the Local. Also inbreds.

Sex in the Saratoga

Just Kidding. I am not trying to be the next Carrie Bradshaw as much as I like my sex...and my puns. But, I do have some questions and observations on singlehood. One time only theme for a post. I swear. But if you do draw parallels between me and someone, please make it Carrie and not Cathy. Ah. Yikes. Never. No Way.

A friend once told me I am not ready for a committed relationship because even though I liked a song on say 102.7, I couldn't just stick with it and still checked about 5 other stations. I wanted to tell her that was BS and that sometimes a girl just wants to hear Fergie more than "the real alternative," (and you know what Fergie, sometimes big girls do cry) but I said "Hmmm, that's interesting" and blew her comment off. But now I can't avoid this thought everytime I switch from a true gem on alma mater WSPN in hopes of hearing, dare I say, Avril? The friend was a Psych major in school, so part of me takes this observation to heart. Another part says, that's ridiculous and it's absolutely okay that sometimes I just want the perfect top 40 song... I guess if it were "perfect," it would probably be the top 1. Thoughts?

Has cooking salmon the lady behind the counter said was "a perfect filet for one" depressed me because she said that or because I listened to Cat Power while cooking it? I can't really get to the origin of this. Maybe I'll find it at the bottom of this bottle of wine. And if not there, the bottom of a Ben & Jerry's pint.

(OK, there's no ice cream...nor wine... just tea and cold medicine...if that's any better... but I actually have a cold!)

And reminder, I have no cats. Will never have cats.

I don't want to be 40 and have bitches like me being bitches to me

I feel bad about something I said today. It wasn't that bad and my dear darling coworker is over it, but I feel a little guilty.

She had a bad day at work yesterday. She went home, had dinner with her daughter, and then "had to have a Mike's Hard Lemonade."

I said "Way to kick back!" in a pretty bratty tone. Not everyone can go to karaoke til the wee hours of a Tuesday night and still fake freshness...

She told me I made her feel old.

But, I'm pretty sure we are okay now because we ate lunch in the park together and talked about hickeys.

To be young again!