Out of hibernation.

For me, inspiration to write often comes from Sex & the City. Today it came from the movie, airing on the USA network on this lazy December day during holiday 'cation. Last night, Kitty Cat, Rory Rose and I toasted to the year 2011 as we creep up on 2012. Tonight KC and I will host the 4th annual Holiday Girls Night, an intimate gathering of sorts, involving friends, wine, food and board games. I imagine we will do some reflecting on the events of the past year and any exciting ventures to come. I must say, I am a bit disappointed in my complete blogging disregard over the past 6 months or so. In my defense, I have been very busy. There is no way to document all that has transpired, but a brief synopsis of the big picture may wet the palette of the few readers that remain faithful :)

I finally (almost) feel like a grown-up. In February, I started dating a wonderful man. This man will be known as Golden Retriever, because like this breed, he is friendly with everyone, eager to please, cheerful and trustworthy. Hard to believe with my track record as resident commitment-phobe, but Golden and I are still in a happy, loving relationship. We have had so much fun together over the past 10 months, and the best part is that everyone loves him. I mean everyone I introduce him to. It is pretty amazing. He's even attempted to share his interests with me- gambling, sports, sports gambling- and I failed to succumb to his attempts. Poor Golden continues to be subjected to my girly vices (he actually just left my apartment. Apparently 20 minutes of SATC was enough for him). Kitty Cat has already put him in charge of creating the Ultimate Sex & the City Trivia Game. Did I mention that Golden is Ivy League educated and quite brilliant? I know... it's annoying.

On top of my great man, I also managed to score a Master's degree and new J-O-B at a stellar local high school. The job is exhausting and emotionally draining, but definitely rewarding.

More big girl highlights:

Attending seven (yes, seven) weddings from April to December. One for my sorority sister, one grade school pal, and two for close friends. I am officially getting old and people are settling down. It is scary, but I have to say, I thoroughly enjoyed all seven weddings. I am a sucker for a good love story these days. Speaking of which, I have been playing matchmaker again. The Kitty Cat Chronicles are continuing with a handsome man not of this island. It's a Christmas miracle!

Cheers 2011... you've been good to me. Elated about what 2012 may bring.

This broad stole my book idea.

The child-man…is the lost son of a host of economic and cultural changes: the demographic shift I call preadulthood, the Playboy philosophy, feminism, the wild west of our new media and a shrugging iffiness on the subject of husbands and fathers. He has no life script, no speak reason to grow up.

Kay S. Hymowitz must be a fan of Sometimes I spew word vomit. Her new book, Manning Up, is essentially an elaborate, thoroughly researched spin-off of "The Man-Boy Mantra" post I wrote in October. After reading a review in Glamour last month, I knew I had to scoop this one up. Barnes and Noble called me yesterday (yes, I'm a dork) to let me know my order was in, and I delightfully picked it up after dinner with my favorite man-boy. I am extremely intrigued by this topic, and look forward to learning more about how these man-children have evolved.

One of Hymowitz's readers commented that in modern culture, "Men are disposable." Homegirl stole that line from Sex & the City. While I can't argue with that sentiment, I will say they are still fun to be around, and if you're really lucky, you might find one worth recycling and become his reason to grow up.

A Novel Idea.

Short term goals: Successfully complete high school special ed student teaching, graduate magna cum laude, obtain masters degree, acquire teaching position of choice.

Long term goal: Write a book and get it published.

Problem: Where do I begin?

Here's the skinny... as often as DWD refers to me as Bradshaw and as much as I love love love the compliment, I am hyper aware of the fact that I am not a literary genius. I am just another girl with a blog, forcing her narcissistic agenda on her readers. (That being said, I am grateful for all you readers).

Lately, my long term goal is superseding my short terms. I blame this on my yet to be diagnosed attention deficit disorder and constant need for intellectual stimulation and excitement. The more and more memoirs I read, the more fascinated I become with the authors, the more I want to meet them and discuss their journey from living their life to putting it in print. Here is where I struggle... I am not sure I have enough material to write a memoir that incorporates enough detail, drama and self-deprecation to fill 150+ pages. Who can honestly recall and vividly describe experiences that occurred over 15 years ago? I have been browned out every weekend for the majority of the past decade. Am I proud of this? No. Did I enjoy myself? Yes. Stay focused, girl. Long term goal. If I can't write a memoir, do I go for a novel? And how do I get someone to believe in my work, get a publisher and important people to quote on the back cover? One of my favorite back cover quotes has to be from Chelsea Handler's My Horizontal Life, "Chelsea Handler writes like Judy Blume... if Judy Blume were into vodka, Ecstasy, and sleeping with midgets and nineteen year olds." This spot-on synopsis sparked inspiration for Handler's second book, Are You There Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea. Anyone that knows me, knows I would die for a chance to meet Chelsea. I am also delusional and convinced that upon meeting me she would fall in love with me and make me one of her minions. Until I attain moderate celebrity status, I am fearful that my memoir will not get past the half off bin at Christmas Tree Shop.

Solution: Write a novel or collection of stories that are loosely based on the truth and appeal to the masses. I have a few novel ideas in mind. One would serve as a guide for the many lost souls swimming in this fish bowl with no redeeming social skills. I seem to encounter a plethora of socially awkward citizens and am perpetually perplexed by their existence in this game of life. How do they continue to evolve and survive when they constantly make themselves and others uncomfortable? I want to produce a book to help them. I am such a giver... ridding the world of social awkwardness, one reader at a time. Novel idea #2 is top secret because it involves a very bossy business partner, but I will say it has the potential to be a work of solid gold trashy lit. Let's just hope I have the drive to take one of these ideas, hit the ground running, and convince someone in a position of power to put my work into many a leather bound book.

Mold your own man.

Holy moly me oh my. It's been a month since I last blogged and a great deal has occurred. It's a new year and I have been a pretty positive puppy thus far in 2011. What I would like to do is begin a detailed account of my fabulous holiday break that involved lots of family, friends, food and fun. Instead, I will spare my readers and focus this post on my silly snow day musing last Wednesday.

The life of a single girl is interesting. Especially a single girl like myself who is indecisive, ADD and uber social. Over break, I let Bear Paws take me to Crazy Burger, my favorite dining establishment in South County. BP and I have a history and recently he has been very persistent and pursuant in rekindling the flame. Because I am a conflicted little kat, I go back and forth between my beliefs about boys. Part of me is a firm believer in the notion that relationships come to an end for a reason and you should never look back. Another part believes in that cheesy cliche, "If you want something bad enough, set it free. If it comes back, it was meant to be. If it doesn't, it was never really yours to begin with." I blame this on my zodiac sign, which I am happy to report is still and always will be a gemini. Good to know I remain charming and crazy. Anywho, Bear Paws and I had a great time together but I did not leave with that zsa zsa zsu feeling that Carrie had with Berger (no, I will not stop relating my life to Sex & the City. I don't care that it's been almost six years since the series came to a close).

