bookshelf spectrum, revisited

bookshelf spectrum, revisited
Originally uploaded by chotda

Found this on Flickr and am completely inspired by it. I'm not really a big house person. Always saw myself living in a tiny space - apartment, shack (sorry, was playing MASH recently) but if I were to live in a larger space, I would want a library and I would it to look just like this. Amazing.

Cruel is...

the radio station I wake up to in the morning giving away billy joel tickets to the 25th caller...

and me without a cell phone.

the bruises were fist kisses

spending time together is easy when you spend so much time apart. i gave up my freedom but i gained a second heart.




second heart is all i need this fall cuz you know i need someone to sing me to sleep.




making good decisions is easy when you haven't got a choice. telephone turn on sunshine when it sends you the right voice.




hello to the angry phone bill. they charge for my whole life. wise man, he once told me, cut the cord with a kitchen knife.




kitchen knife is all i need this fall cuz you know i need someone to sing me to




...zzz...






credit where credit is due.
"the bruises were fist kisses" accredited to Ben White
photos by alex johnson
lyrics - "Coupla Easy Things" Bishop Allen

i brought you this

marysol foucault
wheat toast

go there. seriously. for the following reasons.


max key


miranda lehman


sarah k. meadows


hanne piasecki



bryan schutmaat

lina scheynius

fae young scherling

need another reason? fine, one more.

Even the Canadian thinks this is messed up!

I apaprently started writing about this on May 23 so you know like a really long time ago but never posted it. It's funny so I'm posting it now. Enjoy!

So check it, about a month ago I hung out with my brother and his Canadian. And we're telling him all sorts of crazy family stories and we're like seriously, totally blowing this guy's mind and his mind being blown by situations that I, at this point, think of as normal totally blows my mind. So this is just a few days after my mom totally hung up on me so I tell him the story. The entire time he thinks I'm on the phone with my sister because the story prior was about my sister so he's all like, whoa, that's kinda messed up and I'm like dude, I know, my mom like totally hung up on me. And he's like Holy crap! Your mom hung up on you? That's like seriously messed up. Whoah!! Like Whoah!!! Eh. (Cuz he's Canadian).

But now when I tell this story some people like to focus on the wrong part of the story. Some people like to focus on the reason I called my mom. That's not important. I ask you, my dear reader, not to focus on my inability to function on my own, and to focus on the fact that my mom hung up on me! Okay, here goes:

So one Friday night, about a month ago, around 11:30pm, I called my mom. I called because I wanted to get her opinion on whether or not my milk was still good. Let me explain, see I got this new milk, this all-organic natural milk and the carton claimed it was good until May 15. This happened around April 15th so I thought maybe it was a typo cuz since when does milk stay good for a full month! But I thought, maybe this is special milk and maybe all-organic natural milk stays good for an absurdly long time. The milk didn't smell particularly bad but I'm not a good judge at those sort of things so I wanted back up. Now as I was on the phone with my mom I read another part of the carton that said that the milk was best when used within five days of opening and it had been a week so I realized that the milk probably wasn't okay but before that I wasn't sure. Okay? Get over it.

So I call my mom and she answers and I pose the milk dilemma to her. She tells me to smell the milk. To taste it. See for myself if it's sour. I inform her that I can't tell, thus why I called her for reassurance. There's a pause and she asks how she should know if my milk is good or not. I ask her if she was sleeping because her responses are a little slow and she assures me she wasn't. She asks me if I'm coming home on Saturday and I tell her that I am. I ask again about the milk and she again tells me she can't help me. We chat about nothing. She's still slow with her responses. She asks again if I'm coming home on Saturday and I inform her that my answer hasn't changed in the last two minutes so yes I will be home. I inform her that the milk isn't chunky or anything, so maybe it's okay to drink? There's a pause and she responds that she doesn't care whether I drink the sour milk or not. I wonder what I did to piss her off. I wonder what I said. She asks yet again if I'll be home on Saturday and I answer again that I will. I wonder what I'm forgetting about Saturday that it's this huge deal. I go to ask her but then...she hangs up! She just hangs up on me! My own mother!!

All night I'm worrying about what I said, what I did, what the heck next Saturday is! So the next morning I give her a call back. She's in a much more pleasant mood. I ask her about the phone call last night and she laughs. She hangs up on me and then she laughs about it! The nerve!!! She says she woke up this morning and vaguely remembers talking to me and telling me that she didn't care whether or not I drank the sour milk and she said she felt really bad about that. She doesn't even remember hanging up on me. Seriously. No love!

I don't know. I think there was more to this story but since I started writing this in May and it actually happened in April - well I just can't remember. I still think it's funny though. Cuz my mom hung up on me. Ha.

I've got a bike. You can ride it if you like. It's got a basket, a bell that rings, and things to make it look good.

I was twelve. Anthony was in his first year of college so he couldn't go. It was my dad's annual union picnic. We hated these things but we went every year for my dad. He was in his element there. We just stood around awkwardly. It was better together, but it was just me and it was no fun.

There was a pool but it was crowded. There was food and games but I was too young or old to enjoy most of it. There were raffles. Things no one needed or wanted. Except the bike. I wanted a bike. I was going to wait until Christmas - that was the bike holiday. Kids didn't just get bikes on any random day. Birthdays and Christmas and it was summer so I had some time to wait. But there was one there. At this picnic I didn't want to be at. My dad could tell I wasn't having fun no matter how hard I tried to pretend. He appreciated my attempt and he bought a raffle. "You're getting a bike today," he told me. I wanted to believe him but didn't want to be too disappointed if I didn't win. The day dragged on. My dad was having a good time and I tried to stay out of the way. It was the last union picnic we would go to. The year before Anthony was there and he kept me entertained. His being there also meant my dad could drink because Anthony could drive home. This year, it was just me and my dad and it wasn't the same for either of us. We stayed until the raffles were pulled. I didn't win. I wasn't too disappointed. I was just ready to go home. I would wait until Christmas.

As we drove I put the day behind me, the crowded pool, the picnic food, and the bike. Driving down rt. 18 I didn't realize where we were going until after we pulled into the parking lot of the bike shop. "I told you you were getting a bike today," my dad said as he got out of the truck.

It was a deep purple Trek bike and it was perfect.

The point is, someone stole my bike. I'm going to beat them up if I find them. I hope it wasn't you.

Who needs a house out in Hackensack?

I have to move. I don't want to. I went to look at a place the other night with JM. Despite being only a block from where I live now, the area was surprisingly super sketchy. Despite being only about $200 less than what we now pay for a three bedroom apartment with a full living room and fairly nice sized kitchen, this place was two bedrooms, each the size of one of my closets currently, and a kinda kitchen space/room. And it was dirty and sketchy and gross and I would never live there.

And everything I find on Craig's List is either super expensive or a scam so I've narrowed my options to:

1. moving back in with my parent's (ha)
2. moving in with anthony and jill in montpelier (i would totally actually do this if it didn't mean that two very important people in my life would pretty much never talk to me again if i did)
3. quitting my job, selling all my belongings and moving to peru (or beirut)

So I called my parents to get their thoughts on my options. My dad's suggestions (I'm not making these up!!):

1. JM moving into my current room with me. Get bunk beds.
2. move in with a recently married friend of the family who just bought a house in monroe

Any guesses to the final - and absolutely serious - solution from my parents...

Yup that's right....
3. Pray about it! Give it up to God!

When I end up homeless in a month, you'll know who to blame.

Everyone's disguised just a little bit.

I bought the dress for $15 at that vintage store in Montpelier.

I tried it on and it fit perfectly. I was amazed. Home-made. 1950's. It was clear it wasn't just a 1950's style but actually from the 50's. Otherwies the sleeves would have been shortened. The hem above the knee, not below. Stitches were stretching. Buttons fell off long ago.

