Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy...

... sunburn on my chest does NOT.

I spent my weekend in New York - on Fire Island, to be specific. My roommate from college (the one who got married in November) turned 30 this year, so she had a big party to celebrate. Her family has a summer house on FI, and I usually go out every summer to visit. When I got out there Friday night (after a 4 hour drive and a 45 minute ferry ride), it was raining. But Saturday... a totally different story. The weather was PERFECT. If you looked up "perfect beach day" in the dictionary, you'd see a picture of Saturday. Despite the gorgeous weather, I got major sunburn. I'm bright red in certain spots, nicely tanned in others. Even after the burn fades, I'm gonna have some wicked tan lines. Damnit. And of course, I'd packed a tank top for the party that night. I was a lobster in a tank top. Uber attractive. But it's okay. I got drunk enough to forget about it. Several vodka tonics and half a dozen kamikaze shots took care of that. And the beauty of the island - no hangover! I don't know if it's something in the air, or what... but it's fabulous.

In other news... SUMMER CAMP IS OVER! Woo-hoo!!! I still have class (2 mornings and 2 nights a week), but I have a lot more free time now. I can do laundry, wash my car, read, go in the pool, go shopping... it's glorious. Oh... and of course my party is coming soon! If you know me, you know how much I adore party planning. There's no theme this year (damn you, Doug!), so I can't go shopping for decorations or look up fun thematic recipes online. But I'll figure something out.

Soon I'll be back in my classroom setting up for the new school year, so I gotta cram as much fun into the next few weeks as I can. Anyone interested in contributing some fun?

the weekend update

Crazy weekend. I'm kinda glad it's over, cuz now I can get a good night's sleep. I was up past 4 AM two nights this weekend.

Anyway, Sam's birthday party was Saturday night. Before the party, I told Erin I wasn't going to get drunk. I threw that plan out the window shortly after arriving at Great American. Started with two beers there, continued with many more cans of Miller Lite at Sam's house (at one point, I even started double fisting cans... yikes!). And, if I remember correctly, several shots of vodka. But it was a damn good time. From what I can recall.

Seriously, I do remember pretty much all of the party. I handle my liquor well. Some drunk people get obnoxious, some puke, some fight, some pass out... not me. I get loud(er), sing more, talk more, flirt a LOT more (ahem), and apparently, I call everyone bitch. I didn't notice that until Karen pointed it out. Bitch.

The weather was kinda shitty for awhile, but then it cleared up enough for us to swim. Yay! Much fun was had in the pool and I do believe some beer was spilled there as well. Sam's pool floats are gonna get tipsy... lol...

My camera proved to be a great source of fun for all. I took a few harmless pics to start with. And then we got ideas for a few posed pics. And then it got ugly. When I looked at my pics last night, there were about 20 that I didn't take. They're quite interesting and they're all up on Snapfish. (If you wanna see them, email me for the link.)

The night was not without it's casualties, though. As Erin was handing out cake (mmmm... yummy cake with chocolate icing...), a beer bottle fell off the table and shattered. Soon after, I stepped on a piece of glass and cut my foot. Sam and her first aid kit came to the rescue, and I was back in the pool in no time. Later, when I was changing out of my bathing suit in Sam's teeny, tiny bathroom, I dropped my shirt. I bent to pick it up, and smacked my head on the doorknob on my way back up. Hurt like a bitch... and yesterday morning, I couldn't figure out why my head was so sore. Oh... and this one's embarrassing... I scraped my finger trying to open a bottle of Yuengling. I have no skillz.

I didn't get home until around 4 AM (thanks again for the ride, Panama Joe!), after an eventful drive through a maze-like development in Bensalem. Fell asleep as soon as I hit the pillow and woke up with a hangover, of course. Good times, indeed.

And now I can't WAIT until my party in August!!!

If...

If I had the time, I'd blog. I'd talk about camp... swimming with the kids, making papier mache crafts, reading endless stories, sweating through the day in a building with a crappy air conditioning unit. I'd talk about my classes... my projects and papers, the 16 year-old Chinese girl that I'm tutoring, sitting through 2 hour lectures that have produced more daydreams and doodles than I can count, flirting with the cutie who sits next to me in my Tuesday/Thursday class. I'd talk about my summer... or lack, thereof. I've only been in my pool twice. I have no tan. I haven't gone to the flea market or the beach or any sort of vacation. I'd talk about the party... the evite went out today (if you didn't get yours, email me, bitch!).