Fast forward a couple weeks and I am introduced to Burly Liberal and Caramel YB in the same weekend. Their approach to the dating game is astronomically different. The decade that separates their birth years may have something to do with this. BL and I met Sunday and had dinner together two nights later. CYB and I met Saturday, texted a bit throughout the week, saw each other at a bar the following Friday for ten minutes, and he asked to "chill" immediately following closing time. While this line may have worked in my college days, I think I am past "chillin" at 1 am with a guy I have just met.

This brings me to Wednesday, the day after my dinner date with BL. I had just finished watching "Easy A" and killing a bottle of vino with Reef Rider and my sister. Sidenote: Emma Stone is an unbelievable broad. I want to be friends with her. Stay tuned for a current girl crushes post. After Reef Rider left me, I got to thinking about men and weird science. I have met a lot of good guys in the past year, but not one has knocked me off feet and left me with the zsa zsa zsu feeling. As Carrie said, how can you sustain a relationship without the zsa zsa zsu? I asked Novel Girl if she could figure out what was wrong with me- if she knew the type of guy I needed and why I am never satisfied. Her retort (not verbatim because we bbm too much and the conversation is lost): You need a guy who is intelligent and funny, tall and good-looking, big but not fat big, and who absolutely adores you. Welp, I have not seemed to find all of that wrapped into one big pretty man package. So I thought it would be fun to ponder the idea of molding my own man. My formula went as follows: Bear Paw's flattery and loyalty + Teddy Jams' passion and thoughtfulness + Burly Liberal's brains and life experiences + Enrique Burnham's humor and witty banter + Caramel YB's height and young boy swagger + Beehive Boy's looks and outdoorsy vibe + Rock Lock's wild energy + sexual free spirit = My molded man.

Gentlemen, if you are mentioned in this post, you should be flattered and not offended. You have impressed and intrigued me with some aspect of your personality. I am learning that no man will ever encompass all I want/need in a partner and I have to come to accept individual quirks and flaws. After all, I am incredibly flawed and quirky myself. According to JD, one of my very best male friends, few people "get" me and I still do things that surprise him after five years of friendship. Since I can't seem to find a member of the geek squad to mold my own man, I will stick to the dating game... or just marry one of my guy friends and sign a monogamy-free contract. While my mom may be worried about my relationship future, I am not and neither is Rock Lock: "I'm worried for some... not you. If you moved to NY you'd be locked up faster than NYC Chinese delivery."

Footnote: If you don't recognize the name Beehive Boy, it is because he is a new character whom I have a cafe crush on. I see him once or twice a week at a coffee shop before school and we exchange small talk together with the barista. All I know is that he thinks I'm "cute," with emphasis on the word cute. So far no move has been made to hang out with me beyond the confines of the cafe. While I am fairly certain he's just not that into me, I am not ruling him out of the game just yet.

Love, Love, Love. All you need is love.

As I have mentioned here and in many a facebook post and tweet, love. actually. is. all. around. I may be a wee (that one's for you Enrique Burnham) bit cynical sometimes, but I am still a lover of love and fan of the rom-com. Let me rephrase. I am a fan of the rom-com that strays from the ubiquitous story line. Recently, Love and Other Drugs successfully strayed. I was completely enamored by Jake Gyllenhall and Anne Hathaway in this film. They nailed their roles as Maggie and Jamie with captivating performances that made the characters believable, their feelings raw, their tribulations real. I left the theater wanting to be as alluring and free-spirited as Maggie and possess the can'tlivewithoutyou kind of love and sexual chemistry she had with Jamie. The script, performances and golden globe noms aside, the eye candy alone was enough for me. Jake Gyllenhall is a smokeshow. I've always enjoyed the following quote from Sex & the City, "I just want to feel the weight of a man on top of me!" Well, Carrie, I just want to feel the weight of Jake Gyllenhall on top of me. Tay Swift is just too sweet and innocent for that sexy, sexy man. Here I go... veering off topic.

My all time favorite holiday movie is Love Actually. That will come as no surprise to those who know me. That being said, you can understand my frustration and disappointment when I went to grab it from the shelf this week only to find it was absent from my collection. I watch this movie AT LEAST once a year. Pretty sure I saw it twice in the theater. It is one of those fabulous feel good flicks that never gets old. When it came out on DVD, Burdy and I would snuggle in her big cozy bed at DZ and soak in the holiday love in between blasting Mariah's "All I want for Christmas is you." Speaking of which, if that song lights your fire, you have to check out the last scene of Love Actually.

Today I got to thinking about these two favorite movies of mine and began to ponder other goodies with the word "love" in the title. I surveyed my fb friends and questioned a few followers on twit. With their help and my ultimate evaluation, I have compiled a list of my top five "Love" movies.

1. Love actually

2. Love and other drugs

3. P.S. I love you

Tear jerker from start to finish. Saw it in the theater with Kitty Cat and Art Smart. We did not stop sniffling, yet there was something different and amazingly romantic about this sad love story. Gerard Butler and Denny Duquette (I don't know his real name) helped. Definitely one I can watch again and again.

4. Love and basketball

This one was popular with Shell Belle and I the year we lived together. Pretty sure she owned it on VHS. That scene when he sneaks into her bedroom is unforgettable. Ahh young love with the boy next door. Omar Epps, that chocolate lover, is also easy on the eyes.

5. Shakespeare in Love

Classic love story set in the time of the man who wrote classic love stories. Gwyneth killed it and took home an Oscar as William's love interest.

I'm sure there are more movies to be mentioned, but I must cut this short to watch Love Actually with my sister, who so graciously purchased it for us to watch tonight. I shall leave you with the opening quote...

“Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaky feeling you'll find that love actually is all around.”

We are lucky. Aren't we lucky?

I don't know if it's the holiday season, the slight decrease in my stress level, or just me, but lately I have been feeling uber blessed. Blessed to be a girl who can count on many people in her life to be there- to share a glass of wine, a laugh, a few tears, et cetera. Not everyone can be so lucky. Nostalgia has been the theme of the week. It started on Friday night while spending time with a certain family that have welcomed me in over the years. As I sat on the couch with the woman who does and has it all, I marveled at the many small special moments she shares with her husband and three beautiful, brilliant little girls that I have come to love so dearly. They have such an undeniable hunger for life and contagious holiday spirit. The eldest girl and I recently practiced reciting an old favorite poem of mine from Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends. I am a sucker for sappy children's books and poetry.

