A Series of Unrelated Things

Today marks the midway point between the last day of school back in June and the first day of school coming up in August. For those of you who have not yet had your morning coffee or 12, that would mean that my summer vacation is officially half over. That's right, the time is just flying by- so if you wanted to try and book yourself some NPW time you best get your requests in soon. Once school starts up I will be inundated with French class, intramural sports, media council, and of course, major library action, and I will not have time for your paltry "fun".

In other news, you can all stop worrying for me: I have found a dress for the wedding. Of course, $90 later, and I still need to buy shoes and a bra that works with a halter top, but hey, my cousin only gets married once. I hope. Dammit, Gabe, you better only get married once!

Also a propos of nothing, The Boy has downloaded a Nintendo emulator to keep me busy while he's at work, and in turn I have rediscovered my love for the classic 1980's game, Maniac Mansion. Oh, LucasArts, how did you create the most genius of all video games? I mean, who wouldn't want to run around a crazy house with a purple tentacle, a radioactive pool, and a nuclear reactor in the basement? Actual quote from the game: "Ed, the meteor needs your hamster and the electric cattle prod." 'Nuff said.

One more tangent. I am totally starving right now. Just thought you should know.

It Takes a Strange City To Make a Runner

The way I see it, there are three types of people in this world: those who enjoy running, those who do not enjoy running but will do it for the sake of exercise, and those who sit on their collective asses watching reruns of Judge Joe Brown while eating an entire sleeve of Thin Mints, a Hungry Man Salisbury Steak dinner, and a liter of Mountain Dew.

I myself fall somewhere between the first two, though usually much closer to the second. There are a few reasons for this; I can tell you that girls with any kind of chest to speak of should not attempt running as a sport without serious forethought. Strapping in the twins takes work- you don't want to test out a new sports bra on a run, for example. Too much bounce and you're out for the count. Anyway, given the opportunity, I will do just about any other sport before running- tennis, ultimate, hiking, dancing, track ball on the beach, DDR. But sometimes, just sometimes, when there is absolutely no one left I can con into keeping me company and nothing else to do, a good run can be exhilirating.

It seems that is the case today, what with people actually having to work and all- I am going to have to get my run on if I want to get any exercise in this city. I guess for the people that love to run, any city would be a good city to run in. But for me... there are so many other more fun things to do in Boston than running. I'd rather take a four hour walk. But here in Rochester? Well, I can see how this city would breed runners. Anyway, at least it's not as hot as yesterday when I thought I would get heat stroke in Ellison Park and someone's dog would find me laying in the grass, clutching my ipod and water bottle. But since I only know how to get to Park Ave, Target, and the Pittsford Plaza, Ellison seemed to be my best bet to not get the crazies beeping at me from trucks. Oh, how I miss the gentle yoga, the strengthening pilates, and the soothing sauna of my beautiful gym.

I guess it's better than Salisbury Steak for dinner.

I Am So Ready for the Zombiepocalypse

The Zombie Movie Survival Quiz

Francesco Dellamorte is your name, and killing zombies is your game. Living at Buffalora Cemetery, where the dead rise quite frequently, you know how to take care of zombies. Yes, you are definitely a bad ass. Too bad your sexy model girlfriend is a zombie.
Take this quiz!








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Thanks to a friend, I now realize that I have prepared as fully as possible for the impending zombie invasion. If you consider yourself my friend, please make sure you know what to do in the event the dead rise from their graves... because I sure as hell don't need to be saving your ass as well as mine.

You Know You Want It

Our road trip to Boston was an unmitigated success. As Denise put it, I sure can sell the hell out of Boston. It's only a matter of time before everyone in Rochester finds themselves packing up all their belongings and making the six hour drive east to the land of clam chowder and endless beer. My evil plan has already been set into motion... mwahahaha!

Anypoo- Denise, Dave, Chris and I had an amazing time. Let me break it down into a series of highlights for you:

1. Red Hook Brewery Tour = amazing. If you like beer, breweries, old New Hampshire dudes with long grayish-white ponytails, or cool tours, you should get your ass up to Portsmouth. Nitro Black? Yum.
2. The Friendly Toast, where you can eat your omelette and look at terribly fascinating art.
3. A Harvard Square tour, which included trips to Tealuxe, Newbury Comics, Cardullo's, the Harvard Bookstore, Black Ink, and Grendel's Den. (Still so much more to see!) It also included walking through Porter Square, where Denise was dazzled by the craftiness of Paper Source.
4. Seeing the glow of The Boy and Dave's faces in the rearview mirror, illuminated by a seriously challenging game of Legend of Zelda on the computer. This included occasional shouts of "How'd you like that, bitch?! I took another piece of your motherf'in Triforce!"
5. Drinking blueberry beer at Boston Beer Works and squeezing our way into the Littlest Bar.
6. Wandering around Davis, posing with the park statues, hangin' with the crazies on the T, the giant electrical storm that knocked a tree onto my neighbor's car, and walking everywhere.