"Be careful when you wash this," she said with a smile when she handed me the bag.

I held up the dress outside to show Jill. She gave a look that made it clear she was following the if you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all rule. I folded the dress back up and placed it in the bag. I didn't care. The dress was mine.

I wore the dress today. It seemed an odd choice. For Wolf Parade. I wore the dress today.

At work, everyone smiled and said nice things. For the first time in a month she spoke to me. "French schoolgirl. Gorgeous dress!"

We went to the show. I felt out of place but didn't care. Alex and I made our way to the front and waited. We danced in place. Happy to be just out of way for the more aggressive fans.

"Just be careful guys. With the 'moshing.' Just be respectful and try to be nice." Spencer said. "I mean that wasn't even a fast song."

The $7 beer hit me fast - my bladder anyway. I pushed my way to the back, behind the bar, to the bathroom. Crowds of people. Standing. Listening. Some pushing forward to get to the bar, me in the opposite direction. Two guys push forward. The second texts away. Gawd, pay attention where you're going guy, I think. He looks up and stares me down. Do I know you, I wonder. Because seriously dude, wtf? He stares me down some more as I push through.

I make my way back to Alex. Fists pump in the air and we sing along. You know I'll believe in anything and you'll believe in anything because nobody knows you and nobody gives a damn either way.

We walk back to Columbus Circle and part ways. I take the D to Herald Square and take the stairs to the PATH. A train sits waiting. It's 11:07 and the train doesn't list a destination. Everyone boards. I assume, it being past 11 and with no one waiting on the platform that the train will make all stops. After 14th street I realize some people are left on the platform after the doors close. At 9th I wonder if maybe this is just a Hoboken train. At Christopher I debate getting up to check but don't move. At Hoboken I follow the crowd out. There are two trains sitting. I board the 33rd street train with everyone else. Frustrated to have to return to Christopher Street to get back to Jersey. Realizing that at that point the trains will only be running the late night schedule and I'll be right back in that spot in another twenty minutes. I sit and wait. As the doors are about to close on the empty train across the platform I realize it is the WTC train, making a stop at Pavonia Newport. I quickly exit the train and make my way across the platform. I get on the train just as the door closes behind me. I realize as I sit that the train isn't as empty as I thought.

His jeans are ripped and I feel him watching me as I sit down. I go back to reading my book.

"This train goes to Connecticut, right?" Even from across the car I can see that he has a good smile.

"Eventually." I didn't know what to say. I smile hoping he didn't hear my failed attempt at a joke. I focus back on my book.

I realize he's moved to the seat across from me before I even look up. Upon closer inspection I realize his eyes are just as good as his smile. He's young but not too young. Teen Beat cute but with just the right amount of roughness around the edges.

"Going to New York?" He has a nice voice.

I shake my head. "Jersey."

"From Jersey to Jersey?"

"No New York to Jersey. Wrong train. Long story."

He asks where I work. Where I live. Where he lives. We exchange vague locations. New York. Jersey City. New York. He was coming from Hoboken. Fun, he says. Sure, I say.

"I like your dress."

"Thanks," I smile.

"You have a really nice smile."

"Thanks," my smile bigger.

"Do you have a boyfriend."

"Yeah, I do." my smile biggest.

I think of the times I've lied to that question. Easier to lie than to explain to a complete stranger that my lack of a boyfriend is not an open invitation. I wonder if I would've lied to him.

"Does he live with you?" A look as if he realizes that it's a strange question to ask just a little too late.

"Nope. He lives in Virginia."

"That's no good."

I shake my head, "no good at all."

"Why does your boyfriend live in Virginia?"

"That's a really good question," I admit.

"Have you ever asked yourself that question?" his smile doesn't fade.

"All the time," neither does mine.

We pull into the station.

"This is my stop," I nod towards the exit. "Good luck getting to New York."

"Good luck with your boyfriend."

I smile to myself as I cross the platform and wait for the Journal Square train. Wolf Parade plays in my head, wishing that I had cell service underground. I wonder if it'll be too late to call by the time I get to Journal Square.

I think about the boy in Virginia. The one who thinks I have a nice smile. The one who would think I looked pretty in this dress. Because this heart's on fire and it's getting better all the time. I think about him and I smile.

Good luck, Goodbye. Thanks, Boss.

I'm pretty sure my stance on romance can be pretty easily summed up by my opinion that Bruce Springsteen's Thunder Road is one of the best love songs ever written if only for the lyric: You ain't a beauty but hey you're alright/Oh and that's alright with me. which is pretty much the sweetest thing ever. Followed closely by the lyrics of Billy Joel's Just the Way Your Are which essentially, if you think about it, says the same thing.

Explains a lot really.

If you're under the impression that I'm alright...

i wanted to post some cuz it's been some time and all. but tonight i worked crazy late. and now i'm just wasting time playlist-ing and magazine perusing and i can't seem to hold on to a thought long enough to actually put pen to paper so to speak so this is all i gots for now, other people much better at life than me:

the ones we love.
i need help.
american teen trailer.

I'm going to Hawaii.

I'm going to Hawaii.

I booked my flight last night.

I'm going to Hawaii.

I'm not going till January 14, 2009, but I'm still going to Hawaii.

And all last night and all this morning, in my head, it's all, i'mgoingtohawaiii'mgoingtohawaiii'mgoingtohawaii!!!!!!!!!

And for the next seven months it's going to be i'mgoingtohawaiii'mgoingtohawaiii'mgoingtohawaiii'mgoingtohawaii!!!!!!!!!

So you and I might be in a deep philosophical discussion about the meaning of life and Barak Obama and rising gas prices and global warming and globalization, but in my head it'll be all like i'mgoingtohawaiii'mgoingtohawaiii'mgoingtohawaii!!!!!!

And you're not.

(unless you want to. come with me. cheap flights. book now!)

the heart boner post reminded me...

There are lots of things I've done in my life that I'm proud of. Some of the highlights:

- not only passing my history class senior year and being allowed to graduate, but actually receiving a completely undeserved B. awesome!
- writing my 50 page senior paper in three days - while studying for my other finals and completing my journalism II journal - and receiving an A+ on it and being asked - out of all undergrad fashion merch majors - to present it at some undergrad symposium forum thingee.
- getting that award thingee (i don't remember the name of it) that was awarded to one student from each department by a faculty that less than a year earlier probably didn't even know i was in their department.
- being editor in chief of the banner.
- the series of events that took place at the 50 days party.
- eventually moving out of my parent's house (although apparently some people believe that despite the fact that i now live 45 miles away from my parents and am very rarely ever in monroe, that essentially i still live there)
- going four months (and counting) without cutting my hair!
- keeping phish alive, not only longer than all his fishy friends thus proving all those that voted my fish the fish to die first wrong, but keeping a freakin' goldfish alive for two freakin' years!
- beating anthony and craig at bowling.

out of all those awesome accomplishments, the one i may be most proud of...

completing (and surviving) my three nights, three cities, three shows weekend!

friday night: lionely neykov - brooklyn
saturday night: georgie james - washington, d.c.
sunday night: handsome furs - nyc

awesome shows. awesome weekend. awesome me. yay.

this song is about boners...in your heart.

i wrote this on April 7th, the morning after the handsome furs show. i don't know why i didn't post it then. i think i was going to attach the video i took at the show. i'm posting it now. maybe in another month i'll post the video?

heart boner. last night. handsome furs. bowery. fucking awesome.


that's all.

the verdict is still out on the perfect storm though. what the fuck was that? google is no help. well it was either ridiculously brilliant or just ridiculous. thoughts?

oh and i'm here to set the record straight, internet: dan boeckner did not attend columbia.

This is how I went crazy. Slowly and then quickly.

I was up late already last night. I got distracted by the past and didn't want to sleep. I was thinking about London. I was reading Sylvia Plath in my bed and listening to my Itunes. It was almost 2am.