I continued my Friday evening by meeting DJ Slumpbuster and DWD at the Brick to celebrate 30 years of business. They thanked their loyal customers with 1980's nachos prices. DWD was in his glory. These boys (and all my boys) make me feel lucky too. Genuine friendships with members of the opposite sex are hard to come by and should to be treasured. I'm going on four or five years with the dumps in my life but it feels like eternity. I don't know what I would do without them.

Speaking of nostalgia and male friends, I am currently teaching in the elementary school that I attended as a fifth grader. It is pretty wild, especially given the fact that my fifth grade teacher is still working there. For whatever reason, today she and I happened to be the only two in the teacher's room at lunch and we took a walk down memory lane. She raved about what a wonderful student I was and what a great bunch of kids I had in my class. She even went on to mention that back in 95 she was convinced I would grow up to be a writer (crossing my fingers that this might still happen). We then got to chatting about the brainy AA, also a student in that fabulous fifth grade class. How lucky am I to share a special bond with a guy I have known since the pre-pubescent days of my youth? I feel closer to him now that ever. His sincere, frequent compliments never cease to make me smile. I am eager to spend time with him on Christmas Eve at Tray Day's, quite possibly one of my favorite nights of the year.

Now on to my women. The fantastically flawed, strong, independent, inspirational women that I am lucky to know and love, near and far. While I would love to write a personal blurb about them, I just haven't the time or space here to do the whole lot justice. You know who you are, and I thank you for being in my life.

Perhaps the most blogspiration for this post came to me Saturday night while celebrating Shell Belle's 26th year of living on this Earth. It also marked the seventh time we have celebrated her birthday... the first time occurred in the room we shared together in our sorority house, complete with boys, bitches and plenty of underage boozing. Novel Girl, Tuna and Starry Eyes all came to the ocean state to make this spectacular reunion a success. What amazes me is that no matter how much time goes by without speaking, we all seem to get right back into the groove when we we're together, as if no time has passed since the days of all living under one roof. The night consisted of plenty of alcohol, inappropriate table talk, reminiscing, dougieing and self-reflection. The next morning consisted of plenty of laughs, raspy voices, homefries and goodbyes. But it is only goodbye for now, because as we have grown older, our friendships have grown stronger and we have made a more conscious effort to stay in touch and get together more frequently. I have to say... I don't hate it.

Tis the season.

Novel Girl knows me well. She knows what knocks me out, what entertains me, what makes me smile. That being said, she graciously posted this video on my wall this morning. It incorporates a few things that I love: music, the holiday spirit, and a certain male appendage... I will let you you watch and listen yourselves.

I love the holidays. They are filled with family, friends, special traditions, food and booze in excess. The annual holiday party at DWD's on Friday night kicked off the season with a wild bang... looking forward to decorating the tree and the annual viewing of Love Actually very soon... it always gets me in the spirit. "To me, you are perfect." Tis the season kids, enjoy this most wonderful time of the year!!

For my favorite Jews, I don't want to exclude you. Happy last night of Hanukkah...hope you all rocked your eight crazy nights!

Oh Glee, how I love thee.

This generation I am proud (?) to be a part of is full of pop culture consumers. Celebrity gossip, new music and hit TV shows are more apt to be topics of conversation than global concerns. Wait. Let me rewind. There are plenty of intelligent, well-read twenty-somethings that are highly interested in current events, change and making a difference. However, a great deal of GenY kids are immersed in the social media game. I am guilty of indulging in daily helpings of pop culture. Sue me. One of my fairly recent indulgences is GLEE. Yes, I am a gleek. I will sing it loud and proud (if only I was blessed with Rachel's vocal chords). What IS it about this show? Many boys have asked me this... some even admitted to not watching because they were afraid they would get hooked. First and foremost, the music. The New Directions continue to impress me weekly with their spot on covers of pop songs. Tonight's "Dog Days are Over" absolutely knocked me out. Florence is mah gurrrlll. If you are too embarrassed to become a gleek but appreciate pop music, do yourself a favor and download some of the songs on Itunes. You will not be disappointed. Second, the creator- Ryan Murphy- and his brilliant writing. He had me hooked on his guilty pleasure nip/tuck during senior year of college. The days of McNamara & Troy after Rock & Roll & Rebels film class with Novel Girl and Tuna. Third, that cast. Jane Lynch is perfection as Sue Sylvester, "People who dress like librarians? All sex addicts." Every single member of that Glee club is oozing with raw talent. Where were these "kids" two years ago? Tonight my fb status paid homage to the gorgeous guys of glee. Puck needs to be my FWB (friend with benefits). Homeboy pulls off sexy-badass-with-a-soft-side like it's nobody's business. Finn. Oh Finn. The boy next door... the star quarterback dreamboat that every girl wants to take home to Mom and never let go. Shame on Rachel for screwing that one up. Although, I can't blame her. Not only is PuckERMAN a sexy badass, he's a sexy badass Jew. Then there is Kurt... sassy, chic, fabulous Kurt. He would be the ultimate gay best friend. Finally, Sam... this season's newcomer with platinum locks and a perfect pout. Rory Rose has called dibs on this young stud. While I am well aware that my "Dear Santa" status will not come true, my sister did inform me that she recently read that Cory Monteith (Finn) is going to find a job in construction when all of this is said and done. There is plenty of that kind of work here in the city by the sea. Hey, a girl can dream! Matt Rutler is proof that us small town normal folk have a shot at scoring with major A-listers. For those of you who are unaware, Rutler is a member of the Nate Mott Band and graduate of Roger Williams University, located in my little hometown of Bristol, RI. I used to watch him rock out at a small Irish pub. Matt left the East coast for LA LA land a few years ago and came back this weekend to introduce his new lady to the rents. This new lady happens to be the one and only (wait for it) Christina Aguilera! Apparently he figured out how to rub her the right way. How's that for some pop culture consumption, kids?

The ultimate college experiment.

Thanks to technology, specifically social media and networking, we live in a world where information is abundant and insanely accessible. While this fact is detrimental to my level of daily productivity, I am grateful for the endless entertainment. This week Chi Girl passed on a gem that I could not resist blogging about. In the spirit of research and perverse curiosity, Karen Owen, a 2010 Duke graduate, created an "Official Fuck List," in which she ranked 13 subjects based on a raw score. The raw score was calculated using a range of criteria created by Owen, including physical attractiveness, size, talent, creativity, aggressiveness, athletic ability, and entertainment. The results of her research were compiled into an in-depth, creative, witty, incredibly descriptive Power Point that she sent to a few of her friends. She never intended for the document to go viral, but recently one friend forwarded it to another and it spread like wildfire. I admire this girl for having the gall to do something that frat boys do so frequently. Jezebel said it well, "Here's another reminder that women can be as flip, aggressive and acquisitive about sex as men. And there's nothing wrong with that, as long as all parties are consenting." I think Karen and I would get along famously. You go, girl. To read the complete Power Point and Jezebel article, click here.