There was so much more, but really you had to be there to enjoy it as much as we did. Maybe next time you would like the NPW Super Tour of the fair city of Boston?

So Long, See You Soon, Bon Voyage. Or Whatever.

I can't believe it's already July 20th. What the hell have I been doing this whole month? I feel like yesterday was the 4th with all the fireworks and jazz hands. I guess that's a testament to how much fun I've been having the past few weeks, back and forth from Bahston to K-ROC585. In fact, I think I might be heading easterly this afternoon with a few NY people in tow for a weekend of candlepin bowling, doing it up Hampton Beach strip style, and bubble tea in Harvard. When am I to return to this fair haven? Who knows? If you're lucky, I'll come right back. If not, well... it'll be sooner rather than later. Don't worry your pretty little heads.

Not Again...

Weekends. Elusive and fleeting. Anyway, hope yours was spiffy. Went back to my native lands for a few days, although it seems like most of the time was spent in the car. Saturday we had a bridal shower for my cousin and his fiancee. A pretty affair, very much the New England garden party. I'll tell you one thing, my family doesn't half-ass parties. I'll post pictures of it on my Picasa album once I get them off the camera. The boys left to drink beers and play Guitar Hero while the girls made table arrangements and got everything ready.

The rest of the time was basically spent running around doing errands, although we did manage to catch some crazy interpretive dance/scary keyboarded/fairy winged girls doing a performance in the Davis park as part of the ArtBeat. Was it as horrible as it sounds? No. It was worse. Most days I'm very happy to live right off the bike path, but just the sounds of this band coming from the Square were enough to make me wish I was back up in the secluded, quiet woods of New Hampshire.

Things on the agenda for today: going for a run, toasterizing some trader joe's soy nuggets for lunch, going to see Superman, and trying to avoid the heat as much as possible. Did I mention it's like 100 degrees here in Rochester? I have a feeling the run will be short-lived, but I need to get off my ass and do something other than sleep and watch movies. I had an invite to go jet-skiing in Greece but realized I had left my suit at home. And my IROC. So I had to pass.

Onward and upward. I am now accepting offers to do stuff in the Rochester area for this week. Don't everyone crowd me. There's more than enough NPW to go around.



UPDATE:

I just walked to the post office and had two trucks beep at me and wave (have Rochester men never seen a woman walking in shorts and a t-shirt?), a jogger tell me I was brilliant for walking and not jogging in this heat, and a "special" young man in a wheelchair tell me I was pretty. Who knew a twenty minute walk could be so eventful here?

Like I Needed A Quiz To Find This Out?

You Are 50% Normal

While some of your behavior is quite normal... Other things you do are downright strange You've got a little of your freak going on But you mostly keep your weirdness to yourself

How Normal Are You?

A Lesson In Chinese Food Menus

Last night we went to Ming's Noodles. A few of us had a hard time deciphering the menu, since most items looked pretty much the same as others, but when I found the Curry Coconut Milk Clay Pot, I knew all my questions were answered. Chicken and vegetables in a curry coconut milk? Yum!

Everyone's orders came out, mine coming last in a flourish of grandeur with it's own little clay cooking pot. Everyone dug into their meals, chopsticks flying, and I opened mine up to reveal a spicy, delicious looking meal. What I did not then realize was that the clay pot actually contained molten lava, designed to scorch off the top layer of my tongue in a decidedly undelicious way.

Fifteen minutes later and everyone else was sitting back, comfortably patting their full stomachs and enjoying their fortune cookies while I sat feebly blowing on my clay pot and trying to cut through the steam burns with rice. Damn you, inscrutable menu! A lesson for you all: clay pots may tempt you with their delicious smells, but it will take you twice as long to eat as everyone else. If you're hungry, stick to the noodles or rice.

But- but- once it cooled off enough to put in my mouth, and once some of my taste buds grew back, the curry coconut milk was definitely a Chinese culinary delight.

An All-American City

Oh, rainy Wednesday in Rochester. You are so solemn and proud. You are all, "Look! Look at me, watering your plants and washing your car for you. Am I not amazing?" And we are all, "Yes, yes, Rochester. When we behold your drizzly greatness we are sent into a tailspin of amorous feelings." And then we roll over and go back to sleep.