If only I had time...

Tag, no tagbacks!

Tag!!!!

The rules of the game, once you've been tagged, write a blog with 6 weird things or habits about yourself. In the end you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says, "You've been tagged" in the comments and tell them to look at your latest blog.

Here goes it,

1. I love to sing, but sometimes I'm weird about doing it in public. Also, I feel like I sing better after I've had a few drinks.

2. I'm addicted to chapstick.

3. I collect children's literature. I'll need a storage unit for all my books someday.

4. I get insomnia when I'm not on a "regular" school/work schedule. I often get panic attacks with the insomnia.

5. When I buy a new box of crayons, I have to dump them out and put them back in color order.

6. I've never been stung by a bee.

just some stuff

I've been going to teacher seminars in Chestnut Hill all week. I've had a less than stellar commute pretty much every day. Monday it rained and the normally 40 minute ride took me an hour and a half. Tuesday I left early, didn't hit any traffic, and got there early. Wednesday... grrr... every road known to man was closed or flooded. It took me 2 hours to get to the college, where I found out the seminar was cancelled. Then it took me 2 hours to get home. I spent 4 hours in the car and didn't go anywhere. Today traffic was good... but I had a coffee mishap. I went to Dunkin Donuts, ordered my coffee black w/cream & sugar on the side. I got to the turnpike and realized that he didn't give me a stirrer for my coffee. DAMNIT. So I MacGyvered that shit. I found an old pen, took out the ink tube, reassembled it, and used it to stir my coffee. Mmmm.... caffeine...

Anyway, the seminars are boring as hell. I could teach these things. I actually should teach them. It probably pays damn well. And it'd be better than sitting there, listening to someone talk about stuff I already do in my classroom.

So Erin and Mike are now in Vegas... tomorrow they will be married! The bride-to-be has been sending me the funniest text messages since she landed in Vegas. Right now, she is drunk. Lucky bitch. Drunk in Vegas, and getting married to boot. I should un-friend her for awhile. Find some pathetic single friends, so I don't feel so bad about myself. Kidding, of course.

Tonight was my last night of class for Summer I semester. Summer II starts Monday, which sucks. Anyway, a bunch of us from class went to dinner at Chickie's and Pete's. Had a few beers, some chicken fingers, and crab fries. Mmmm... crab fries... (I'm starting to sound like Homer Simpson.)

I guess I should go to sleep. I don't feel like sleeping yet, but I need to be up early tomorrow.

Thank you for joining me in my randomness.

tiaras, spelunking , and the world's best pizza

Don't let the title confuse you. All will be revealed in this quite comprehensive post about Erin's Bachelorette Extravaganza.

The day began around 3-ish, when I collected Erin and her belongings. We made a brief pit-stop at Dunkin Donuts, to get an energy boost in the form of smoothie (for me) and black iced coffee (for Erin). We picked up Gina and then began our journey downtown, enjoying loud party tunes all the way.

We found a not-too-seedy parking lot, where we were informed that we needed to be back "before," or else we might have to pay extra. I tried to pin the man down on a specific time, but he was evasive. "Just be back here before," he said. "Man... You are three good looking ladies. Don't get to see ladies like you every day. They usually stick me in the ghetto." Um... okay, buddy... just give me my ticket and we'll be on our way. "You ladies going to party?" We nod. "I get off work at 6:30!" He laughs. "Okay, remember, just be back before."

And off we go to find our hotel. Upon our arrival, we see a sign saying we need to register in the bar. Okie dokie. So we go in and talk to the (very hot) Irish bartender , who showed us to our room, called The Betsy Ross Room. It was an experience. We opened the door and saw a table and two chairs. And another door. We opened that door and saw a tiny bathroom. And another door. We opened that door and saw a very small bedroom, with ONE bed and a small dresser. And another door. We opened that door and saw the hallway. Interesting.

We assessed the situation. Clearly, there was only one thing to do: drink. We went to the hotel bar and ordered some drinks. Erin informed us that the hotel advertised fresh flowers in every room, internet access and a piano in the hotel bar. We had a few good laughs about the quality of our accommodations. We agreed that Betsy Ross most likely drank herself to death in our room (thus accounting for the smell), and that her ghost haunts the hotel. Furthermore, in the evenings, Francis Scott Key descends into the bar from on high, playing a piano, to perform a stunning duet with Miss Betsy.