Penelope Trunk's article (what a name), "Does the Duke 'Sex Thesis' Empower Women?" mentions a recent sex study conducted at Indiana University that indicates that Americans have quite the sexual repotoire. Turns out having an FWB (friend with benefits) is popular not just among 20 somethings. 13 percent of men and 11 percent of women between the ages of 19-59 said their last sexual encounter was with a friend. Another interesting finding: 18% of women admitted to trying anal sex before their 18th birthday. I guess the "exit only " mantra that my friends and I follow isn't trendy with the youngins.

I'd like to take this opportunity to make a text-to-self connection, as any good educator would. Last night I had dinner with my grad school cohort to celebrate the conclusion of our classes. One of the moms in the program has been known to engage in some dirty sexting with her husband. She was kind enough to share their mobile correspondence from Thursday night: "Am I going to get celebratory sex tonight?" Her hubby: "Hell yeah. I'm going to cum laude, cum laude all over your face!"

So here's to women having a healthy sexual appetite and the openness to share the dirty details.

Tell her why she rocks.

Facebook is a funny place. Not funny haha... funny in a spooky, creepy, I-didn't-mean-to-stalk-you-but-I-did kind of way. After seeing The Social Network, I became even more fascinated with this virtual party we have all been attending for the past 6 years. Fun facebook story of the week: A few friends were "liking" the mural shown below. I proceeded to follow suite because I, too, like it. A lot.

Just now I clicked on the event page connected to this mural and noticed it was a contest submission for the new rag & bone location on Elizabeth and Houston. "Vote for Joshua Schwartz's rag & bone Mural" was the title. My silly brain association led me to Josh Schwartz, Providence native and creator of three of my favorite series, Gossip Girl, The O.C. and Chuck (marry me Zachary Levi?).

My next thought was "why is Josh Schwartz entering a mural contest for a fashion line?" After bbm questioning Novel Girl, I discovered that JoshUA Schwartz is NOT the TV producer, but the artist boyfriend of her dear friend Sabotage. Go here to find out how to vote for his beautifully simplistic mural.

Once I recovered from my own stupidity, I posted the mural pic to Teddy Jams' wall... not because I was fishing for compliments, but because it reminded me of him. He tells me why I rock often. All girls should be so lucky. Over an after dinner beer on date four, he opened up and told me what he likes so much about me, "You see the world in brighter colors." I can't think of anything sweeter than that. Free advice for my male readers: Tell. her. why. she. rocks. Most likely, she already knows she does, but don't be afraid to tell her why you think so.

Let's talk about sex, baby. With a side of romance, of course.

I should have written or at least began writing this post a few weeks ago after late night fb chatting with Das, the self-proclaimed monk. Recently I read a fun zodiac fact about geminis. For those of you who are unaware, I could be the poster child for the twins. This particular fact read that a gemini's favorite hobby is talking about sex- and their second favorite is having it. FACT. Das gave me a good laugh when he clued me in on his sexual behavior: he will do anything and everything in his power to get laid when he is into a girl. Having said that, he will also do anything and everything in his power to go to sleep immediately following the act. Our conversation continued for some time, and while I can't remember the details, I remember they were juicy. The next day I decided to question some of my tweeps regarding their favorite time of day to fornicate, whether or not the boys went right to sleep afterwards, and whether or not this bothered the girls. Undoubtedly, I received a variety of responses. Overall, people like sex (woo!)... morning, noon and night... but PM sex prevailed! Some gals like to snuggle or go for round two so the passing out is a problem for them. Others like to pass out in "blissful exhaustion" with their man after late night nookie. Somehow this sex talk spawned a crude topic that I was curious and clueless about prior to engaging in some conversations that led to graphic vivid imagery. I will not disclose the topic, but many of you know what I am talking about it, and I am both repulsed and intrigued. I must acknowledge Tucker Max for his impeccable descriptions. He definitely wins the most informative prize. Soldier also deserves to be mentioned here... carpooling with him has added an interesting element to our scholastic friendship. That boy had some wild sextales to share. I feel as though I cannot speak of adult extracurriculars without a Reef Rider story... she and the MAN that has held her attention for months now recently had sex in his car- while he was driving. That's what I call multitasking. She is fascinated with this man's monster mitts and has even sent me a picture of them. Kitty Cat has been having the best sex of her life lately with YB... my, has he come along way since the Lit-tle Cats post in May.

Back on track here... while simultaneously partaking in borderline inappropriate conversations with mostly males but also some fabulous females, I was reading the memoir 51/50 The Magical Adventures of a Single Life. In it, the amazingly passionate, flawed (and sober) Kristen McGuiness tells the story of a year of dating in search of love: "I wanted to love at such an intensity it felt as though I might die because of it." I highly recommend this book; Kristen's voice and prose make for an easy enjoyable read filled with adventure, inspiration and serious self-reflection. Her Nana is her soulmate (be sure to check out Novel Girl's recent post about her thoughts on soulmates and such). This 75 year old could-be-Jewish powerful woman claims that men are only good for two things: breeding and heavy lifting, and "it is the ones we cannot have whom we love the most." A part of me is in agreement with the Nana, which is comical because so many females out there are dependent on men and settle for men who don't treat them well. Not all women are from Venus.

This leads me to my most recent discovery in the dating game. Carly's Chronicles is a blog written by a 24 year old daughter of a top matchmaker that takes us through her journey in finding her next "great love" in New York City. Very Carrie Bradshaw... if Carrie Bradshaw had been a twentysomething immersed in social media. I admire this young girl for putting it all out there and must admit, while our attitude towards romance is astronomically different, I am highly entertained by her stories.

Although Kristen and Carly are also very different, they are both doing something pretty powerful. They are taking control of their love life and not waiting around for Mr. Right or Mr. NotsoRight to show up. Both women are on a path of self-discovery, and in dating many different types of men, they are getting to know who they really are and also what they ultimately want, need, and deserve in a partner. Kudos to them. I hope they serve as an inspiration to a few amazing woman I know that are currently stuck in relationships that are no fun for anyone.

In the spirit of self-reflection and discovery, I must reveal that I have been getting romanced lately. It has been a masochistic pattern of mine to flee from men who are infinitely sweet and very much into me, but I am working to overcome my cynicism and commitment phobia to embrace this new venture. This dating game is tricky.

The Man-Boy Mantra.

