I know why people complain about New York summers now. Today is the most disgusting day I've ever lived through. It's 95 degrees at 70 percent humidity. It is, literally, like a sauna. I am, literally, in need of popsicles, but they will melt on the walk home.
I found out who Dave's dating: it's my friend Emily. She emailed me and told me. I am strangely okay with it. Not distressed, not jealous, not upset. I haven't had the urge to cry; I haven't even teared up. This is odd to me, the girl who cries at the most insignificant beauty, the girl who weeps at the symphony, the girl who cries as a means of relieving stress. It's made me realize that I really didn't like him as much as I thought I did. I was so emotionally involved that I kidded myself into thinking I adored him. There are a lot of things about him I like--a lot--but heck, I was rarely myself around him, at least not the side of myself I consider my best side. He didn't bring that out in me. It never would've worked is what I'm trying to say, and any residual melancholy I feel isn't so much over losing him--it's over not having found anyone better.
Montauk was a blast. A serious blast. We saw Jay-Z in the Hamptons. My skin is so sunburned, I feel like I'm going to morph (Animorphs!) into an alligator. My legs are covered in welts from mosquito bites. My luscious lips are cracked and tend toward bleeding (though they haven't actually bled yet). But I love it all. I love feeling. I love being uncomfortable. I love knowing I am alive.
When I was at Fairway a few weeks ago (for those of you who don't know, Fairway is a posh grocer here in Manhattan), I accidentally bought No Sodium bread. Not just Low Sodium, we're talking ZERO sodium. And it was also $3.00. Rather than throwing away twelve perfectly good sandwiches, I've slowly been consuming this tasteless brown matter, sometimes sprinkling a little salt directly on the bread to make it more palatable. I will not make this mistake again.
My editor, Laarni, asked me today if I would cover the launch of Guitar Hero 3. Would I?! Anyone who knows me well knows that I can't get enough of that game. My records on all my friend's memory cards proves it. So yes. Come July 26 I will meet my greatest weakness face to face: it--new and improved, me--out of practice and fingers out of shape. Let's hope I can rock it still. Hopefully I'll get some cool RedOctane swag too.
My band may get back together this fall. You see, my beautiful friend Barbie is moving back to Utah! She got a job as the lead designer for the Salt Lake Tribune, quite an accomplishment for a barely graduated college student. So luckily I will have her back this fall. Wonderful!
PS I am so in love with love.
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Welcome back from Montauk!
Sunburn was the order of the day here as well. Tom designs, among other things, waterparks. Sarah has alligator skin this week too from opening day of the new wave pool at Mt Olympus. In looking at her pictures (on my myspace) MAN! is she white!
It reminded me of when my inlaws were on their mission in the Phillipines. I sent them one of those naked baby in the bathtub shots of John-Ross. My MIL wrote back and told me that people couldn't believe how someone could be so white, even under their clothing.
While staying up late waiting for Sarah to come home (her dating is really throwing off my sleep schedule!) I read some of your older blogs...The Clift, my absolute favorite hotel ever!
I was a regular "back in the day". I would spend the weekend at my grandparents and we would go into The City. We'd drive up from San Leandro or down from Napa, depending on where they lived. We'd "dress" and stay at the Clift. We'd shop and and hang out in the Redwood Room. I'd order a Shirley Temple or tonic with a twist and my grandmother and aunts would have their gin & tonic, Tanqueray please. Great memories. I remember once checking in behind a family with teenage boys. They were turned away because the boys needed haircuts and jackets. The parents came back with freshly shorn and jacketed sons. Wow! Part of me is sad that those dress for dinner days are gone. Wouldn't it be loverly if people did that more often?
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