Tag Archives: scattered

A Bunch Of Things

I’m excited about my wedding.  But there are some danger zones.  Wedding magazines are terrible, TERRIBLE things.  They make you think that you need to do all this stupid stuff.  You don’t need to do stupid stuff, everybody.  You don’t.  I’m not throwing a bouquet.  It’s embarrassing and it feels like I’m making fun of my single friends and I hated standing there while the bride threw the bouquet when I was single so I won’t be subjecting my friends and family to that.  I’m not saving the top layer of my wedding cake to freeze and then eat later.  That’s gross.  No offense to anyone who did that or plans to do that in the future.  More power to you.  But my God, wedding magazines, they make it seem like that’s what everyone does.  I don’t want to.  Wedding magazines can suck it.

I’ve been telling lots of things to suck it lately.  Kathy Griffin must be influencing me.  She is awesome.  Me and Katie Fay saw her do stand up a couple weeks ago and she was so fun.  We would probably be besties, me and Kathy Griffin.  I think she would like me.

Had dinner and drinks and TV watching last night with Karl and Meghan and my oh my how nice it is to see friends.  We had a lovely time.  Except when this girl in my neighborhood watched me parallel park my car in front of hers and then, when I got out of the car to walk into my apartment she said “That car you parked in front of?  That’s my car.  Did you hit it?  Did you damage it?  Just tell me if you damaged it.”  And I said “No.  I am very good at parallel parking.  I didn’t touch your car.”  It was really weird and awkward and I really didn’t touch her car at all.  In fact it was a masterful parallel parking job I did and I didn’t appreciate her insinuating that I hit her car.  Who does that?  Who asks strangers these things?  I live in a tough-ish neighborhood and I guess she was probably just posturing or maybe she was tipsy and belligerent, but it really bothered me.  I didn’t grow up in a tough neighborhood.  I’m from Fairfield County.  The scariest thing in Fairfield County is… nothing.  Nothing is scary in Fairfield County.  Actually, the scariest thing in Fairfield County is cops.  They pull you over and give you speeding tickets.  They get you in trouble.  Also, my mom is a scary thing in Fairfield County.  But as far as strangers talking to you on the street, no way.  Not an issue.  Everybody keeps to themselves and nobody looks at or talks to each other because everybody is always in their car.  There’s no human interaction unless it’s planned in advance.  So maybe it’s better in my tough-ish neighborhood.  Because at least we’re all there together, acknowledging each other.

I’m reading a really interesting book right now, recommended to me by Kristian, called The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion.  I saw Away We Go a couple nights ago.  Both these things make me want to write more.  And better.  I think after this rambling blog post is done I will get to work on starting a play I’ve been meaning to start for a month or so.  It was suggested that we have a draft of a full-length play ready to hear and revise by the beginning of the fall semester and the beginning of our MFA carreers.  So I should get started on that.  And I will.  Soon.  Today.  Away We Go was so good.  I just really liked it.  I’ll see it again with somebody if they want to see it.  It made me happy and inspired.

Also, yes, I have a giant intellectual/friend crush on Dave Eggers.  Everybody knows this about me.  I adapted his stories into a play and now it’s going to be performed in New York at the Fringe and I love every book he’s written and everything he is involved with and I love his philosophy of giving things away and helping the world.  I read this article about him in a stolen issue of this magazine called Ode (I’ve never heard of it either, but I was sorting the mail the other day and I saw his name on the cover so I swiped it.  I’m not proud of myself.  Also, I gave it back after I read the article.) about why he gives money away.  And it inspired me to volunteer at 826 Boston.

BU has a farmers market on Thursdays now.  I think that’s cool.  Local food is something I can really get behind.  It just makes so much sense.  The problem is avocados.  I fucking love them and they grow in the desert.  And, as evidenced by the weather in Boston this month, this is not the desert.  So if I go hardcore with local food then I can’t eat avocados and is life really worth living if you can’t eat avocados?  No.  No, it is not.

And finally, this.

You’re welcome.

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