As a resident of this spooky town for four years and counting, I have come to understand the uniqueness of Newport. After attending Studi-HO two Saturdays in a row and observing the man-boys in their natural habitat, I felt blogspired. I got to chatting with BBW about this male hybrid breed and she seems to have them pegged (she's been a res for a few more years than I). The man-boys that I know seem to live in Never Neverland and range from age 24-40something. A few have 9-5 jobs, some work construction, some in the restaurant industry. Whatever their profession, when they head out with the "boys," they get sloppy drunk, act wild, and regularly sleep with barely legal ladies. I don't blame them though, and here is why. This "city by the sea" (aka small town) is a seasonal paradise. It's a summer/beach/college town (read: DRUNK campus). When the summer ends (sigh), every weekend is a repeat of the prior. Same locations, same faces, same blackouts. Spooky Sameport. A great deal of these hybrids can be spotted easily: they have excessive tats, they rock flat-brimmed hats, maybe plaid, maybe a tight tee, and they drive trucks. I decided to interview a friend- who pseudo fits the bill- about this man-boy mentality. He was immediately on the defense, claiming it is "Newport's fault" and that he is "a product of his environment." Below I have included the end of the interview, with his permission of course.

do you enjoy your man-boy lifestyle

seriously

ummm i honestly just have fun while im single...its dif when im dating someone...so until then...

but the way i look at it is this..

ready?

I'm ready

??

i used to work with a bunch of old ppl, people that made like 500-600k a year, im sitting there struggling, trying to get my career going and anyone of them would have done anything to trade spots with me and do what we do on the weekend in newport, theyd give it all up to get drunk and go to salve parties

aaaaaand thats what keeps me going

ahahahahahaha

scary reality

they were all miserable

i am not miserable

I'm not really asking you to justify it

this is journalistic curiosity

so I am glad you are not miserable

thanks

i keep winking by accident

that was supposed to be a regular smile

and you can print that

So I guess there is no profound realization to be made here. The man-boys are just another Newport staple that we have come to accept... and appreciate? As BBW would say, "See you on campus!"

Chubby drunks and skinny dorks.

Back-story for those who don't know us, Kitty Cat and I began our love affair when we both moved to Newport in the summer of 07. Since then she has seen me kiss a few frogs, date some characters, and crush on some boys. She used to say I didn't have a type and that my taste was all over the place. About a year or so ago, Kitty Cat came to the sudden and profound realization that I did have a type: chubby drunks and skinny dorks. I died... found this hilarious. I admitted to crushing on one chubby and she and Egg Monster won't let me live it down! Egg has repeatedly referred to boys I am dating or interested in as FLs (fat lovers). That being said, I recently engaged in a gchat discussion with Gail involving types, which ultimately sparked my facebook status that turned into a fun forum. Gail and I both said that ideally our type is tall, dark, handsome, athletic, funny, smart... the list goes on. Do you understand where this is headed? THIS MAN DOES NOT EXIST. We are all flawed- men and women, boys and girls. So it is safe to say that our type- the type of member of the opposite sex that we think we are most attracted to/compatible with- is very rarely the type we end up dating. Our partner may (hopefully) possess the qualities we are looking for, but sometimes we end up lusting/liking/loving someone who ends up being the antithesis of our supposed type. I want to report out some of the feedback I received from my "Girls and guys... do you have a type?" status on the book. Not many seriously answered the question, which I appreciated. Let's be honest, I totally dig people who don't take themselves too seriously.

Female responses: Definitely, Any boy skinner than me, I have no type. I'm a lover- not a fighter, old and rich with heart complications, setforlife crowd, Is funny a type? surfers and preps catch me eye... and guys in suits.

Male responses: vagina, the type who doesn't have a blog (smartass), I have absolutely no type whatsoever, dark hair and dark eyes, you are ridiculous (off topic, but funny), available, anything with a pulse.

It is somewhat clear by this collection that, aside from my grad school guypal Soldier, the boys are much less selective than the girls.

To sum this all up and bring you back to the title of this post, I believe that most people my age are starting to realize that it is personality that matters most. It is who you make a connection with, not who catches your eye with their basketball player build or exotic eyes. To break down Kitty-Cat's assessment of my type, I see the "chubby drunks" as the guys who are the life of the party and can make me laugh. Since they are lacking in the hot bod department, these "chubby drunks" have to work harder on perfecting their stellar personality and entertainment skills for bar nights out. A man that can make me laugh and have a good time is attractive in my book. As for the "skinny dorks," they tend to be tall (this makes me feel small and feminine and I like it) and intelligent. Intelligence is uber uber sexy. Nothing makes my lower manhattan tingle more than a man who is well-read, well-versed in history, politics, music, et cetera and exhibits an innate hunger for knowledge.

The lesson to be learned here is that our "type" may not exist. I would like to quote a couple near and dear friends to solidify my closing statement...

Chi Girl: "I will never find a Jewish guido who's brilliant and athletic and tall. Unless I get into weird science and build one."

Das (in response to my do you have a type question): "Not really no. Just honesty and character."

My advice... don't wait for weird science. Embrace the quirks in others and maybe you will find yourself a soulmate.

New chapters.

As the summer comes to a end (tear), so does a chapter in my life. Those of you who know me well and read this regularly are probably aware that Kitty Cat is my roommate. Well, I am incredibly sad to report that she and I are breaking up...err, moving out. KC has been crying incessently these past few days, and I am still in denial. We were perfect roommates and our apartment was super cozy. Many memories from 104 Kay. Brief sampling: spontaneous dance parties, rehashing the previous evening together while lying in my bed, couch-dwelling while watching Chelsea and indulging in some half-baked froyo, beach cruising and walking downtown from the apt, "cooking" together (we could probably do some mean Lean Cuisine endorsements), lazy Sunday discussions/inventions, blankly staring into our closets for outfits, frequent visits from Egg, Coon Dawg, Chowe and other mutual fun friends, and the lovely note (pictured below) that was posted in our shower for the latter half of our lease. Thankfully I have documentation on this blog of all the wild times. Kay Street is home :)

Little off topic here, but I am contemplating making "Sometimes I spew word vomit" T-shirts. If you are a character and interested in rocking a personalized deep V, inquire within.

Moving away from the depressing tone, I would like to recognize and congratulate a few of my beautiful ladies who recently shared spectacular news with me. Last Monday, I received not one, but two phone calls from my Bristaaal gals announcing they each have a bun in the oven. In March, TC and Ery-Min will both make me a proud Auntie! Wooo girls! Just yesterday, one of my DZ girls, A-Co, was here in Newport with her man for the night. Well... her man (of 4 years...they are an exception to one of the "he's just not that into you" rules) got down on one knee and proposed on the Cliff Walk. The ring is beeeaauutiful and A-Co was glowing when I met them for drinks last night. I could not be happier for these two- and she's the first of my college ladies to get hitched! Soooo excited for their wedding. Mazel Tov my loves.