I turned off my computer and put the book away. Turned off the light and put head to pillow ready to sleep. And then I heard a sound. Something vibrating. I thought maybe I had gotten a text message but my phone usually beeps along with vibrating when I get a message. Also the sound was muffled and my phone was right there on my night stand. I checked, no messages. I ignored it.

A minute later, and another vibration. I tried to think of what could possibly be making this noise and realized that, besides my silent phone, there was nothing. I ignored it and tried to sleep.

I wake up thinking it's morning. I swore my alarm had woken me up but when I look at the clock I realize it's only 2:40 and I had barely been asleep an hour. It was that sound that had woken me. That almost silent vibrating sound. I looked around trying to find the source - nothing. I got out of bed trying to see where the sound was loudest but there was no change in volume. I thought maybe it was an alarm of some kind going off but there was inconsistency to the vibrations. A minute apart and then a few minutes of silence and then three within thirty seconds. I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep but I couldn't. Every time my eyes closed it went off again and I would be awake. Loud car alarms I could sleep through but this damn near-silent vibration had me wide awake - and thoroughly pissed off. Past 3am at this point, I start getting paranoid. I start imagining scary movies where you realize that the killers under the bed after his cell phone goes off and the idiot victim is all "OMG - He's in the house!!" Luckily, I have so much crap crammed under my bed there's no room for B-movie villians but I check anyway. I look in the closets in the living room adjoining my room. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. And again the bzzzz of the phantom vibrations. By 4am I'm in tears. I just want to sleep. I just want to know what the f*** is making this sound. So I can destroy it. Crush it. Kill it. And then sleep. Peaceful sleep.

By 5, I think I've lost my mind. Maybe the sound is only in my head. Maybe it's the ghost of cell phones past. I think about sleeping on the living room couch but you can still hear it in there. I pull apart my room. Take my bed apart.

At 5:30am I give up. I put on my ipod earphones. Blast some Counting Crows and crash.

Two hours later my actual alarm goes off. I feel horrible and still a little crazy. I call into the office, opting for half a sick day. After I hang up the phone, I get back in bed, and I realize....silence. It's gone. Whatever it was, it's gone. And I sleep.

Tonight I'm sleeping at Alex's. If I hear it again when I'm back at my apartment tomorrow night, I may have to move. If I hear it again tonight at Alex's, I don't know what I'll do.

I am 32 flavors and then some...

But if you're looking for a little vanilla - check it. 

In completely and totally unrelated news (like not even a little bit related), I was totally going to post all sorts of awesomeness last night. Like about how Zooey Deschannel is my new bff, how I'm engaged and getting free meals, how bat shit crazy my family really is, how my mom hung up on me, how Mickey Dolenz and NKOTB are totally making my life right now, how sad Vampire Weekend and babies make me, how I'm thrilled and at the same time totally sad to be Tickles-less, how awesome sml cookies test run went, how I'm the star master, how I'm now a part of the Sara Kendall Trio - which actually really truly exists, how I'm embracing my complete nerdom and posting comic con pics, how the cat litter all over my floor makes me sad, how swallowing a bug only makes the top five list of gross things that happened to me last week, how much awesomer fantasy and lies are compared to reality, how gene chandler's gots moves, how much i love warm clothes weather, how much i detest being at the whim of people with cars, how much i love being car-less, how self-involved i really truly am, how i'm not a cat person, dog person, or people person and will surely die alone, but how being engaged fixes that problem, how i'm going to make my fiance clean up after me, cuz why else would you get engaged? how much i really want to watch newsies and dazed and confused right now and wish that a) i wasn't at work and b) i had a vcr or b) wish i had those movies on dvd cuz who even has vhs's anymore, and yes, all of this is really totally going on in my head right now and aren't you concerned for me??

but...i got distracted.

oops. sorry. try again later.

We Remember. 04.16.07

Remember. Honor. Act.

I'm obviously never getting on an elevator again.

well i thought about the army...

but dad said son you're fucking high.

so instead i decided to open a cookie bakery.

it would be called sml cookies.

cuz we'd sell small/medium/large cookies.

and cuz sara mennona loves cookies.

there's a logo and everything.

but i'm not allowed to show it to you.

cuz someone asked me not to.

and normally i wouldn't care and i'd post it anyway.

but i'm being nice today.

check back tomorrow.

also cuz it's on my computer at work.

and i'm at home.

and we'd have chocolate chip cookies.

but also like crazy chocolate, mint, peanut butter, sure to give you diabetes cookies.

that tasted like rainbows.

and love.

and people would come from far away.

like maine.

for my cookies.

and i'd be all cool working at my cookie bakery.

like maggie gyllenhaal.

and maybe i'd marry peter sarsgaard.

and we'd have a kid.

except without the having a kid thing.

and we'd start a club for people with double a's in their names.

and we'd serve sml cookies at all the club meetings.

and life would be good.

"son," she said. "have i got a little story for you..."

so pearl jam and ted leo and the pharmacists are playing the garden in june and while i think it'd be a cool show to see, here are my concerns:

1. madison square garden? both pearl jam and ted leo belong in a small venue or club. ted can't handle the garden and while pearl jam probably can, it's not gonna be pretty. put 'em in bowery or williamsburg and then you'd have a show to see.

2. $77? for serious?

3. pearl jam and ted leo? i <3 me some ted leo and i've got nothing against eddie but i just can't see them sharing a stage.

plus i'd be going mostly to see ted leo and he's pretty solid with closing out the free summer shows at mccarren park pool. which if you're following solves all three problems as it's not at the garden. it's not $77. and it's not with eddie vedder. is all i'm saying.

This is late, but then so were they.

april fools day. all day I was waiting for something from my brother. He's a prankster. Nothing.

April 2nd I get an email from Brother's Car Impoundment Unit with subject line: Your Car Reg. No. A102452110032 is ready for collection. The email informed me that at 9:35 that morning my car had been removed from my parent's address (where my car has been residing) for being illegally parked. The towaway was apparently authorized by Section 34.2 of 1999 Parking Regulations (SI 876). This email was followed by Alan Grohert with a subject line: Assistance with the ___ Account (an account I work on). Did I not mention that these were coming to my work email address? Alan wanted to inform me that my Account Director (her name was included in the email) asked him to contact me to work on a project. The email included the following P.S.: I'm actually naked in the office at the moment as everyone else is currently in a meeting. It's a great feeling of freedom. I'd recommend it to anyone. Throughout the day I received 14 more emails. One from a good friend asking me where I was the night before as she had waited for over an hour for me to arrive. One was to confirm a training day for "Elementary Telephone Skills" that my manager had apparently signed me up for since I have an "appalling telephone manner." Another from an assistant producer at an Adult Productions company informing me that a friend of mine (his name was included in the email) having appeared in a number of their DVD's including "Confessions of a Doofus" and "Wayne's Donkey" had suggested they contact me as I might have the right "assets" (and yes assets was in quotes in the email) to work within the growing adult entertainment business. A favorite of mine was from the head of my company discussing inappropriate activities in the work environment. It was a reminder that all employees have a duty to "uphold a basic standard of decency" in the office. So yeah, "In future, anyone found masturbating on the premises will face instant dismissal." There was an email from a high school crush. My order from Lucky Leo's Used Sex Toy's had been "despatched." Annonymous wrote me an ode to his llama: I will hug them, squish them, and love them forever... My clinic results were in and I have finally tested negative.

And my favorite:
Again from the owner of the company where I work. I have taken out all references to his name and the company name but they were all in the actual email.

Subject line: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re:Hey shit face.

Alright, that's enough, Sara. I can take a joke like anyone else, but you've now overstepped the mark and I am now obliged to start disciplinary proceedings against you. Using the email system for offensive and crude messaging is a clear breach of _______'s work policy.

