FOR THE RECORD

I guess I've not been very clear, especially if Megan and Amy are confused... you two are like my most loyal readers... so for the record:

I am in the states for two weeks. I am not going to LA. I arrived in NJ yesterday and I will be here till Monday when I go to the Cape with my family for a week's holiday. I am here in Jersey because my cousin Bryna (mom's side, TJ's sister for those keeping count). The wedding is Saturday, I am the minister (gulp, getting nervous now that I am here, can't say a word about being nervous...because, ah, it's NOT ABOUT ME...)

Will be going to NYC tomorrow thur for the day, and going to see Em and Justin, Vix, maybe meggo? Then will be back in the city on Sunday for the same thing... then after the cape next weekend-ish coming back to the city till I leave on Tuesday the 14th. Have to be back in Rome the 15th because I have a new rommate moving in...

THE RUSSIAN. We don't know much about her, american russian, doing her Masters in Rome...seems nice on the phone. Hope she's cool. Scary right? Anyway.Stay tuned bacause the cold world stops: At Via Panisperna 189- Roma.

So there it is, for your voyeuristic viewing pleasure.

Fun times.

IT’S 6 AM

It’s 6:17am and I am on my way to the airport. I was awoken just 5 minutes before my alarm clock went off to the phone. Miss Zoë Foster calling to say, that Emily and Justin Henry had a baby girl tonight (for you, last night for me).

We don’t have the name yet, but we do now the baby is healthy at a whopping 8 pounds 15 ounces, slightly induced, and slightly epidurilized…. But here and happy and god damn it.

So happy for them. So happy I get to go meet the newest family member, because by nightfall I will be in the tri-state-area…

Feeling a little strange- going off to America in a few hours. Jesus. Excited too.

Going to a wedding this weekend, I mean uh, DOING the wedding this weekend, and having some time down at the cape, and get to see Emily’s baby, and see my new found gay friend (go M!) and you know, fun times.

AHHHHHHHHHH. My fucking digital camera broke today… it was the drop that finally killed it.

I’m devastated. I’ve grown so so used to it… feel very sad. But at least I will be in the states the next time I go to sleep. I might just say fuck it and buy a new one. (what else are credit cards for????)

I already miss my cats, and I absolutely already miss my friends and miss my Rome….

Shit.

My friend Julie got married yesterday (Monday I know… weird, here too)… but it was SO MUCH FUN. And a lovely send off if I may say so selfishly.

It’s now 6:23 and the city is waking up, scooters starting, buses driving, metal doors rising…. Noises I will miss. Just not at this hour.

Seems like things ARE changing. At least, today they are.

I CAN’T HELP IT

I am filled with an overwhelming feeling like all good things must end.

I hate this feeling.

I am one of those people who are both blessed and cursed with a hyper aware sense of perception. Which means, when I am in the thick of a moment I become aware of it… this has been a gift and a curse in many ways. Often it has given me pause in a hectic splendid time to reflect, smile and be grateful for my present surroundings… but all the while appreciating that they are indeed temporary… and this time, in my life, will, at some point, end.

Because noting truly great lasts.

Not living with Vicki, not collage, not Shoni, not Miles, not 1450 with Emily and Jocelyn, not poker with Hugo, Brendan and Emily, not the days of Big Al and the ‘back to one’ crew… nothing. It all fades, it all passes… everything grows up.

And so shall I.

…One day.

I am overwhelmed with that feeling today.

Finally I am comfortable here, and with that casual happy, comes the inevitable impending sense that this too shall pass.

Most days I smile, and am grateful that I have been so tuned in, to learn to appreciate such moments as they progress, but today I feel melancholy, and a little premature longing for what I have at present.

Which is a sure fire sign.

That things, are about to change.

BACK IN THE SADDLE

Holy shit the rain. It has been raining so hard here its wild! It’s fucking cold too. I had to get a blanket on the bed, and last night I even got a heated cat bed out for Sally… I’m talking chilly. It’s weird, isn’t it August? July was so unbearable hot, and August has been such fucking awesome weather… who knew? August was supposed to be terrible, not so far! (knock on wood…)

Does anyone remember about a month ago I asked about cold bed for the cats? Well, my friend Kate responded with an answer. It’s called “the Chillow” and it is exactly what I was looking for, a pillow (designed for humans but works for cats) that you fill with water, and it radiates cool. It’s AWESOME. Course it arrived today when I just got the heated cat bed out… but none the less, it’s should be great. I’m sure September will be hot and unpleasant, so they will be life savers.