Life is a bit like a good book. We can be left feeling disappointed when an exciting chapter ends, but the anticipation of what's to come in the next chapter can often be doubly exciting. Cheers to new chapters and precious memories of the old ones.

Unique New York.

New York, New York. A place so nice they had to name it twice. The city that never sleeps...and has stolen my heart. My last two visits have been so amazing that I am now seriously considering making the move to the Big Apple once I am through with grad school. Novel Girl was a gracious, hospitable hostess once again. The entire weekend we had a feeling... everything was working out in our favor... and we were desperately searching for the proper adjective to convey the feeling. We first thought it was serendipitous, then fortuitous, maybe auspicious (we also had a discussion regarding our shared affinity for words that end in ous after Summer Ale described me as loquacious). Finally, with the help of our friend Das, decided we had the midas touch. Prepare for the weekend update.
Friday: Departed the city by the sea and arrived in the concrete jungle around 7. Met Novel Girl in the E.Vill for a pre-weekend mani and started the evening at AA and SeanEballs' rooftop for conversation, mascara application, and pre-bar libations. The conversation was exceptional of course (we are all a bit wacky/quirky). The mascara was applied to Dustinternet's beautiful eyelashes. I've been obsessed with his eyelashes since we met in college. Creepy? Maybe. But I know I'm not alone. The libation of the night was vodka on the rocks spiked with an ice pop. That's what I call #resourceful. We left the boys around 1 to meet Rock Lock (who was shmammered and ready to call it a night) and Dinky Lover at Sutton Place. Decided not to stay and lingered outside debating where to go when Novel Girl was tweeted at by Tiger to see if she was still up and out. Coincidentally, he was at a karoke bar just a few blocks away (midas touch). We met him there and NG introduced me as @Colie_D! Bahaha, oh twitter. There was a beer bong involved and before long, it was closing time. But our night did not end there... we checked in @ The Bromley and discussed Catcher in the Rye, blogs, and Brazzers with a little help from MaryJane. I believe NG and I made it back to her humble abode at the respectable hour of six.
Saturday: On little sleep and poss (not def) a bit malnourished, Novel Girl and I ventured out around noon for a lovely #lesbihonest day date. We took the subway to Central Park and explored. We just kept walking and walking with no plan really. Stumbled upon Hans Christian Andersen and Alice in Wonderland statues (hey Lewis Carroll, you were a creative genius). There were many little tykes hanging out there, and one in particular caught our eye. She looked like Abagail Breslin, rocking silly bands, leggings and a pretty bandana wrapped around her braided hair. An hour or so later, after climbing the spiral stairwell at Belcourt Castle and enjoying the serene view of the park, we spotted Abagail again- straight chillin with her fam. Midas touch? That castle view is unbelievable... I have never felt so at peace. Our park exploration continued with Strawberry Fields....forever. Oh how I heart The Beatles. I can thank TrayDay for this undying love. Novel Girl purchased some hippie-ish buttons that she later converted into magnets to add to her diverse collection. As we were exiting the park, we stumbled upon a peace bus, painted white and adorned with inspiration quotes about kindness. One of my favorites is pictured below.

Next stop: The Met for some culture consumption. As we mosied along checking out Egyptian art, musical intstruments (Ringo's gold drum included), jewelry, et cetera, Novel Girl commented that she has been to The Met dozens of times and we were stumbling upon things she had never seen. We also sat on the steps and channeled our inner S and B. Xoxo, Gossip Girl. We decided around 4 it was probably time to walk Parker (that chick magnet) and feed our faces, so we walked to Madison Square Park and waited "on line" for a delectable double shack burger at The Shake Shack. NG then took me over to Gramercy Park, where only key holders are allowed entry. Uber-exclusive...naturally Novel Girl's dream house is in the neighborhood. Back in the E.Vill, it was 80's prom night at Webster Hall. I've got to attend one of these weekends. Sidenote: Novel Girl and I share a similiar musical taste and we created an epic weekend playlist that included "Teach me how to Dougie." Somehow, that song became the theme song of the weekend. Saturday evening brought a visit from AB, that quirky cat who is "so far out of every loop that ever existed." Love her. The three of us strolled down to R Bar where we met some of our College Gals and The Boys of Ramaz. I proceeded to dougie on the stripper pole and caught the attention of Lewish the birthday boy. It is official. I am a magnetic shiksa, attracting Jewish boys left and right. We had to skip out of R Bar because we couldn't let the weekend go by without seeing Summer Ale, JJ Backstreet and all the Syo Boys. We bar hopped with that crew and I attracted another Jew- wooo! The evening came to a close at U2 Karoke, per usual, with Sami serenading us on the mic.

Sunday: Novel Girl, Summer Ale and yours truly schleped to Brooklyn in the rain, singing Garbage and toting our spectacular clear bell shaped umbrellas to the JellyNYC Pool Party. Das recommended that we see Chromeo and claimed, "if you can't dance to Chromeo, you don't have a pulse." Welp, we danced. our. asses. off. Click here to read Novel Girl's depiction of our experience. I won't attempt to reinvent the wheel when my girl has already done a stellar job of retelling our day. I have included a youtube video of "Tenderoni" below- enjoy.

Moral of the story is this: after music, New York is my boyfriend, and I feel like a long lasting relationship is in the works.

Lower Manhattan: a self-sufficient neighborhood.

I must credit Novel Girl for this title. Back in March I referred to my lady parts as "lower manhattan" in No Shame in the Game, and while my mother was horrified, NG was obsessed and amused (she resides in the East Village). The blogspiration for this taboo topic came last night at girls night. I must preface this by saying that- for once- I will NOT be including names in this post. The subject matter is crass and I'm not going to throw anyone (but myself) under the bus. One of my sexual girlfriends admitted to attempting to dry hump her vibrator recently because "she really wanted to have sex." This led to an interesting discussion throughout the evening and motivated me to question several male and female friends today while battling a hangover (it's my break from school... I'm getting a little college). I felt this line from one of my favorite songs from RENT was an apropos opener: "Creation, vacation, mucho masturbation!"

