Quick Quick! The ten days of my birthday start tomorrow and I don't have a thing to wear! ahh, that is, I don't have a thing to do. I need to come up with something and fast. Its First Friday and there are countless gallery openings. There is a good rock show (stinking liz) over on Drexel's campus, but none of these things are all that different; I would do them anyway. What I need is something unique and exciting- something peculiar and uncommon. crap, I am really drawing a blank here.

Well anyway, tonight Burning Brides is playing and I am super pleased about that. Last night Todd made dinner for Ken and Devon (from this point forward, collectively know as "kevon") and I and it was really great. That boy can make a mean casserole.

Oh and there was Vegas. Vegas. What the fuck? What am I supposed to say? Just, "Vegas".

Miranda's wedding was just perfect and she looked so totally beautiful. I don't know if I should share this or not, but I thought it was the swellest thing I had ever heard: So both Miranda and her Todd are super emotional and nervous about this whole thing cause you know... they are getting married and what not. After the ceremony Miranda confided in me that the only way she had kept from crying was by constantly reminding herself that her mascara was not water proof. Later I over heard Todd telling her that he had been so nervous that he came close to hyperventilating, but was able to calm himself by listing and reciting the starting lineup of the Atlanta Braves. I just found that SO incredibly charming. Cause see, neither Mir nor Todd are that kind of people you'd think of in terms of makeup and baseball. It just goes to show the extreme things our brains will do to manage and maintain ourselves during intense emotional (or physical) circumstances. Like for instance, on the the flight home from Nevada I was so physically uncomfortable (this no doubt being a direct result of my insane plane claustrophobia/anxiety and my desert induced dehydration) that I read a copy of entertainment weekly from cover to cover just to keep my mind off the intolerable discomfort. I am beside myself with shame: I read multiple articles about Pearl Harbor and Rob Schneider's the animal. What can I say? I was desperate. Can you ever forgive me? Please know that I am punishing myself enough for all of us.

I still have no idea what I am going to do tomorrow.

I am kind of seeing tonight as the beginning of it all. A commencement. Tonight there is a party at Pine and its the first event in a whole series of activities, undertakings and exploits that will take me straight through the middle of August.

check this out:

Tonight, like I said, Pine. Tomorrow at 8 am, I leave for Vegas and Mir's wedding. Melissa and the two G's will be there- rock n roll. When I return next week Jessica will be home and living with us at Hazel for the summer. Shortly after that, Leah makes it back east. There will be much revelry. Next weekend begins the 10 days of my birthday. There will be celebration... for 10 days... straight. Then, god save me from dying of joy, marychen comes home to me. We will play and smile for a week. Mid June sees New York city and hopefully by dear Julian. All the while, mind you, there are events, parties and shows that I am already planning on. Things that can not be missed. And then, and THEN on the 25th of June I leave the country for 7 weeks with my brother. We remain abroad until the 10th of August when we return from... drum roll... you knew all along I'd go... Tunisia. AND have I mentioned that I have met the greatest boy? gracious.

My world is ALL fun.

"Lets drink some mash and talk some thrash till mornin"
    - andrew bird

I've been too preachy recently haven't I? I don't know what's gotten into me, well beside the compulsion to talk some shit about things I know next to nothing about. Its spring, its the season of shit talkin and sweet takin as it turns out.

I just took a break from work to sit with Tim and Mike in the park. You know, I was walkin out of my office building to meet them and they were standin out there on 17th street, all cool and casual and just looking so fine. I swear they are the two most handsome boys I know. God love 'em.

Tonight is five cent wings and half price margaritas with the coworkers. After that I am grabbing Devon and she and I are headed out for a night of debauched revelry and possibly - some more shit talking.

I did another terrible thing.

Our story begins this morning as I was waiting for the trolley. In a flash of glorious foresight, I remembered that this sunday is mother's day and I decided that this year I am gonna send mom a card. In years past I have always called her or gone home for a visit and I'll do those things this year, but also I thought I would go that extra mile and send that card! My mom eats up stuff like this! We are, after all, talking about the woman that sends her 4 adult children money stuffed hallmark gems (see 4/13/01) for every holiday except flag day. So, I feel confident when I say that when she receives this card its gonna put the biggest smile on her face. It will just make her day.

I start think about the time frame I am working with; If I want this card to get to her by saturday I should put it in the mail today. This means of course that I can't make her a card which is a preferred but unrealistic option. I want to make cards all the time and I never do it and thus I never send cards. Honestly, I don't actually know the last time I put a card in a mail box. Anyway, I know what I have to do. I buy that card the second I get off the trolley and I will have it in the mail today. No excuses. Though I am getting nervous cause I am already having visions of the frenzied crowds duking it out for the few remaining cards and then that torturous wait in line. Its gonna be ugly, I think, but all the same, I have to do it. I am just gonna walk in there grab the first card I see and get out. What do I care what it says? Its the thought that counts and my momma is gonna love me for this.

I make it down town and hit the CVS closest to my office. I approach the cards but am barricaded by about 5 women (oddly no men) positioned very closely to the shelf/rack They are all taking this very seriously. I can tell. They are going from one card to another, reading and placing it back on the shelf. Over and over. They ain't going nowhere. The aisle itself is suspiciously pink and in shambles. There are cards and envelopes on the floor. Some are placed back on the shelves either backwards on in the wrong slot all together. Its like the bizarre wreckage of some highly localized holiday tornado. ok, This is it. In and out. I reach between two ladies and grab a card. The one with the tulips on it, not the one with the badly done illustration of a little girl with a bouquet. I read. This was my fatal mistake. I should have just placed it under my arm and made my way to the register then, but nooooooo, I had to see what the damn thing said and let me tell you, it wasn't good. I place the card back on the shelf. I pick up the little girl with the bouquet card. shudder. Back on the shelf.