Oh and get this, don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet, but my tenants are moving out of my apartment in LA this month. And (for those of you that I went to high school with) your never gonna believe who is moving in… Perrin Elisha.

For those of you that that means nothing to (which is probably every single one of you), I went to high school with Perrin and literally haven’t seen her since. And I get this email from her last month, am moving to la, heard you have and apt building…etc. The NEXT day my tenants tell me they are moving out. Fucking timing. SO Perrin and her man are moving into my apartment. Pretty great. Cuz it could have been a wee bit complicated finding a new tenant from Italy… but these things have a way of sorting themselves out don’t they?

And in other TOTALLY FUCKING FANTASTIC news. My parents, being the real estate genius’s that they are sold the house in Colorado, BUT BUT BUT they found a small Victorian right in town that they are ACTUALLY trading houses with, plus being paid the extra. It’s like the worlds greatest deal ever. So. Even though I will never get to go back to my childhood home in Emma, by next month we will have a new Home in Colorado, and now that that is a fact… I may very well have to move there next spring and be with my god sons. I am feeling the need to be near my boys.

I spoke to Shoni the other day and she put Aizean on the phone (FYI my 2 year old god son) who said. “Bye.” His twin brother wasn’t’ quiet up to the challenge, but I almost dropped dead right there on the phone. And that’s when I realized my god sons are growing up and I AM MISSING IT. And that sucks. And I don’t want to. So, as much as I want to be in Italy, I might very well want to be near them more. And now that there is a home on the horizon, I might very well be able to.

Ahhh. It’s all very exciting.

What else. Can’t believe I will be in New Jersey in like, a week. That’s scary. Fucking Jersey.

Anyway. Jersey, than the cape, and lots of friends. Gonna be great.

As for now, I am going to paint a sketch I did this afternoon, and then perhaps down to the pub to see some friends, and I’ve rented a few movies and It will be a snuggle up this evening.

I feel like I’m retired. It’s awesome.

Also I posted about a fucking thousands photos for your viewing pleasure:

Venice
Lucca/ Cinque Terra
More Cinque Terra
And Cortona…

Enjoy.

C

LITERALLY

Without being too melodramatic, my Italian vacation was just about the best week of my life.

I went to Lucca, wound up in Cinque Terra, and then spent two of the most glorious days in Cortona.

If it didn’t before, Italy really really has a hold of my heart now. I love this country so deeply, it’s kinda absurd.

I started off in Lucca, a small town near Florence. I took the train and arrived mid day. Roberto and Caroline were already there, and the three of us had gotten a hotel together. We had a wander for most of the after noon, Lucca is a small town and the original walls are still perfectly intact… it was amazing. We had a fine time. Realizing one day together was entirely not enough they hijacked me and drove me up north with them to Cinque Terra. Cinque Terra means literally, 5 lands, and it is on the coast up by, say the mid thigh/ upper knee of the Italian Boot. It is the bottom of the Italian Riviera… The area, Cinque Terra, is a collection of 5 towns that were fishing villages, they are essentially unreachable by car, and so you can walk in or take a train.

Cinque Terra is so obscenely beautiful, it was kinda hard to deal with… I mean, good fuck how the hell is anything that magical? So the three of wandered around, ate amazing food, drank Camparies by the sea and white wine by night…

The next morning Roberto and Caroline opted to head north, and I went south. I again, took the train, but not before having a swim in the sea (naked). Holy fucking calming surreal amazing.

It actually kinda spooked me how calm and the level of stillness and quiet I achieved… It was massive. And I realized all these months in Rome had been leading up to that morning in the sea, on my back, eyes closed, alone and silent. Floating there in the sea… totally calm. I had achieved all I had ever been looking for. And from now on is a clean slate.

It was pretty powerful.

So after one of those mornings that changes your life forever, I got on the train and headed down to Cortona.

Cortona is most recently famous for being the town featured in “Under the Tuscan Sun.” Aside from the obvious annoying connotations, Cortona is one of the most breathtaking places I have ever been. I had a deep and powerful connection to that place, and I have a feeling that, in my life, at some point I will live there.

It too was massively powerful.