This is not the first time I have breached the subject of self-stimulation (see Reef Rider is Wild and Sunday Funday. College Style). This is, however, the first time I will be discussing it at length. I was jazzed that last night's conversation moved away from petty drama (yawn) and on to inappropriate. I learned I had a few friends that shared my love of the silver bullet, a few that prefer manual labor, and one that was uncomfortable contributing (this surprised me because she was one of my college friends that got laid frequently and was pretty open to talking about sex). What's interesting about me is that I was a complete prude until college and definitely too innocent and freaked out to explore my lower manhattan. Welp, that has sure changed. It's true what all the silly magazines say about having a better sex life. We need to know what turns us on and how to get ourselves off in order to obtain maximum pleasure with a partner. What thrills me is that apparently I have not yet reached my sexual prime (for women it's our thirties), and I have lots to look forward to. Confession: this year I experimented with phone sex, and if I told my 22 year old self this she would not believe me. It's awkward at first, but if the person on the other end is interactive and saying the right things, it can be quite exciting. One male friend said it's "way better" than porn, "much more personalized" and that "the voice is key." While some of my girlfriends are weirded out by the notion of it, several ladies admitted to partaking and thoroughly enjoying sexting, phone and video sex. Oh so virtual and progressive.
I wish I could remember the first time I masturbated as vividly as my girl Chelsea did when she described her first experience with "The Feeling" in the first chapter of Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang. She spent the greater part of her eighth year humping swing sets and sleeping bags. Kitty Cat and Chowe have a student at their school who is known as the "self-stimulator" and is often spotted moving her hips in a circular motion against the edge of the desk or while lying on the rug. I don't think I had a clue that I was blessed with "The Power" (Judy Blume reference from Summer Sisters) between my legs at that age and I am certain I found it creepy when I heard stories of boys jerking off in middle school. With adulthood comes acceptance. Ha!
The general consensus from my bitches is that they do not need porn to get themselves off...their imagination and some good vibrations is all they require. A few confessed to playing daily, while most said they did whenever they were feeling frisky, and more often when they were not receiving the real thing on the reg. One said she was scared of vibrators because she was worried she might rely on them even with a man around in order to cross the finish line.
Generally, the boys use porn. So many sites to choose from...I wouldn't know where to begin. It's funny how the porn industry has evolved over the years. Most guys said they do it daily. I posed this question to a couple: frequency, location, materials used? One responded: Eight times daily, public, anal beads. Another: once a day, bed or shower, tissues. The latter was a serious response. The former did admit to being a bit of monk and not the most sexually charged individual, to which I got a chuckle. When I asked him about porn or imagination, he claimed 50/50. So not all men (or women) are as predictable as I initially thought. I must say, it was fun to push the conservative kids to open up (or refuse) about this crude/very personal matter, and equally enjoyable to converse with my sexually charged mates regarding their masturbatory behavior. Frankly speaking, I think that until I am getting regular penetration, I will maintain a close personal relationship with my trusty silver bullet.
Feel free to judge me. It's not a bad thing :)

Reverse prostitution. Not...great.

Behold, another guest writing appearance by DJ Slumpbuster. The kid can't catch a break. This past weekend I had to miss the annual BI trip with my boys and bitches in order to attend my cousin's wedding in Florida. DJ SB emailed a synopsis of his personal Island Adventure. The only other details I gathered involved late night push-up contests and a snuggle fest between DWD and Chowe. A budding romance in the works perhaps?! Below is an email that was forwarded to me by DJ SB after he sent it to Prude-ish Pele. Funny part is that he actually put their real names in quotes when he sent it to her. "Blessed are those who can laugh at themselves, for they will never cease to be amused." Enjoy the mockery he makes of himself.

Subject line: for services never rendered
This is a story of a man, let's call him "DJ Slumpbuster," who was paid the lowly sum of $20 not to hook up. This may be the first instance of reverse prostitution in Rhode Island and hopefully the last. This story begins on Block Island, where "DJ SB" retreats to escape the stresses of being an unemployed college student. For the sake of brevity, this story takes place on day two of "DJ SB's" trip. It was on this Friday that the stalking began. Every few minutes, "DJ SB's" phone would vibrate with an incessant message from an Armenian girl from Warwick, who was threatening to take the five o'clock ferry to the block. This girl from Warwick, I don't know, let's call her "Prude-ish Pele," was serious with her threat and sure enough, showed up at "DJ SB's" yacht around 6ish (DJ SB's yacht in this sense refers to his friend's boat). After "Prude-ish Pele's" third glass of wine, she decided to take "DJ SB" to the hotel where she was staying with a group of her friends. It was a beautiful hotel right there on the main street, perfect for a couple to spend a romantic evening. However, as these friends were also from Warwick (read T), they had this hotel room crammed tighter than a Cuban refugee raft. There was even a bed made up in the bathtub, for not one, but two people. From the hotel, "PP" and "DJ SB" retreated to a bar to enjoy a wonderful set of music from a terrific cover band called "Those Guys Suck." Now, as you all know, after the party comes the hotel lobby. However, as there were thirteen people sharing a twin bed in "PP's" hotel room, she decided to follow "DJ SB" and get late night food and retire to his yacht. This is where the solicitation occurred. As they were sitting in his stateroom, "Prude-ish Pele" made it explicitly clear that she was in no way going to hook up with "DJ SB." She did, however, have no problem making love to his chicken tender and french fry platter that he had so graciously purchased. Once the food was gone, "PP" left the yacht to go back to the late night spot, as she texted, to get some "moose food" (let's assume she meant more). After she had crushed moose food, she walked back to the yacht because, hey, it's better than sleeping in a sink. She begs and grovels for a place to sleep and "DJ SB," the gentleman that he is, allows her to share his room. The next morning, "DJ SB" awakes to a note pinned to a twenty dollar bill, which said, "Thanks for the chicken tenders and for not hooking up with me, have a great day." And that my friends is the story of "DJ SB," the reverse prostitute.

Headed out for drinks tonight with the reverse prostitute himself. Maybe I will attempt to whore him out and his next email to Prude-ish Pele will be an account of what she missed out on by making love to fried food instead of him.

Bitches want to be blogged about.

This week Novel Girl (via AA) turned me on to a commencement speech that was given by David Foster Wallace back in 2005. You should all read it... it really resonated with me and since reading I have become uber cognizant of the way in which I think. Here is a little taste...

"Here is just one example of the total wrongness of something I tend to be automatically sure of: everything in my own immediate experience supports my deep belief that I am the absolute center of the universe; the realest, and most vivid and important person in existence. We rarely think about this natural, basic sort of self-centeredness because it's so socially repulsive. But it's pretty much the same for all of us. It is our default setting; hard-wired into our boards at birth. Think about it- there is no experience that you have had that you are not the absolute center of. The world as you experience it is there in front of YOU or behind YOU, to the left or right of YOU, on YOUR TV or YOUR monitor. And so on. Other people's thoughts and feelings have to be communicated to you somehow, but your own are so immediate, urgent, real."

Man is brilliant, right? What he speaks of is so profoundly obvious. Novel Girl recently tweeted, "I have a crush on a dead guy," as she is currently elbow deep in a collection of his essays and totally digging his brain (so am I).

