My friend Katie and I discussed our impending birthdays and soon-to-be-33-days and the cresting into our middle thirty days. After running through the mysterious increase in complexity that is drowning our lives (“But Nothing Has Changed Since We Were 26 and Yet Everything Feels Like More of a Pain in the Ass” was the refrain) and determining that we are far from the expectations of ourselves that we held 10 years ago we sat, no drinks in hand, and took it all in.
I’ve never more wanted to drop 2 tabs of acid and call it a night.
There you have it. My first brush with the midlife crisis.
my underwear were advertised as “invisible” because they’re designed to immediately ride up the ass and thus hide from view.
My friend and I stopped by the free Grace Potter show — Yes, I’m emphasizing the word free to preserve my dignity — and we went for selfish Potter related reasons, since my companion shares the name.
But it was not without its charms.
Foremost, I was pleased to see a black teen and his brother betray their race play some mean air guitar, along with the Nocturnals no less. That’s equivalent to advanced Guitar Hero, no?
The couple that was feeling Grace for real, that picked up everything she put down, well they stood right in front of me, flaunting moves they hadn’t busted since Def Leppard 1991, when they were freshman at Babson.
But nothing pleased me more than the man who looked like Willie Nelson on his fifth bennie. Clad in head to shin blue plaid — long sleeve button down and jams — and flesh colored crew socks, he noodle danced the night away.
In the end It was kind of magical, as the sun went down and the air cooled and the Bank of America employees came out to hear some music… standing in the crowd with my Potter, watching them watch their Potter, on a summer night in NYC.
How is it that I bought my first MINIMIZER BRA??
This just makes no sense. I’ve lived in Beijing. I know that my chest is supposed to look like a serving plate.
A guy I knew in high school named Chris is now named ‘Chrys.’
I really am so glad that I didn’t marry the guy to whom I lost my virginity.
A woman I once adored is still adorable!
I’m deeply afraid of the past.
Stalking: not so interesting as one might think.
Baby photos: far more intriguing than I had imagined.