I stayed with Lisabette and her husband Jamie- who are my dear friend Dede and Missy Brinkman niece/ cousin respectively. I had met them once about 9 years ago at Missy’s wedding, I completely didn’t remember them, but the three of us hit it off so big. They are both retired, living in Italy, ex-pat, cat lover, time wasters. The three of us were three peas in a pod, I’ll tell you what.

First of all, their apartment is so fucking amazing- it’s huge and comfortable and has the worlds best view, and just so happened to be perched directly above the town’s main piazza. (Imagine living above times square, without the noise, people, lights, crime, dirt, violence, Americanisms or ugliness… then, it’s kinda like that except a 500 times smaller and without all the neon).

It was such a fun fun two days. I wanted to stay so much longer, but I am such a sucker, I missed my cats and wanted to come home to snuggle them…. So I ended up leaving on a high note, with an unconditional invitation to return…

But Cortona gave me something I had been missing from my Italian Experience, and that was nature. I went on long walks, and we went out and picked wild black berries, and had a picnic in the woods… and the whole thing made me remember that despite all my efforts, I remain a country girl at heart.

The other thing it reminded me was, how much I enjoy drawing and painting. I hadn’t been doing much of that recently, and since I was in Cortona I can’t seem to stop sketching fucking everything I see. It’s very satisfying.

So I got home to Rome on Sat night, and it’s been kinda cold and rainy since I got home. Which is perfect. Because me and the cats have been snuggling overtime… My roommate is moving out in 2 weeks and so she and I spent the entire day in the house yesterday and made a huge Italian feast for dinner… complete with cake! Yum yum yum!

So it’s good to be home… but we’ll see. I may need to move to Cortona. That town, fucking amazing.

It was a great great great week.

VACATION

As if living in Italy isn’t a holiday enough, I am giving myself a real live vacation next week.

My dear friend Roberto Schaffer and his awesome wife Caroline are in Italy for August- and as I will be in the states when they are in Rome, we have decided to meet up in Tuscany.

Don’t have exact plans yet, but I booked us hotel rooms in an awesome little hotel (I found in this bitchen book of B and B’s in Italy that Gracy gave me). The hotel is in Lucca for Tuesday night. So I will take the train up to Lucca (just 30 min from Florence on Tuesday meet up with Roberto and Caroline for the night- don’t know about Wednesday night yet- maybe Pisa? Siena? Maybe somewhere wonderful and coastal? Maybe Montifillanco where there is supposedly the “best restaurant in Italy” “LA CHUISA” (or so says everyone whom I trust who has traveled this country extensively…- I’d LOVE to go…) then Thursday and Friday I will be in Cortona staying at Lisabette Brinkman’s. She is a cousin (?) I think, of my old old friend Missy Brinkman… so it is like family. I met her and her husband years ago at missy’s wedding, (not that I remember that, but they remember me, course… I had blue hair- kinda hard to forget blue hair…)and anyway, they invited me up, and so fuck it I’m gonna take them up on the offer.

After that I don’t know… come back? Maybe see Siena that day.. don’t know. But I speak good enough Italian now to wander safely. I don’t have too much money to spend, but I have this gift of time off, and I REALLY want to explore this country. It’s ridiculous that I have been here this long and have been out of Rome so little.

I am really excited.

On a side note, Friday night was a fucking blast. Me and my little crew actually played truth or dare… holy fucking funny. The thing about that game is, it doesn’t matter where you are from.. a dare is a dare in any language. We had an Irish boy kiss a Sicilian, an English girl get in a dumpster, and a French dude sing the American national anthem… it was solid stupid fun.

Starting to laugh more. Starting to drop the guard and actually laugh. Starting to really really enjoy and trust my friends.

Good times in Rome. Good times.

TO MEGAN AND WANNA

You have to check out this guys web site. He's is a computer animator from UCLA, and his shit is great... make sure to check out the interactive features... totally bitching.

You don't have to be Megan or Wanna to go, I just think you two will like it.

Check it out.

OH DEAR.

Should anyone want a good hardy laugh. Have a look at first comment on the most recent post.

Three words. Laugh out Loud.

Perfect, subtle, ironic, delicious.

God bless America.

UNTITLED THOUGHT

They say your not suppose to drink water while you eat. They say it’s “bad for you.” Did you know that? I didn’t. I just found this out. Every time I tell someone they say, “yea, I’ve known that forever.” As if it were as common knowledge as sugar makes you hyper.