And it was that easy. Within seconds I am sucked in. I went through about 6 cards all the while reaching between and around the hapless ladies that had sunk into this infernal trap just moments before myself. Its just that they are all so incredibly... bad. I mean, ridiculous clichés, vapid humor. Just bad bad bad. Not a single card reflects a shared thought that my mother and I might have and each one seems like a sham. She knows my style and sense of decorum. I would never say anything like what is said in these cards. She will see right through this tawdry attempt to gain her affections! But that's not the point, I remind myself. And anyway, she is just gonna be so thrilled that I sent her a card that she is not gonna stop and think about whether I really believe that moms are "the lovely warmth and grace of spring". No wait. that's daughters. I am so confused.

I stop. I place the card I have in my hand back on the shelf. I have to focus. I begin to look around a bit more critically. I begin to pay more attention to the little markers above each little section of cards: "from son", "to step mom", "from both of us" "to mom - humor" "to mom - sentimental (simply stated)". No lie. about half of the markers have the words "simply stated" and for the life of me I can't begin to guess how somebody can discern between what is "simply stated" in these god forsaken cards and what is... what? complexly stated? Am I missing something? whatever. I reach for an other card. Its one of those ones that unfolds, each new panel revealing something greater and more inspiring about the love I have for my mom. Too drippy... too jejune. Back on the shelf it goes. Next card (under "humor (simply stared)"). ok. Its a bad joke. ok. My mom might not even really appreciate the gist, but it was the first one that didn't make me roll my eyes or stifle a gag reflex, so I go for it. I grab the lavender envelope and turn away leaving these other prisoners of greeting card malaise to wallow longer in there own indecision and frustration. I take a step away and a second accidental envelope falls from my hand and glides a few feet to my left and lands by the feet of one of the other browsing customers. I sigh, pick it up and stuff it into a random slot. I can't bear to deal with it any other way.

I feel lucky cause I have broken free. I have left that unholy nightmare of simple Shoebox greetings and moved on. I am even able to walk right up to a register and pay. No waiting in line! But ok and here is when it all really hits me- the rank, despicable reality of it all. My total comes to two dollars and thirteen cents. $2.13! I begin to think of all of the gazillions of people buying mother's days cards and all the fucking money that is going to Hallmark or whoever, and to no other end but to strengthen this monster company's strangle hold on the american people's sense of sentimentality and guilt AND so that the process can renew and repeat itself just in time for father's day. ugh.

The whole thing left me feeling kinda sad and used, but that's ok I guess because my mom is gonna be so happy.

This show is opening friday night and I am so terribly excited. (Becky and I went over to the ICA the other night to pick up Jim and from the street, through the windows, I could see him inside skate boarding across the main hall of this huge fancy gallery, cigarette in hand, to come let us in the locked side door. It made me laugh and smile. Only Jim.) I got to walk around and take a look at the show as it was going up and let me tell you, you are sorry that you are gonna miss it. Jim's stuff is better then ever. I mean different and better then I could have imagined. Its a bitch that I can't afford it any more. And that Margaret Kilgallen lady's work is larger then life. literally. floor to ceiling, text and colors and goodness. Also, she is the prettiest pregnant lady I have ever seen.

Right. If you are in Philly get your ass to the ICA.

Downloaded an mp3 off of juno's new album and I am having fucking heart palpitations. I can - not - wait for this cd to be released.

ps: laryngitis sucks

pps: crushes rule

I did something terrible.

I was out getting my lunch at one of those chinese deli type buffet places and I was standing in front of the beverage case attempting to decide between fruit juice with extra sugar or some brown syrupy soft drink when I was struck with the refreshing novelty of Canada Dry ginger ale. "Its been a long time", I thought to myself as I slid the door back and grabbed the 20 oz bottle.

Back at my office, I am enjoying my lunch and I remember that I have this soda to drink. yum. I twist it open and take a long chug and by the time I've placed that bottle back on the table I have realized, in horror, what I have done. I had purchased a DIET SODA. Now, not only am I stuck with a revolting taste in my mouth, let me tell you about the one left in my soul.

Diet soda is the ultimate betrayal, an offense to humanity, a blight if you will, a fucking tragedy of modern culture. Allow me to explain:

Diet sodas tell us that we are flawed and that we can be redeemed if only we tried hard enough. Do we do it "just for the taste of it"? I don't think so. We do it to feel better about ourselves. So we can tell ourselves we have tried. Diet sodas are the perfect ohso subtle reminder that we are in fact imperfect. And by who's standards? not by our doctor's or a god damn nutritionist's, not even by our loved one's or by our own! but by the standards of multi-million dollar corporations and the media. Coke thinks we are too fat and their commercials tell us so.

And you know what? We are. But honestly, if you are drinking so much soda that you are concerned about putting on the pounds, then maybe you should not drink that much soda and maybe you should take a closer look at all the other food that you are putting in your mouth...

oh god, and artificial sweeteners! Don't even get me started.

I am gonna stop before somebody punches me.