I thought this would an appropriate intro to this long-awaited (by some) post. You can look at this one of two ways. 1. I have a few friends that read religiously and have been threatening to stop if I don't blog about them soon (self-centered?). 2. They are faithful followers and I should show my appreciation by communicating THEIR thoughts, feelings, actions and stop being self-centered myself. Either way, welcome a few new characters to Sometimes I spew word vomit...
My mini-me/pseudo-sister, the lovely Rory Rose, is newly single. This barely legal beaut was in a serious relationship for over a year (complete with plans to wed) and was often acting waaayyy more mature than yours truly. I love her dearly, but I had been waiting for her to turn 21 for 5 years and was hoping she would be ready to get wild with me. No such luck- until now. Look out boys, Rory Rose is back on the market...and the prowl. Friday night that cute little vixen spent the evening sipping cocktails at Portside with the super sexy photographer that I developed a crush on back in 04 when my uncle purchased his photos for his shoe store. Harder(how hot is that last name?) is 28 and Rory is concerned about the age gap. We all know men mature at a snail's pace girl, go get him! And be prepared to share the intimate details with me (and my readers).
Now on to my grad school gals. Rewind to day one of my Master's program. I don't know a soul, so I decide to sit next to a pretty Italian girl who would quickly become my new bestie. She (Chefanova) and Charlotte are avid readers and sexual young ladies (they just are a little quieter about it than I). Charlotte is named after the SATC character and has been with her boyfriend for 4 years. She recently confessed that her and the boy want to spice it up and have made a list of all the places they plan to fornicate (they attempted the car sex...at a party...apparently there were too many peeping Toms present). Stay tuned for details as they cross off locations, and perhaps you will be interested in adding some to your own fucket lists.
On to Chefanova, a spring chicken at the ripe young age of 22. She broke things off with her German boyfriend in the spring because she could no longer handle the LDR (long distance relationship). Chefanova's summer confession: She joined an online dating site and met new man candy. This candy happens to be twice her age and a rockstar in the bedroom. Pretty sure she has become addicted to the sweet lovin from Old Man Mafioso. Lately I have had an affinity for the YB's, so I was a little put off at first by the astronomical age difference. The more she tells me about OMM, the more intrigued I become. We've decided that Chefanova is the Samantha of our little grad school clique, and I have a feeling she and Reef Rider would get along famously. Which reminds me, I need to catch up with that broad. She is bound to have stories for me.

Grad gals on our last night of summer hell :)

More updates on these bitches to come, and brace yourself for some other fun stories. I have a week of freedom that involves a city visit... I anticipate wild times in the near future.

Today I had a thought...what if I had never met you?

I feel as though I should preface this post by letting my readers know that this will not be a recount of a wild night out nor will it be a ridiculous story about one of my interesting friends. It will be more of a reflection, as I have been in a rather emotional and contemplative state in these past couple weeks. I should credit my dear friend Novel Girl for the inspiration she provided with her post, Where'd all the Good People Go. I may not delve quite as deep as she did, but here goes.

A few facts for you all:

1. Summer is my season. Being a teacher (and before that, a college student) my summers past have been spent bartending/waitressing. This mindless, flexible and lucrative job enabled me to spend any time I had off socializing and partaking in countless festivities that come with the warm weather and carefree vibe of sweet summertime.

2. I am a social butterfly and enjoy any and all time spent at social gatherings, large or small, with or without adult beverages. Let it be known that my group of friends and family is extremely diverse and I cherish each and every relationship that I possess.

3. My summer schedule has NOT been conducive to #1 and #2. Tomorrow will be my last night of the 1o week summer grad school hell I have been living, which included six classes, three nights a week, four hours per night (with a great deal of papers, projects and reading to complete outside of classes). I also taught summer school during the month of July, have been tutoring two children all summer and work at a boutique part time. I recently learned that it is a Gemini trait to spread yourself thin (further proof that I fit this sign to a T).

Why did I just bore you with my summer madness? I have a point to make, I swear. The first day of August (is it really August 11th already?) was a Sunday, and a rather glorious Sunday to boot apart from my vicious post folk fest hangover. It was also the day of my old friend Ery-Min's bridal shower. Sidenote: I used to think that I would be young forever and this day would never come, but alas, it has arrived. Wedding mania (one this past weekend, two in September, two next summer that I know of). I have officially reached the age where my friends are starting to settle down. But I don't wanna grow up!! Back to Shower Sunday. Ery-Min has been in my life since 3rd grade and we have been through a great deal together- good, bad, insane, tragic, hilarious, heartfelt. When I walked into the party, I was showered with feelings of nostalgia (pun intended). Looking at her mom, aunt, sisters, and mutual friends was like watching clips from a movie of my youth. Sitting there watching her open presents miserably (the whole shower idea and showing of the gifts is sooo not EM's style) I began to take a walk down memory lane with a HS friend that was also in attendance. EM's youngest sister- who was practically a baby when we were causing trouble as kids- is now 16!! When did I become 26 and how did it happen so fast? I got into quite the conversation about childhood camping trips, high school shenanigans, going to bars on school nights (?!). Reminiscing really does a strange number on your psyche. It felt good and I left feeling truly happy for my Ery-Min. I must digress for a somber moment to remember EM's first love and another old friend of mine who passed away five years ago this month. Ery loved Patty as far back as I can remember. I can still see her fifth grade hand scribbling his name under a heart in her notebook. Five years ago a tragic accident took his life but also brought EM and I back together. We drifted when I went to college, as people often do, and this unspeakable event drew me back to her. It took years to mend her heart as it had been torn to shreds. I can't fathom what it must be like to lose the one person that means the most to you in this life. Ery's fiance, MV, did the job of piecing her heart back together and I am so excited to celebrate their wedding day next month.

OK..the point I want to make here is the euphoric feeling I carried with me throughout that entire Sunday. After leaving the shower, I met up with TrayDay at my favorite cafe and talked about life, art, writing, reading, travel, summer, you name it. Every time we get together we say we need to do it more often. We continued the day by scooting helmet-free/illegally into Warren to his apt where I got my first viewing of his latest creations, coffee table books and upcoming video project. When it was time for my talented tall friend and I to part ways, he dropped me off to spend the next three hours of my reunion day with my old friends Hilaho and Stiner. It's incredibly comforting to be able to pick up right where you left off with friends that you haven't spent much time with in years. I feel truly blessed and cherish these special bonds even more so as the years pass.

The title of this post is a quote from the final season of SATC... Carrie says it to the girls at her farewell dinner. It always makes me think about what my life would be like had it not been shaped by the phenomenal individuals I have gotten to know and love. I'm lucky :)