Well I didn’t know. And what’s worse is I DO IT. A lot. I mean, I am a big water drinker at meals… I’m a fill ‘er up a few times ever go round.

So now, anytime I sit down to eat and I plow thru my requisite 3 or 4 glasses of water, instead of feeling refreshed and quenched, as I have been, for, oh say, the past 30 years. I now feel something that I refuse to associate with food. GUILT.

As if there aren’t enough rules revolving around eating and food as it is. Don’t eat fat, don’t eat sugar, don’t eat carbs, don’t eat after 7pm, don’t overeat, don’t eat too much of one thing, eat a certain percentage of grains, proteins, fats and carbs at every meal, count your calories, and the latest addition: Don’t drink water with meals.

What the fuck? Just wondering, is there any other way we can strip any shred of enjoyment from the consumption process?

I mean, we need food to survive. It’s something we HAVE TO do every day of our life, EVERYDAY. Why have we turned it into such a deeply regulated event, devoid of any pleasure or spontaneity? How many times have you heard someone say after eating a cookie or piece of cake, “that was so bad” or “god I’m gonna pay for that later”… when did eating what makes us happy become such a source of guilt and self disapproval?

The two other things that we have to do every day is sleep and shit. Right? And are there already enough rules in those departments, why must food join these two? Are we capably of allowing nothing in our daily routine to give us happiness? Why must we make every thing so restricted, so stringent, so sterile? Why can’t we just relax?

Sleep needs quiet, dark, soft, warm, alone, together…ect. It’s a pretty specifically formulated daily event. And who hasn’t wanted to sleep in, take a nap, get to bed early, stay in bed late more often? Sleeping has become an indulgence, instead of a right. A luxury instead of a basic necessity. We are forced to deprive ourselves of sleep to maintain productiveness. “But don’t wear yourself out.” What is the first thing they are you when you start to feel sick? “Have you been getting enough sleep? Tsk Tsk, you’ve got to take care of yourself.” As if you should know better. How dare you. To sleep all day is to be a lazy bum. To try and keep up is run yourself ragged. It’s an impossible position. And the result is guilt.

And shitting. Don’t even get me started. Talk about rules. God damn there are actual laws against defecating in public. Hell you can’t even piss in public. And holy hell the guilt the surrounds the toilet. Think I’m wrong? Ask yourself why you lock yourself in a closet several times a day. I mean, when was the last time farted loudly in a business meeting? Can you imagine letting one rip and smiling with pride in front of your boss? “Ah a fart, what a celebration to be the animal that is a human!” yea, I don’t think so.

It’s amazing the capability humans have to be ashamed of that which makes us what we are.

And within that, the desire to better out current status. I suppose that’s were dieting comes from. Not so much to be the best you can be, but really just to be better than you already are. Dieting fulfills a need to feel like WE ARE WORKING ON THE SITUATION. As long as I’m aspiring to achieve perfection, I can forgive my current inadequacies. For now, because I have stripped the fun out of eating, and given up hours of my week in a gym, I can feel better because I am working on it, and only now can I tolerate the fact, that I, am only human.

Now then. What can be said for people who don’t diet? People who ignore the innate desire to improve their current status. Do we assume that hey are guiltless? Is that possible? Do they feel that they’re perfect and need no improvement? I think we can pretty much insure that with the crippling prejudices against fat people these days, that that is most likely not the case. Or, do we assume that in fact that are so bogged down with guilt and self loathing that they have simply surrendered to their imperfections and now survive only to indulge them? I don’t pose to know the answer to that question. I think it’s differs person to person, obviously.

Either way, the fact remains that to eat what you want is against the rules. To sleep in is not aloud, and to squat and pee when you are about to burst is simply gross.

We just don’t want to admit what we are. We want to pretend it’s not true. So we idolize these highly manicured and manufactured images of celebrities. People who are nowhere near the perfect creatures we pretend they are. No matter how much she diets, waxes, plucks, jogs, has entire PR teams primp and protect her, and spin her image… the fact remains that when (insert name of your favorite celebrity here) wakes up in the morning, she has bad breath, she needs more sleep, and her shit DOES stink.

My favorite part about it, is that WE KNOW ALL OF THIS. But, it’s akin to jealousy. We can rationalize all we want, and talk about it till we are blue in the face, but we can’t change THE WAY WE FEEL.