Yesterday The Boy made the comment that I am always busting on Rochester and I vehemently denied that grievous charge. R-chester knows my true feelings. It senses my contentment and peace, and dare I say, even my happiness? And what's a little humor between friends? But just in case, I am going to compose a Top 5 list of Rochester things I have enjoyed in the past few months.

5. Park Ave. Great for strolling, finding ginger bubble tea, breakfast outside, and people watching. Kind of like a less snotty Newbury Street.
4. High Falls, and your dozens of other natural and man-made wonders- who knew I'd enjoy the sight of the Erie Canal locks?
3. Among the many fine eating establishments, my affections are tied between Dino BBQ and California Rollin'. On a side note, I'm going to be so rich from opening my own fusion sushi place in Boston. Or better yet, Cambridge. We'll get all those Harvard kids to do the business plans.
2. The Public Market
1. The people. Much as I love New England, we are sometimes a cold-hearted lot, less friendly to strangers than we ought to be. People here will actually meet your eyes, wave, or (gasp) start a conversation, even if you've never seen them before in your life. What kind of crazy New Yorkers are you, anyway?

Yes. So. Now you know. Rochester and I are having an affair. Don't judge. Boston, you are my home and you have my heart. But Roch- you are just so damn sexy.

$1 A Pound

Monday already? Is the summer moving at warp speed? Yesterday was just a blur of things happening at me. L and I decided to walk to Kendall so that we could join the ranks of degenerates who dig for their clothes on floors of dirty, stuffy, old warehouses. First, let me tell you that riding the T makes Kendall seem deceivingly close. Oh, just past Central? We can walk in like 20 minutes. Riiight. Try an hour. At noon. With the sun blazing and the humidity at 97%. We also weren't sure where exactly the Garment District was on Broadway, so we ended up passing it and backtracking a few blocks.

Regardless, intrepid explorers that we are, we made it. We wandered joyfully into the store and hit a wall of musty heat that must have been trapped inside that building since 1935. Ignoring the sweat running down my spine, I perused the wigs, sunglasses, and shoes, glancing warily over to the $1 a pound section now and then, shuddering slightly with both loathing and anticipation.

We headed upstairs to the more normal section of consignment clothes and costumes. I didn't seem to find anything "normal", but I can tell you that if you are into Halloween or costume parties in general, this is the place to be. They even had everything marked into sections, like Vintage 1960's Apparel. Holy crap, it was amazing. I had the best Jackie O. costume in my hands but put it back before it somehow found itself hanging in my closet.

Once all upstairs options had been exhausted, we looked at each other. We didn't need to speak, our eyes did all the talking. We knew we were heading down into the depths of $1 a pound. We nodded solemnly. The time had come.

If you have never been to the $1 a pound, here's the basic idea: it is a giant warehouse room, completely devoid of cleanliness and/or godliness into which all the clothes that didn't make it to the "normal" section upstairs are thrown haphazardly all over the floor. Patrons are then encouraged to dive right in, Scrooge McDuck-style, and unearth some vintage treasures. And everything you find you stuff in a plastic trash bag, which you get weighed, handing over dollars as appropriate. We saw people with big clear bags half-full, chatting to each other as they found certain sizes and types of clothes. "Girl, I got your size 16 shorts right here. They even be glow in the dark!"

All this sounds amazing, I know. Until you get there and you're dripping sweat and there are crazy people* just sitting on tops of heaps and heaps of clothing, picking through every article carefully, judging the size of stains, carefully considering labels. It's not like there are rows cut through the clothes, aisles in which to walk. You simply step onto the clothes, vaguely glad you didn't step in dog poop on the way there, and dig your way through.

My mother was horrified by this process when I told her where we were headed. What if there are cockroaches?! I informed her there'd probably be some screaming and thrashing about if there were, but that we were determined to find something. $1 a pound would not get the best of us this time.

After ten minutes of digging we were coated in sweat, dust, and synthetic fibers. We had found part of a kimono, part of a wetsuit, and lots and lots of ugly ass clothing. We were starting to get itchy, some kind of rash on our ankles either induced by the state of the clothing or our nervousness at wading through it all. We finally admitted defeat, crawled our way towards the door, and made it back out into a shining burst of sunlight. Oh, it would feel so good to get home and take a shower... except... are you kidding? It's 1:30? Really? But we have frisbee at 2! We better run back!

And so our day went**. Which is why we decided that today would be iced coffees, swimming at Spy Pond, and a leisurely stroll back.