This email constitutes a first written warning as set out in the terms and conditions of employment at _______. Any further infringements will lead to a second and final warning. Please note that your employment records will now be updated to incorporate this official reprimand.

______
_______

-----------------------------------------------------
>From: smennona@
>Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re:Hey shit face
>Date: 30 Mar, 2008 13:42
>To:
>
>Up your ass, dick head.
>
-----------------------------------------------------
>From:
>Subject: Re: Re: Re:Hey shit face
>Date: 30 Mar, 2008 13:42
>To:
>
>Come on, this is sounding a bit like you mean
>it. Just stop now before I take it seriously.
>
-----------------------------------------------------
>From:
>Subject: Re: Re:Hey shit face
>Date: 30 Mar, 2008 13:42
>To:
>
>No really, you are a shitface
>
-----------------------------------------------------
>From:
>Subject: Re:Hey shit face
>Date: 30 Mar, 2008 13:42
>To:
>
>Very funny Sara... have you been drinking *lol*
>
-----------------------------------------------------
>From:
>Subject: Hey shit face
>Date: 30 Mar, 2008 13:42
>To:
>
>Dear ______,
>
>I see your face looks like shit again!

while i'm stuck in my head i'm not getting anywhere

yesterday i had the following three things stuck in my head. nothing triggered them. they just appeared. and all day i kept repeating them. trying to remember where they were from. i was driving so i couldn't google it. eventually i figured out one of them. and googled the other two once i got home. one was this random line hallie lowenthal gives to graham on my so-called life about how "every conversation i have with you feels like the first one. i can't make any damn headway." i'm going to leave the other quote unattributed. points for you if you figure it out. or you can search it on imdb. the song i had stuck in my head was paul brill. i'm posting the video for the song. i had the song stuck in my head for days even before watching this brilliant video. now it's never going to go away.

"He's so cheesy I can't watch him without crackers."

come and sing it now...

I don't really know what to say about this but I felt inclined to post it so without further ado:

I could start an 'emails from my brother' blog.

I received this from Joe this morning:

HOLY COW (or should it be holy Llama?)!  My dreams have come true - now if only I can get Kristi to stop on her way home and pick up my new pet, my life will be complete!
I will hold it and hug it and squish it forever and ever!

someone should have told me...

about spring skiing.

i've been trying to plan one last trip up to vermont for some snowboarding before it gets too warm out. my sister wanted to go but we couldn't find a weekend that worked for both of us so we gave up. then i get an email from my brother telling me i should just come up on my own and that it would have to be in the next four weeks for them to be there and the mountain to still be open. turns out i'm free the last weekend of march so i start looking into the possibilty. i call my brother tonight to discuss plane vs. train dilemma and i inquire if it would still be cold enough for boarding and he says it would be spring skiing and i ask what's that.

this is the description he gave: basically it's 50 or 60 degress and you're boarding in a long-sleeve t-shirt and the snow is pretty soft and you're getting a tan as you're boarding.



and i'm wondering why no one has ever told me about this spring skiing thing and why i'm wasting my time being up there in january in negative 40 weather freezing my ass off and being miserable and falling on ice when i could've just waited for spring skiing. dude best idea ever!

so now the plane vs. train dilemma. either way i'm missing the same amount of time at work.

train is a little under $100. pros: penn station is super easy to get to. it's cheaper. probably a pretty cool trip - scenery-wise. good for the environment cons: 16-hour trip to be up there for one night.

i found a flight for $145 pros: much more time in vermont. cons: la guardia is annoying as hell to get to and pretty much the worst in the nation in terms of delays and canceled flights and such. slightly more expensive.

i hate making decisions. make it for me?

he was asking for it.

my brother can't tell me this story and not expect it to end up in my blog. for serious.

i thought ken had started it. she was the one who told me. years ago actually. she said your brother looks like a turtle. she didn't say it mean. she just said it as fact. and it was true.

then i'm in the museum of natural history with my brother and jill and there's this turtle and jill makes anthony stand near it to take a picture. i think i must have told her about ken's remark. but i hadn't. apparently she's been telling anthony that he looks like a turtle for years. i mean it's pretty obvious i guess.

take a look for yourself:


so i'm talking to anthony tonight and he tells me how he was at the doctor and she was telling him he has some back issues or something with his posture and stuff and she says part of it's the posture but that part of it is that his head just kind of sticks out from his head weird or something and he laughs and says that his sister always told him he looked like a turtle and that must be why. so he goes home and tells jill this and she says no i think you just look like turtle. although that probably doesn't help things.

redecorating.

i like to redecorate my apartment. in my mind. i like to create these really awesome spaces that don't actually exist. in reality when my friend first saw my room in my new apartment she remarked that it looked exactly like my room at my parent's, just moved 45 miles north. and in reality i don't have much control over the interior decoration of a lot of the rooms in my apartment since i share it with two other girls. so i redecorate it in my mind. i fill all the rooms of my apartment with wicked cool environmentally-conscious hand-made furniture that i could never afford or fit in my tiny apartment. i even redecorate the views from my windows in my apartment. instead of looking out onto a highway i can see the nyc skyline (except from the opposite direction of what i could see now if i could see the skyline from my window because in my mind i live in brooklyn) or palm trees and bridges (cuz sometimes in my mind i live in venice beach).

also in my mind. i'd totally decorate my kitchen around this silk-screen poster over at the small stakes:



wouldn't you want to live inside my head?

the set up.

my aunt is having work done on her house. she decides she wants to set me up with one of the guys doing the work. she asks me if 33 is too old for me. she brings me to the house to "meet" this guy which consists of the quickest of hello's ever. she asks if she can give him my number if he asks for it. i figure this guy isn't going to ask for my number after a two second meet n' greet. he does. he calls. we talk for approximately two seconds during which he asks if i like to drink and if i'd like to go to a beer fest in atlantic city. i agree to go cuz i'm not quick on my feet. in all honesty i'm good with beer, i hate atlantic city. also, a road trip to atlantic city with some guy i don't know = weirdest first date ever. but i figure it'll make for a good story so whatev.

then the regret sets in. not just because i've now committed to going to a beer fest in atlantic city with some 33-year-old named brian that i don't know who still lives with his parents (did i not mention that? yikes!), but more importantly, because my family knows him! so my aunt starts calling daily asking if brian has called yet. if we've made plans. when are we hanging out? then i go home for the weekend and i'm having dinner with my *almost* entire family and gigi starts bringing up this guy and asking all sorts of questions and then my mom gets in on it and i try to leave the table but i'm sitting in the back and no one will get up to let me out because they like to watch me suffer. and then i'm going bowling and my aunt asks if brian is going bowling. and i think she means my brother's friend brian since my brother was also going and his friend lives near the bowling alley and i say that i'm not sure. and then i realize she means brian brian and i think gross and i try to leave. but before i do i mention the billy joel tickets i got that morning and my mother says 'maybe brian would like to go to billy joel.' because yeah i'm going to waste a billy joel ticket on some guy i don't know. are you f'in kidding me!! so i go bowling and after bowling my aunt asks who came bowling and i tell her and i say brian and my aunt gets all excited and i wonder why she cares that much that mike's brother brian came bowling and then i realize she thinks brian came bowling and it makes my head almost explode.

and then nothing.

nothing from my mom. nothing from my aunt. and nothing from brian. the weekend i was supposed to be at the beer fest? nothing.

and i'm happy if not confused.

but then yesterday my aunt calls me. she asks about brian. i inform her he never called me back and that i'm okay with that and to just drop it. she informs me that she has also learned that he doesn't drive. doesn't even have his license. how i, someone living in jersey city without a car, was supposed to date someone not living in jersey city without a license is beyond me. but she continues. she informs me that there's a new guy working on the house. he's in his 30's. divorced. a teacher. and he wants her to set him up with me. i inquire why all these men working on my aunt's house want to be set up with me, someone they don't know at all. she says she shows them my picture. i inquire which picture. i think i must look pretty hot in this picture. she says the picture from the ski trip. the ski trip? i ask. the youth group ski trip? from high school? this guy wants to be set up with me based on a picture from when i'm 17!!!

she says she also shows them the picture of me with my cousins. in which i'm 19. which i guess is okay. cuz i'm legal?