Guilt over being human is brutal. And it crosses nationalities and cultural boundaries. It’s human. It’s not animal, it’s human. Dogs shit on the street and look you right in the eye while they do it. They have no shame, no guilt.

It brings me back to the water with my meals. Humans are 96% water. How can water be bad for us? It’s part of who we are. And yet, why do I suddenly feel like an outlaw when I sip my San Pellegrino with lunch? Why do I feel like I am about to be scolded, or worse that I am silently scolding myself?

Perhaps the next time I order, I should just ask the waiter to bring another glass of water, and this time hold the side of guilt.

DUDE, BINGO

Well, I’ve had a pretty good couple of days. I am officially off work, and it’s like a whole new world. So awesome.

I have two days left of Italian class, and it is so much fun. It’s very satisfying to go back to class and to remember everything else I’ve already learned.. as it turns out I actually might be able to one day speak this language.

As you may or may not know, Italians take the month of August off. They all just close up their shops and grocery stores, and businesses and gas stations, and go out of town for the month. It’s pretty amazing. I mean, can you imagine LA closing down for an afternoon? Never. But Rome is dead. I mean dead, and every day it empties out more. All the coffee shops are closed, most restaurants are closed, LUCKILY my grocery store is remaining open (thank god) but book stores are closing, clothing stores, all boutiques… it’s amazing. Now, that being said a certain amount of really touristy things stay open.. it isn’t worth it for them to close, but in general the city gets really quiet.

And fuck man, it’s nice here. The streets are empty. Driving is bliss! This week a lot of construction has started, they use this opportunity to repair a lot of roads and such… but there is parking everywhere, and the sidewalks are empty... it’s just really nice. Course the bummer is all my local restaurants are closed, no pizza, no kabobs, no ice cream, no sandwiches…. But McDonalds is open… woo-hoo.

Speaking of American food, last night me and a few friends went to the Hard Rock Café. Holy shit it was AWESOME. I hadn’t been so excited to see a plate of nachos in my entire life. Fiona, Zoe and I ate them so fast we actually ordered a second plate. HA! We were three girls who had been without cheddar cheese for far too long, and it was time to fix that. Hard Rock has an excellent happy hour, wicked cheap, but I must be getting old, because it is really fucking loud in there, and it reminded me of the hard Rock Hotel in Vegas. The only hard rock I have been to in years.

It was funny, going to the Hard Rock, it made me remember that there was a time when one of my life ambitions was to see all the Hard Rock Café’s in the world. I realize now that was about the travel, and less about the T-shirts… but it brought me back to a time, when the most valuable thing was my hard rock t-shirts… good grief.

Another highlight in the last few days was this weekend when me and a crew of brits when to a roman bingo hall. Pretty much your standard scene out of a kubrick nightmare… it was a really creepy room with enormously high ceilings, a whole smoking section… the walls were primary yellow with burgundy trim, and a whole wall of ENORMOUS industrial piping, somewhat decoratively painted shinny matching burgundy. The room was completely silent save the pre recorded voice of a woman in Italian calling out the numbers.

Quindici.
Due
Venti quatro.

All exactly the same, save the number sesanta sete. For some reason this one was recorded by another woman, and after several rounds every time the number came up, our table erupted with laughter.

It was a pretty fun night, mostly because they kept asking us to be quiet, and this just made us laugh harder. It was like being in church, except you could smoke. We kept ordering round after round of drinks, and not fucking one of us won bingo… it think the fucker was rigged against us. At one point I won. I mean, I totally got bingo, so I yelled out with all my might BINGO!!! Oh man it was awesome, my entire table cheered, everyone gave us dirty looks (a funny thing happens to a group of foreigners who have been in a country so long, and been consistently sneered at by locals… you begin to learn how to sneer back…)

Anyway, mother fuckers came back to me to tell me I in fact had not won bingo, I had mistakenly marked off a number. I was so deflated, heartbroken really. But I decided not to make a big deal and let it go. As the night wore on I got more and more convinced that I should have asked to see the proof. I got robbed man,… I felt like the guy from Dazed and Confused who gets more and more pissed off after getting shoved at the party (Came here to do two things, drink beer, and kick some ass, looks like I’m almost outta beer)… that was me, all brooding hours later…

HA! I didn’t really care. It was still fun as hell. We returned the fuck you by stealing a trophy. Which later was stolen from us by a group of male American tourists… at a bar in the center… ahh how the world goes round.

All in all things are moving along just fine for me.