Tomorrow's agenda: heading back to Rochester. So soon? Yes, so soon. Boston- I love you best, but this is the SummerNPW talking here. I'm doing the damn thing.



*Here "crazy" refers to many different types: the homeless, the people who dress as though they want you to think they're homeless, and MIT summer students.
**We did also find the place where they make these. Actually, we smelled it before we saw it, which was kind of awesome.

The Mall on a Saturday

I went to The Mall today to do some dress shopping and somehow kept finding myself in stores like Forever 21 and Charlotte Russe. Am I going through some kind of quarter-life crisis where I think I am still in high school? I mean, c'mon. Rampage has some cute jewelry and all, but I will not be finding a dress for my cousin's wedding in Rave. I am easily distracted by cute outfits though, and L had to steer me towards Ann Taylor and Macy's so that I could look for something suitable. (I did find some cheap, adorable sandals at Charlotte Russe though, so my mall ADD was somewhat rewarding.)

Why did I choose to head to The Mall on a Saturday in the summer? Well, partly it was because I forgot it was Saturday (having every day off really messes with your sense of days passing), and partly it was because the panic was starting to set in about finding an awesome dress. Anyway, I had almost forgotten how much fun it is to people watch in the New Hampshire malls. Not only do you get the trailer park girls out in their neon pink stiletto pumps with tapered jeans and curled bangs (wait, is that back in now?), but you also get all the scaries from Lawrence and Lowell driving up to tax-free NH to buy their Cinnabons and visit Frederick's of Hollywood, the middle school girls wearing skirts that barely cover their non-legal asses, and the little wannabe thugs wearing so much bling I'm surprised they could even slouch their way over to Foot Locker.

All fun aside, I still have not found a dress that I love. I'm starting to worry, the wedding is in 6 weeks. Maybe I should just head over to Salvation Army, pick out the most horrible rag I can find, and wear it as an ironic statement against fashion. It's so ludicrous it just might work! Sigh. Except I love fashion. Damn you, media execs!

Tonight we are going to have movie marathon night- I "borrowed" a whole case of DVDs from The Boy- and enjoy one sick burrito from Anna's. There is also going to be a laundry blizzard up in here because I am tired of looking at piles of clothes. (L's solution: get rid of some of the clothes! Blasphemy, I tell you.)

Tomorrow's agenda: Garment District, a picnic on the Esplanade, maybe reading a few chapters of my newest book. Stay tuned for more sights.

Back... In Time

Howdy. You may have heard through the rumor mill that I'm back in Beantown. It's true, it's true. But I've been trying to keep it on the DL so don't go spreading it around, huh? Besides, I'm probably not sticking around long, I'll likely be heading back to NY next week. In any case, I am here, and the very first thing I needed to do was reassure all you fans that I am for real when I say I am trying to keep up with this old blogaroo. Seriously. My hands still smell like rest area soap, for godsake. That is how dedicated I am.

The drive back was blissfully uneventful except for a minor hangup on the Mass Pike where the traffic suddenly came to a standstill. Flashbacks of last week's drive caused a moment of severe distress until I noticed that the cars were moving and it was just some construction. Never scare me like that again, Pike! That's not even funny!

In other news, it's very strange to know that more than a week of my summer vacay has already flown by. It's weird and a little lonely to be back, I won't lie. I was just starting to get pretty good at driving around the Roch. And I already miss my NY peeps. I had an amazing invite to go to Toronto for the weekend, I half wish I had just picked up and went with, but the pull of my family and friends was strong. I think I need to jump back into the Boston social scene before I forget what it's like and I am forever doomed to live an upstate NY existence*. But the city is looking pretty good. Giant sunglasses are out in full force, the weather is gorgeous, and I already got a dinner invite out in Central Square. Should I make cookies or sangria? Or both? Definitely both.

Hope you crazy kids are enjoying yourselves, and I'll be seeing you soon. Real soon.



*Just kidding, Rochester. You know I love you.

I'm Here, I Swear

So I took a little time off. I've been recuperating from the drive from hell last week by having a grand old time here in the greater Rochester area, but tomorrow it is time to head back to my beloved Boston. Strange, I don't miss Boston yet. NY is almost like being on some far-off vacation place where there are a lot of bored hipster girls and a ridiculous number of restaurants.

Seriously- you want to go on vacation to eat, Rochester is the land of 10,000 restaurants. And The Boy probably has coupons for all of 'em.

Once I get back I will very likely be bored within 20 minutes, so I will have ample time to compose lengthy posts for you. They will amuse and inspire. But right now, I have to get my ass in gear to meet my friends for a final Rochester lunch. For this week, anyway.