If it's not a race then what's the point?

My brother = super athletic guy.

My brother also owns super pants but that's a different story for a different day.

My brother's activity of choice is biking. He's hardcore. I'd give you examples but I don't feel like it.

My brother also runs but not like he bikes. So we ran this race together back in the fall and my brother did alright. He didn't come in first or anything but his time was still really good.

So I say to him, if this were a bike race, he'd probably be up there with the first people to finish. He'd probably come in first, right? And he responds that when he participates in these group biking activites (also known as races) that it's not a race and he's not out to beat anyone else. And I respond that I understand that but if it were a race you would be considered the winner, correct? And he says, again, that it's not like that. He bikes for himself and not to beat anyone else. And I ask again, this time trying a different tactic, that if he were biking with a group of people, not in any way a race setting, but just biking to bike that due to his speed and the speed of the other bikers he would probably finish before the other bikers were to finish. Not because he was trying to beat them but just because he was faster.

My brother just looked at me funny and walked away.

Running Man

I have a love/hate relationship with running. In theory I want to be a runner and in reality I'm actually not a bad runner. And I'm pretty good at psyching myself up about running especially when it's warm out. But the actual act of running? Makes me want to hurt someone kinda.

And then my brother - major super athletic guy - is all like, come up to Vermont and run a lot with other people - it's like a race. But it doesn't matter who wins. It's just about the running. Which is total bs because why enter a race if you don't planning on winning. But I could plan on winning but then reality sets in and I'm almost beat by a 90-year-old woman.

So there's this race in Burlington in May. And I was all psyched about it because Jill and I were going to relay run the marathon, each running about 13 miles. Which, I know, is insane but I thought hey, it's only 13 miles I could totally run that! Reality has nothing to do with running. But then we didn't get picked in the lottery. Which I was almost kinda happy about because then I could say, well I was going to run 13 miles but they wouldn't let me! Damn them! All the while secretely pleased that I wouldn't have to run 13 miles. But as it turns out the actual marathon isn't lottery-based so anyone can do that. Well, anyone stupid enough to want to run 27 miles. And then the question arises...am I that stupid?

Because I think y'know as long as I don't die how cool would it be to be able to say I ran a freakin' marathon! But that's if I don't die. And 27 miles? That's like a really really long way. And well, I may have ulterior motives for the run. Because, well, and this is totally horribly embarrasing to even admit, but maybe a little bit has to do with the fact that my brother's really super cute friend might be running the race and yay I could spend time with really super cute friend but then also boo cuz he'd see how much I suck at running and at life and also I could die and that would kinda ruin any chance I'd have with brother's super cute friend but then I find out about this guy and I think man I need to run. I also need to go to England and make this guy my friend because seriously? Fags and booze? Coolest old guy ever!

Jeffrey Brown = Love

So I'm newly obsessed with alt/indie graphic novels. Forbidden Planet has become a very dangerous place for me, www.fartparty.org is like my new fav site, and Jeffrey Brown is totally my new imaginary boyfriend*.

So finding out that Jeff illustrated a video for Death Cab for Cute? Ummm...OMG! Like major!! [Note: overly exciting things make me talk/type/act like a moron]



*The fact that in most of Jeffrey Brown's books he actually very much reminds me of a recent boyfriend-like person in my life is only kinda weird and disturbing. I'd still date him.

A lesson in voice mail.

What to say to not get me to call you back:

Hey Sara, it's your dad. We did your taxes. Call me back and I'll let you know how much you owe us.

Yeah, I'm just rushing to talk to him after hearing that. The funny part is that when I finally did talk to my dad he informs me that in addition to the $40 I owe, I'm also getting back almost $400. Like, you couldn't open with that? Thanks Dad!

Clearly Jersey City wasn't far enough.

When you come from a small town, no matter how far away you move, you can never escape it.

I was home last weekend and ended up going bowling with a bunch of friends from high school. It was a strange array of people that included a bunch of my friends, their significant others, and a bunch of their siblings, mine included. My friend Mike was there with his new girlfriend. I arrived late and ended up at a lane with the people I brought, my brother, sister-in-law, and her brother, farthest away from Mike and his gf. The actual bowling has nothing to do with this story except to include the fact that we ended up closing the bowling alley and were still finishing up our last game when the house lights came on and my brother was up and totally fell on his ass mid-bowl and the guy gets on the little loudspeaker to announce "man down, man down!" and it was by far the funniest thing ever. Also of note is the fact that prior to arriving at the bowling alley I suggested guys vs. girls and Craig made a nice comment about how that wouldn't be fair to Jill and I as we would get our asses kicked. The first game in Jill and I collectively beat Anthony and Craig by about a 40 point margin. It was beautiful! And we can just ignore those second two games where I got my ass handed to me.

Anyway, the following day my aunt is asking about the bowling and who all was there. I mentioned Mike and his girlfriend and my aunt asked me about her since we live in a small town and everyone knows everyone and everyone's business. So I tell her that I didn't really get to meet her and I jokingly make note of the fact that Mike didn't even introduce us.

So today I get a text message from Mike informing me that he just got yelled at by his mom because my aunt told her that he didn't introduce me to his girlfriend.

Not small town enough for you? The other people bowling? Five were people I went to high school with. One was the little brother of one of the girls I graduated with who happens to be friends with the little brother of another girl that was there that night. Mike's brother was also there. He had gone to high school with my brother and his wife, also in attendance, and had just bought and is now living in my aunt's house which happens to be two houses away from the house I grew up in which happens to be next door to the girl and little brother (the one not in attendance) mentioned above.

"Well I was born in a small town and I live in a small town. Probably die in a small town. Oh, those small communities."

Worst nurse ever.

As if laughing at my ailments wasn't enough.

I was sick yesterday. I was at my parent's house and I was sick and my mom suggested I take something for the terrible sinus headache I had. I asked her what. I said I didn't want anything that would put me to sleep seeing as it was 6pm and I still had to get back to Jersey City. She suggested I take one of her Allegra-D's. She said it wouldn't make me drowsy. I listened.

I got back to Jersey City and was feeling a little better. I put all my clean laundry away and made my bed. Got ready for work and went to sleep. An hour later, at midnight I woke up. Exhausted, but couldn't sleep. I eventually fell back asleep only to awake again a half hour later. This continued until about 6am. I seriously got no sleep last night. None.

So when I got to work this morning I called my mom. I suggested maybe she put a note on the Allegra-D bottle warning that it shouldn't be taken at night since it will keep you up. I thought this information would be a surprise to my mom.

Not even. Her response: Oh, I know. You said you wanted something that wouldn't put you to sleep. I responded that, no, I didn't want to fall asleep at 6pm but I did, however, plan on sleeping at some point last night. My mom's response?

Oh, well, then you probably shouldn't have taken the Allegra-D.

Worse. Nurse. Ever.

I thought maybe someone had died.

While having dinner with my *almost* entire family, I announced some devastating news. You see back in high school I had a pretty major hard-core crush on one, well considering the nature of my announcement I won't name names, let's just call him L. He was beautiful. He was tall and blonde and man, what a body! Athletic and tattooed and four years my senior and a major bad-ass so of course, love. My crush began the first time I saw him at one of my dad's boy scout functions at age 8 and continued right up until freshman year when he was a senior. I can recall word by precious word all two of the conversations I had with him. I would forever hold dear the idea that he was still driving around in the car he bought from my brother, a car I, too, had driven in many times. The end of my freshman year was the last time I saw L.