Let me put it this way, I have taken a nap 3 days in a row, and that, if nothing else, is worth writing home about.

SOLDI SOLDI

I hate shopping.

I always have.

I am one of those shoppers that always puts it off until I absolutely have to go… you know, I wait until I am down to a few ragged pair of underwear, and I finally breakdown and say fuck it, and go to the Gap Body. I walk in, throw 10 of the exact same size and color on the counter and run for my life.

My mother is the only person I shop with. She is probably the only person in the last 5 years I have tried clothes on in front of. She makes shopping easier for me. She’s fast, has good taste and often pays for things. Somehow it’s not as bad with her.

But lets face it, it’s always pretty bad. Especially because, number one: I don’t have a lot of money to buy whatever I want, and number two: I don’t have a body shape or size that stores tend to favor. So shopping sucks. I can’t fit into anything, and when I do I can’t afford it.

Shopping is evil.

Ok. So I am performing a wedding next month in New Jersey. (for those of you that don't know I am an ordained Minister and my cousin has asked me to perform her wedding, which will be my third). So I have this wedding and I don’t know what I’m going to wear… and normal, it’s like fuck it, I don’t give a shit, recycle clothes, no worried, everyone is looking at the bride anyway. But see, IM THE FUCKING REVEREND., it’s not like I am going to just blend in and be anonymous. I’m pretty sure I will get noticed.. I’d say there is a pretty good chance at least everyone at the wedding will be staring in my general direction for about 10 minutes during the ceremony. Shit

So I have a skirt I can use, and I am totally gonna wear the stand by comfort heals,… that just leaves the shirt. It’s all about the top, which is easier for me than bottoms, so that much is good I guess.

Here’s the rub.

IM IN ROME.

If I thought shopping in the US was bad… holy fuck,.

Stores in Rome are like Beverly Hills on Meth. All the clothes are size fuck you, and so are the prices. I mean SERIOUSLY. And the women working are so mean it’s amazing… really amazing. I’m not intimidated very easily, but I went into a store today and oh my god, I thought they were going to call Interpol on me or something… how dare a person like me DARE to shop in their store…

And now that my Italian is better I can now understand, that no, I’m not being paranoid, they really are talking about me. AWESOME.

God damn I hate shopping. I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty woman. Unfortunately I neither have a very wealth sugar daddy or an ass you could crack a walnut on, so it was kind or a sham in the end for me.

There are only 2 reasons I have any clothes at all. One: my mother. Two: I know where to go at home for what I want when I need it. So when I absolutely have to I can do the old in/out move and get said desired items.

Ahhhhh. SO now we have come to the crux of my problem.

I need something, and I don’t know where to go to find it which means, sadly enough.. I will be forced to…BROWSE.

Is there nothing worse than this? I think not. Wandering for hours looking at one store after another filled with my insecurities and loathing,

I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I wouldn’t give for the familiar comforts of the fancy department at Banana Republic right now.

PAGE 80

Weather I like it or not, I have to admit that I have always imagined that my life is a movie. That somewhere someone is watching, laughing, crying, pulling for me. Interested.

I guess it means that in this confusing ass seemingly meaningless life… there is a point, a happy ending. And even further towards the painful admission… I think it’s a romantic comedy I’m living. I mean as far as I can tell… this ain’t to period epic, definitely not a western… and up until now there has been no conspiracy theories that have forced me to jump off buildings to risk my life for the betterment, and survival of the world.

Ok. So that being said, I think I hit the scene tonight where, despite our hero’s every effort to be disgruntled, angry, lonely and bitter… she suddenly turns around and without realizing it, catches herself being totally happy,

There I was, in my kitchen, in my bra, shitty jean shorts, high heels still on from work and an apron. Cooking eggplant parmesan (something I have PERFECTED here in Italy)… singing out loud, top of my lungs, music blaring, dancing around my kitchen, sweating PROFUSELY.

And actually, if anyone was watching, if anyone was looking in I would look like a bonafied asshole.

But the thing is, it’s sincere in this moment. Happy, hot, sweating, pleased, drinking cold wine.. looking like Shaq with the amount of sweat on my forehead. I mean COME ON.

And then, all the sudden, all alone I start laughing… and that’s when I realize…

Oh my god, I’m having a Molly Ringwald moment….

Awesome.

It really IS a movie… ummm has anyone seen Loydd Dobbler?