The rest of our party (Sam, MK and Tina) eventually met us at the hotel and after a wardrobe change (and a discussion about cleavage), we headed out to dinner at Rotten Ralph's (good food, bad name). From there, we went to the infamous Cave, where we met Karen and Heather. Let me say that I went into the Cave with the preconceived notion that strip clubs are skanky, nasty places with skanky nasty people (basing this opinion on the female strip club I've been to). I was SO wrong. The Cave was AWESOME. Okay, getting ahead of myself. When we got settled, Sam distributed the goody bags that we had assembled earlier in the week. We each got a cute little bag shaped like a lace trimmed teddy filled with condoms, lube, glow-in-the-dark bracelets, a candy necklace, an x-rated fortune cookie, a penis straw and a tiara! Erin got a special floofy, feathery crown and the rest of us got Disney princess tiaras. Woo-hoo!

And then the party began. This place is filled with HOT guys (most are probably gay, but whatever) whose job is to look good and flirt with the ladies. (I want to hire them to walk around my house and do that...) And flirt they did. Within five minutes of being there, one guy came over to me, put one arm around me, put a hand on my thigh and started talking in my ear. So... yeah ... um... I didnt really hear anything he said for the first minute or two. Ahem. But then I focused and realized that he wanted to steal Erin to demonstrate a body shot onstage. Tee hee. After that, it was all a blur of dancing and drinking champagne and watching the hot dancing guys (with damn impressive upside down moves ) and doing shots and eating penis cakes and watching Erin get a lap dance and the grabbing of various body parts. Much fun was had by all.

When the show was over, we went to the attached dance club, which sucked. It wasnt very crowded, there weren't many guys (of course, since it was a male strip club), and they had a very strict liquor policy. Heather and I had to stay behind a gate around the bar with our drinks. We werent allowed on or near the dance floor. Stupid. So I didn't get to dance at all, which pissed me off. Then we lost Gina briefly, and when we found her, everyone was ready to leave. We headed back to the hotel, making a pit stop at Soho's, which Tina claimed had the world's best pizza. And she was right. It was incredibly tasty. I highly recommend it... but not after several glasses of champagne and many fruity shots.

Then back to the hotel where 5 of us planned to sleep. Considering how drunk we were, the assignment of sleeping arrangements went smoothly. We stripped the comforter and fuzzy blanket off the bed and found an extra pillow in the closet. Gina and Karen slept on the floor in the sitting room, Heather took the floor in the bedroom, and Erin and I shared the bed (but she stole the sheet and most of the pillow). It was, as Heather put it, "hot as balls" in the room, seeing as how there was no a/c, no fan, and a sign on the window that said "Do not open."

But somehow we managed to sleep. Woke up around 8, left at around 10. And the rest of my day was spent nursing a hangover on the couch.

So there you have it. A very detailed look inside Erin's last night of freedom. Okay... who's getting married next? We need another trip to the Cave!!!

so tired. my weekend - the random post.

Last night we went to the Cave. Much alcohol was consumed. Little sleep was had. I'll post more about all that later. I just wanted to get it out there now, so you know what you're dealing with.

I'm tired 'cause we were out 'n' about 'til the wee hours o' the mornin'. I tried to put as many apostrophes in that sentence as was humanly possible. I like the way it looks. I think I'd like the way it sounds, too, if I was crazy enough to read it out loud.
Really we were only out until around midnight. We're old, apparently, and that's when the fun train stops running for geezers like us. Especially when the alcohol started flowing before dinner. We were in bed (or on floor) by 1:30. I couldn't sleep. Everytime I looked at the clock, it was a half an hour later than the last time I looked.
I must've eventually dozed off, because I dreamed about text messages. Indeed. I received a text message from a guy named Josh. I don't know anyone named Josh. But I did in the dream, I think. I didn't know who he was when I got the message, but then he was standing next to me reading the texts over my shoulder. Yeah, it doesn't make sense to me, either. I guess that's what champagne and pizza does to your brain.

I'm camped out on the couch now... wrapped in a blanket, watching bad TV. There's a "Three's Company" marathon on TV Land. It's bad. It's so bad, it's almost good. But not quite.

I think it's naptime again.