Eleven years did not hinder my crush. If anything, the time and distance only strengthened my feelings for L. I held dear in my heart the hope that I would one day randomly run into L. and he would of course immediately recognize me and fall madly in love with me and we would live happily ever after. I ignored the fact that over time I had completely forgotten what this guy even looked like. I ignored the fact while in the process of moving stumbled upon my old high school yearbooks, looked at his picture, and had to do a double-take, almost questioning what I saw in this person so long ago. Despite all this, I continued my crush, my hope, my love.

I recently stumbled upon (I was not stalking, I very honestly, and literally, stumbled upon) a picture of L. on myspace. And my tragic, devastating news?

Dude's fugly. Bloated and balding and dirt bag-y. I thought maybe it was the angle of the picture but there was another one and...it was worse!! An eighteen year crush crushed in a matter of seconds. A terrible terrible loss. A horrific stain on my happy childhood memory.

My family's response:

Joe: Doesn't he live in Arizona?
Anthony: I thought he moved to California?
Dad: No, he's a chef in Boston. He's married and has a kid.
me: Well, I would hope so, cuz his chick picking-up time has surely passed.
Jill: If I remember correctly, wasn't he always kind of dirt bag-ish.
me: Don't say such things!
Anthony: Yeah, he was never really all that attractive.
me: Blasphemy!
mom: Wait, that's your terrible news? I thought maybe someone had died.
me: No, only a small part of my heart.

Barack Obama made me a mix tape.

Go here: Barack Obama is your new bicycle.

It's like a ridiculously fun time waster. And today is a day of time wasting.

please don't let this catch on.

I understand the concept. I get the convenience of a hands-free umbrella. I get that this might be sturdier and more protective in rain and cold weather and all that jazz. I get the reasoning behind it, but really? It's weird looking. And if I saw anyone using one, I'd have to laugh at them. Probably while pointing. Because as good an idea as putting your head in a bubble might seem, it looks f'in ridiculous. So even if Daily Candy is promoting it. Save your $70 and keep your friends.



Don't like your money or your friends and want to get rid of them both in one quick shot and look ridiculous in the process?
Then a Nubrella is probably for you.

i want to live here.

like for serious.

no, she's more like the cool chick from the craft

So I'm at the Band of Horses show last night and I run into a girl I went to college with. This wouldn't be all that eventful except that I went to college in Virginia and the show was in Brooklyn - so a little random. But not entirely since I knew this girl was working in the city and I had actually run into her once before a few years ago while waiting to get on the subway. So I'm catching up with her and she informs that just that afternoon she ran into another girl we had graduated with. Big city, small world!

So one of the girls I'm at the show with is astounded by this occurrence, stating that she's never run into anyone she's known in the city and she went to school there! So I tell her how just after starting my job last winter I ran into a sorta ex-boyfriend and his wife at Urban Outfitters in the city and ended up having dinner with them, which of course astounded her even further.

Then I just blow her mind with this little story that I like to call, "J.R., Cinderella could've been your mommy."

A few years back my father and I took my nephew to Disney World. While there we took J.R. to see Cinderella. As he approaches her for a picture she asks him what his name is and he replies, "Joseph Roy Mennona" like a good little boy and she asks him where he's from and he responds New Jersey. After the picture is taken, Cinderella leans over to me and whispers, "I think I dated your brother."

After a little investigative work I find out that Cinderella is from my town and did in fact date my brother. Also, her sister was my middle school history teacher.

And this completely blows this girl's mind. She is completely convinced I'm a witch with weird connective powers or something.

So I continue that while in Florida we stayed with my dad's best friend from high school who had retired down there. While there his wife takes a picture of me, J.R., and my father. My parents then send a copy of this picture to my other brother living in Vermont. He puts the picture up in his office at work and one of his co-workers sees it and recognizes the picture from seeing it hanging up at her aunt's house in Florida! Turns out my brother's been working with my dad's high school friend's niece (all originally from NJ but now scattered all across the east coast) for months without anyone realizing it.

The girl I'm telling the story to is now completely freaked out and has me tell the whole story to her friend, the whole time yelling that I'm a witch.

Her friend responds that I'm not so much a witch as I am more like the cool chick from The Craft.

I'll take it.

valentine's day awesomeness

band of horses show + custom-made t-shirt designs from ben = v-day awesomeness.

suppose i kept on singing love songs just to break my own fall.

Regina Spektor, will you be my Valentine?



i love you, regina spektor. i love listening to you. i love that listening to you reminds me of driving to boston with the windows down. reminds me of farmers markets in vermont. and of flowers. and of philly jill. and of summer. and sun. and that these thoughts can make me smile even when it's frigidly cold out and my car is far away and boston is far away and farmers markets are far away and flowers and summer and philly jill are all far away. all i have to do is hear "on the radio" and it all seems so close. and i want to thank you for that, regina spektor.

let's not forget how gorgeous and fabulous you are. can i maybe raid your closet some time? and that voice. and that piano. and those lyrics. and i want to be you, regina spektor. or be your friend. or your sister. or your girlfriend. anything really.

so basically what i'm saying is that unless you are regina spektor. you also love regina spektor. or you want to hear about exactly how fabulous regina spektor is today. or if you have news about regina spektor touring closer to ny than norfolk, va. if none of these things are true, then maybe you should probably not talk to me today.

i'm just saying.

other girl crushes include: ani difranco. nellie mckay. zooey deschanel. amanda peet. jenny lewis. (not that that makes my love for you, regina spektor, anything less)

i want a non-existent romantic hero.

Valentine's Day = blah.

I don't even have enough energy for the "holiday" to get into the whole consumeristic, commercial, Hallmark-created holiday bullshit. I mean, it's all true. But I like chocolate so any holiday that provides me with chocolate - even if it's just coming from my parent's - I'm cool with.

But, if I were to receive this:



I would've maybe had to have changed my mind on the subject.

For now I'm sticking with my cynical view:


t-shirt and bear can be found @ love is lame.

Happy Valentine's Day, y'all!

Not getting my hopes up...

Remember that guy I met on the PATH at 4am? I mentioned that I didn't give the guy my number, but I did give him my email address. I did this because in discussing running he made mention of some NY Times article he thought would be of interest to me, and also because he asked for it and I wasn't just going to say no. Now had he asked for my number that might've been another story but luckily he didn't.

Anyway, a few days pass and no word from drunk random writer guy. I'm not too disappointed as I wasn't actually interested in this guy in any way - through no fault of his own though, he wasn't bad looking or anything - but it bruised the ego a little. I couldn't help feeling rejected even if it was by someone I didn't care about or even know.

So then I'm surprised to finally get an email from this guy. No NY Times article attached of course. And a note that goes along the lines of "I think I remember you. I'm embarrassed since I was drunk and am not even entirely sure I remember who you are but if you are the girl I spoke with on the PATH last weekend and you remember me and are interested in some interesting conversation, here's my number."

and then he says this:

"But don't get your hopes up because I will be leaving the country soon."

Seriously?? Seriously!! Don't get my hopes up? I don't know you. You barely remember even meeting me. And you're telling me not to get my hopes up?

And I already thought of names for our kids. Darn.

accidental insensitivity.

last week was my sister's birthday. i knew it all day. when i got home i forgot. momentarily. the phone rang and i remembered again and swore after i got off the phone with whoever was calling i would call my sis. but of course it was my sis calling me. who does that? she says she'd had a few drinks and felt it okay to start calling people to make them wish her a happy birthday. i thought this was fair.

while on the phone i start doing the math to figure out how old my sister was now. i think to myself that i'll be 26 on monday so that would make my sister...and then i react...

by yelling out 'oh shit!'

my sister is all a-worry - did you fall? did you hurt something? are you okay?

i sheepishly respond that i just figured out how old she was now. i didn't even mean to be mean.

but i mean - 37? that's old, right?

i tried to make her feel better by reminding her that beth from the real world was 39. i don't think it helped.

happy birthday to me.

some memorable february 11ths:

february 11, 1963: sylvia plath kills herself.

february 11, 1982: i'm totally born.

february 11, 1993: blizzard. birthday cancelled. mrs. smith bakes me a cake.

february 11, 1997: sleepover. my bff came late because she was too busy going to the valentine's dance with the boy i very regrettably had a crush on at the time.

february 11, 1998: joint sweet 16 with jm. regrettably danced with boy from previous birthday disaster. wore dress from delia's mrs. smith gave me.

february 11, 1999: jill took me to get my license. shockingly passed driving test. found a pair of pants (that i still own) and sweater on sale at american eagle. had lunch at applebee's. purchased the caddy. took ken, meg, and d for a ride to birch hill and back. received the original fizz tape along with tickets to see love of my life billy joel from my best-y.

february 11, 2000: hung out with strange assortment of parkway girls and jm's friends. after everyone left drove with jm and jean bean to the beach. realized it was february. purchased losing lottery ticket. drove home.

february 11, 2001: february 1st, my uncle pete passes away. ken, meg, and d visit me at m-mount. take disgusting test tube shots in my dorm room. get a ride with immaculate sue's stoned friend to the metro. go to some club in dc. spend the majority of the month of february avoiding ken (married ken, not bff ken) who attempts to woo me by taking my roommate out and giving me a box of poptarts for valentine's day. spend prez weekend in b-more to see rent with assorted people i don't really remember being friends with.

february 11, 2003: it was a tuesday. i turned 21. had two exams and a paper due. met helen thomas. took a shot with married sketchy jacon. drank booze in my dorm room with all my underage friends.

february 11, 2005: got a tattoo.

february 11, 2006: best birthday.

february 11, 2007: jacqui's valentine's day party with ken, don, and ben. took my first ever journey shot.

things i'm missing about college these days:

1. care packages. i realize i only moved 45 minutes away. and that i'm home almost every weekend doing laundry. and that i'm not 18 anymore. but my parents could still send me care packages. or y'know, you could.

2. mail. my sister used to send wicked cool postcards and danielle sent the best letters. mostly to make up for the fact that she'd never call. now she doesn't call. or write.

3. learning stuff. i was way smarter four years ago.

4. friends. my friends were all so near-by. jennie was rarely more than a few feet from my side. i miss that.

5. readily available food. be it crappy caf food or a variety of fast food - food was always right there. and no cooking.

6. sleeping in. how sweet was that.

7. vacations. summer vacation. winter vacation. it was like i never had class. what i would give for a vacation right now.

8. money. i don't know how i seemed to have more money in college when i wasn't doing shit and now that i'm actually making a semi-reasonable salary i'm always broke. but that's how it was.

9. boys. i was so much more popular in virginia.

10. thinking about the future. it was a lot easier to say four years ago that we would totally do london '07 because by then we'd all be settled in our fabulous money-making careers and doing all these fabulous things.

frenchin' at 205.

saturday night. sorta bday celebration for jm and myself. i invited my best-y but since it was in the city she was a no-go. i didn't bother to really invite anyone else. i mentioned it two friends who live near the city. they were both down. neither showed. this is how the night began. not a good sign.

that afternoon i get a text from a 'roe buddy asking if i'd be in that area that night. i inform him i would not but that he should come out to the city for my bday. he claims he would've had he had more than a few hours notice. i blame ken since had she wanted to come out i would've invited everyone but since she didn't i didn't bother inviting the boys. not only do i feel like i have no friends since no one came out but now mf's pissed at me for not having invited him sooner. let's add that to the list of things that went wrong.

got dinner at stand with jm and her bf and her friend and her friend's bf. despite the fact that i am almost constantly hanging out with ken and don and am almost always 3rd or 5th wheelin' it, i have never felt more like a 5th wheel than i did at that dinner.

we inexplicably drive around the city for about an hour. what we're even doing in a car in the city in the first place is beyond me. we head over to sweet and vicious where a former kkp-er is celebrating her bday. it's small and crowded. i say my hello's and leave to meet back up with jm, etc. at 205. i remember 205 from halloween when i made friends with a creepy old french guy to get in on his table service. i resolve not to make friends with any creepy old french guys tonight. i find jm, etc. and am informed that jm's bf saw an olsen when they got there. my night is picking up.

despite dancing and relatively enjoying hanging out at 205 with jm, etc. i'm still sorta cranky for no reason. then i meet random french guy. luckily not creepy or old and a good dancer even but still not exactly what i need to get out of my grumpisness. i pull the bathroom card and lose frenchie.

i bail on 205 and jm,etc. around 3:30am. i consider taking a cab to the path as it's 3:30am, 40 degrees out, i'm wearing heels, am alone, and in the lower east side (nowhere near the 9th street path station). so of course i decide to walk. i listen to a lot of third eye blind on my ipod as i walk and feel weirdly fine. i get to the path by 4am and am waiting in the crazy drunk crowd for a train. i'm wearing my headphones, am still kinda in a mood, and considering even when perfectly content i still look like i hate the world, i'm imagining that i'm not looking entirely inviting at the moment so i'm surprised when the guy standing across from me starts talking to me. he inquires if i'm a dancer. i inform him i am not. i think it's a lame line even coming from a stupid 4am drunk guy. then he asks if i'm in my pajamas. i think this is the worst line ever and then i realize that my jacket is longer than my dress and so it just looks like i'm wearing leggings and heels - not exactly sleep wear but i see where he was confused. the path shows up and we board and he's telling me that he's a writer who's been out of the country for the last 4 years, traveling and writing. some weird gypsy-looking chick sitting near us starts motioning towards us, winking and bowing her head. giving us her blessing or cursing us. i'm not sure which. she then passes out. writer guy continues to talk all the way to journal square. he gets off the train and says he'll call me. i do not remind him that he doesn't have my number.

it's 5am. i put my headphones back on. motorcycle drive-by comes on. fitting i think. i remember that my car is parked at the path. finally i'm out of my bad mood.

that will make it harder to heal.

so apparently the piano at my parent's house is the same height as the railing around the stairs at my brother's house. i know this because i walked into the piano at my parent's house and hit my leg in the absolute exact same spot as the bruise that was just starting to fade that i got from walking into the stairs railing.

also, while inspecting the now much worse bruise i noticed that i have two large scrapes on my leg below the bruise that i never noticed before. i think i was distracted by the large, constantly changing color bruise that's been there for 3 weeks now. i do not know where or when these scrapes are from. i have literally no clue.

this plane is definitely going to crash.

i don't like the cold. that's been well established i think. i kinda hate it. october and november are okay. there's novelty in the cold. and then there's the random warm day thrown in and it all feels okay. december is okay. it's the holidays. it's supposed to be cold. white christmas and all that jazz. then january happens. and from there it all goes down hill. fast.

i tend to hibernate in the winter. i'm so much better in the summer. really.

the one thing i do like about the cold. snowboarding. so i plan a trip up to vermont for martin luther king weekend. since i'm going alone and don't have a car nearby i decide to fly. i book a flight leaving out of jfk the thursday afternoon prior to mlk day. i decide to take a half vacay day and go straight to the airport from the office. this seems like a brilliant plan. i book the flight. i'm psyched.

then i'm sick. i know. seriously. when am i not sick. could i go to vermont and not be sick? i'm starting to think maybe not.

i'm sick the whole week prior to my trip. mostly just a cold. but i can feel it building. getting worse. every day. i know it's waiting. it's waiting for the exact day i'm supposed to leave. to get worse. to ruin my trip. i know.

thursday morning i wake up. i feel like crap. i've gotten just a few hours of sleep since i procrastinated on packing and was up most of the night prior doing so. i call out of work figuring a few more hours of sleep might make me feel better. it really doesn't. i head to the airport. jersey city to jfk = 2 hours. flight from jfk to vermont = 45 minutes. seriously. of course 2 hours and 45 minutes is still a world better than 7 hours in a car (plus a 2 hour train ride to get the car).

i get to the airport with an hour to spare. stock up on mags and candy and get some lunch. they announce my flight. i'm about to board. i'm waiting for them to call my row. i'm listening to my ipod. it's on shuffle. i hear a modest mouse song i've never heard before play. all i hear is a voice screaming, "THIS PLANE IS DEFINITELY GOING TO CRASH!" I don't know how to proceed. I look around, needing to share this ridiculousness with someone. They call my row. I consider calling a friend to relay what I just heard as I'm about to board a plane. I worry that if the plane does crash that the irony of the situation will be lost forever. I also worry though that someone might over hear the call and me saying, "this plane is definitely going to crash," and maybe arrest me.

The plane doesn't crash. I make it to Vermont.

Jill picks me up at the airport. I inform her that I am sick. She informs me that both her and my brother are also sick. Both are on antibiotics. Essentially we're a mess.

Jill is supposed to take off work on Friday so we can go to the mountain. She in unable to do so. I figure I can just take a walk into town while her and my brother are at work. Just hang out in Montpelier for the afternoon. I end up sleeping most of Friday away. Once awake, I get ready to walk into town. I sit down to put on my boots. The longer I'm awake the worse I feel. I decide to sit for a minute before heading out into the cold with a cold. There's an American's Next Top Model marathon on. I don't leave the couch.

My brother eventually gets home. He half-assedly gives me shit about wasting my day, although, I can tell that he feels just as much like shit as I do and probably wishes he had had the opportunity to spend the day watching ANTM reruns. We get the girls ready to take them for a walk. They see their leashes and Anthony moving towards the door and they start barking and screeching and running for the door in excitement. Sadie sits nicely, yelping a little. Ava is a little maniac, attacking the door and making the weirdest little noises I've ever heard come out of a dog. I determine after a while that she sounds like Chewbacca.

Me and my brother walk down to Montpelier. I hit up the wicked cool antique shop on Main Street while Anthony waits outside with the girls. Then we head behind the main part of town to a path leading up a hill. Anthony informs me this is the way to the "park" so I follow him. It's cold and there is snow and this feels an awful lot like hiking and I'm skeptical of what we are going to find at the top of this hill. I'm pretty sure there will be no swings or slides up there or any other sort of park-like items and thus question his use of the term park at all. Also, it's getting dark.

I brought along with me three cameras: a canon elph, a holga, and an old kodak brownie that I'm not entirely sure even works anymore. I stop along the walk to use the brownie. As it doesn't have a flash I want to get some shots in while there's still light out. I also take some quick shots with the holga which I haven't used before. While I love the instant gratification of getting to see my pictures immediately on my digital, I realize I've missed the allure of having to wait to get pictures developed to see what I got. My brother yells at me for being so slow. Informing me that I should wait to get to the top to take pictures and that if I keep stopping there won't be any light at all by the time we get there. I'm pretty cynical about what's waiting for me at the top of this hill so I keep strolling and snapping.

Sadie stops momentarily a couple of times along the walk to relieve herself so to speak. after which she kicks the area with her back feet causing dirt and snow and crap to fly up into the air. as i'm dawdling i find myself behind sadie for most of the walk. this places me right in the line of fire during this little shit-kicking activity. the inappropriateness of the situation is ridiculous.

we eventually make it to "the park." as expected there are no swings, slides, or other park-like items. there is however some sort of brick castle-like structure that you can climb up for an amazing view of montpelier. so anthony and i climb up to the top with the girls. at this point it is far too dark to get any good shots in - as anthony of course predicted. ava attempts to jump off the castle, which pretty much means it's time to get back down to safety. anthony puts sadie and ava back on their leashes and gives me ava's leash to get her down the stairs. here's the problem: i'm afraid of stairs. i'm not afraid of heights. i'm afraid of stairs. mostly going down stairs. and escalators. more so escalators. but certain stairs. really steep stairs. really windy stairs. so these stairs, really steep, windy, and wet and icy stairs - i'm not okay with them. on my own, walking slowly, carefully, i'm not okay with them. getting dragged down them by an out of control dog? definitely not okay. not my favorite part of the trip. i'm just saying. we somehow walk farther up the hill to get back down and then go back to the house for dinner.

then it's saturday and it's snowboarding time. i want to be psyched cuz this is my first time riding with my brand spankin' new snowboarding boots. i'm always riding with jill's old boots, board, and bindings, and the board and bindings are fine, but the boots are about a half size too small which is no good so i finally got around to getting my own boots. and here i am on their inaugral ride and i feel like crap. i make it to the top of the lift and off the chair lift succesfully. i note that this chair lift - one we don't usually take - has an especially steep hill coming off of it and that there are two really inappropriately placed poles right at the bottom of the hill. i'm amazed i don't ride right into the pole but i don't. i strap in and am ready to ride. except not really. because i feel like crap. and i seem to have forgotten how to snowboard. about half way down i take a really hard fall and feel a little dizzy when i get back up. i decide i need a break and go and get some hot chocolate when i make it to the bottom. i'm determined not to give up so easily. i came up to vermont to snowboard and that's what i'm going to do. i go back up the lift with anthony. i forget about the completely inappropriately placed poles. i ride directly into the pole. i am laying flat on my back, board up against the pole. my brother is standing over me, laughing, he points out that you're supposed to avoid the poles, not aim for them. thanks. ass.

i do two successful runs before i get a migraine and have to throw in the towel. i wait at the bar with jill for anthony to finish riding and we head home. i'm miserably sick saturday night and pass out on the couch.

i feel a little better on sunday. i hang around the house with jill and the dogs and then take a walk into town while jill watches football.

i am finally feeling better on monday. jill has to work but anthony has the day off. we head to the mountain with the girls. we don't feel like spending the money on lift tickets so anthony suggests we hike up a closed lift and ride back down. this seems like a good idea. sort of. the hike up takes about 40 minutes and my complaining is actually kept to a minimum. we make it to the top of the lift - which just so happens to be the same lift where i boarded right into the poles, so we reminisce about that for a bit - and hang out in the little house on the top of the mountain for some lunch. the view is utterly amazing and the sun is starting to set. we decide to head back down and anthony chooses then to inform me that the girls don't really like snowboards and that they may freak out a bit when you put yours on. this is by no means an understatement. ava yaps a little and runs around a bit, sadie jumps on me, barkling like mad. anthony tells me that the dogs will just run on ahead down the mountain once we get going. this is a lie. ava takes off but sadie runs alongside me. then sadie decides to run ahead of me, stop directly in my path, turn around and stare me down as i come barreling down towards her. i'm an okay snowboarder. i'm getting better. but i am in no way a good enough snowboarder to try to avoid a moving animal who is actively trying to stand in my way. i seriously didn't think we were both going to make it down the mountain alive. at one point anthony picks up ava and rides down the mountain carrying her. sadie sees this, bolts after anthony, lunges into the air at anthony, flips over and lands flat on her back onto the snowboard. i was pretty sure she was a goner but nope, she hops right back up and starts chasing me again. somehow, we make it to the bottom of the mountain alive.

my brother asks me, 'now wasn't that worth saving $70 on a lift ticket?'

i tell him that it was if you only wanted to take one ride down the mountain like we did. that it was a nice hike and a nice little afternoon activity. it would not, however, be worth it, if you planned on doing more than one run and had to do a 40 minute hike for a 15 minute ride over and over again. that would just make you a cheap ass.

i leave tuesday morning. jill drives me to the airport at 4:30am for my 6am flight. there is an unexpected 45 minute line to get through security. i make my flight by 2 minutes. i do not listen to my ipod and my plan does not crash.