Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Happy Birthday Katie!

This weekend I went yard sale hopping (something I have never done) and I made out like a bandit! I got a whole set of 26 art markers (which usually cost between $3 - $5 each) for $5 total! I also nabbed the babies some twistable crayons for fifty cents that we made good use of last night.

Rargh! Shark Attack!

The running commentary from the babies while we colored was priceless. At the bottom of the shark there is an orange scribble that Ethan called a "Water Hole Gusher" so I drew in some water gushing out. Also, the seaweed is killer "sticky gooey" seaweed, the bubbles are crazy "pinching!" bubbles (don't ask me how) and when Kiah colors she lays across the whole sheet with her face an inch away from the paper and jabber jabber jabbers.

It's wonderful.

If I only had a hammer

And today is Katie C's first day of the last year of her twentieth decade of life! Happy Birthday you old coot! Married, with a house, and a lovely wife and a driveway to rip up with the back end of a hammer (and some moral support from Molly). What better way to spend your time?

We will be celebrating in style (which here means whilst dancing!) for the first time since Ptown amidst all the gay ladies which is something you NEVER do (says the girl who did not show up for even one night of dancing while you were in Ptown) and I am excited!

Today Matthew is bringing his kids to their first day of school so he is going to be late and I am going to be busy.

Tonight I am going back to the Gurnet for the first time all year and I am so excited! Mr. E is going to make us some lobster and I will be bringing the corn on the cob and the white wine and the sheet music. The last time I sat down at Eric's grand piano I was a plucking little newbie who didn't know her middle C from her A minor. Now I am a bona fide piano player!

(Erm... well, sort of. I can play at least 2 songs.)

I! Can't! Wait!

Now on to this day that is going to fly by.

Stay sexy out there.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Chicken & Chips & Cabaret

My doodle from dinner

Dinner with Ellen was nice.

We went to "our place" (which here means "James' Gate") in JP. I had some delicious chicken and chips and tried (I believe for the first time) Irish bangers, which I do not like. The closest thing I can compare them to are hotdogs; small, oily, deep fried hotdogs. Bleargh.

Tonight I am going to be shopping for army costumes with Zsa Zsa. Matt and I have tickets to Amanda Fucking Palmers Caberet a week from today and it is going to be one crazy live-action theater-as-art production. I can't wait!

A quick glance at Wikipedia tells me that "Cabaret is a musical, set in 1931 Berlin as the Nazis are rising to power, it focuses on nightlife at the seedy Kit Kat Klub and revolves around the 19-year-old English cabaret performer Sally Bowles and her relationship with young American writer Cliff Bradshaw.

A sub-plot involves the doomed romance between German boarding house owner Fräulein Schneider and her elderly suitor Herr Schultz, a Jewish fruit vendor. Overseeing the action is the Master of Ceremonies at the Kit Kat Klub which serves as a constant metaphor for the tenuous and threatening state of late Weimar Germany throughout the show."

The plan is to turn the Oberon theater in Harvard Square into the seedy Kit Kat Club. A real time-specific audience-as-performance-members experiment. Oberon seats about 175 people according to AFP's website and knowing the die-hard AFP fans who will likely show up this shit's about to get crazy.

AFP is lining up volunteers and artists to stand outside in the line before the show and tell fortunes or take antique 1930'sesque photos and do magic tricks (I don't know), basically whatever people want to do, in addition to dressing up in historically accurate attire, to help set the magical feeling that this is Germany in the 1930's and we are all there.

In an effort to blend in Matt and I decided we cannot simply walk in off the street wearing our everyday clothes but that we will dress up as Soldiers. German soldiers make more sense but realistically speaking we stand a better chance of getting American soldier costumes at an army/navy store somewhere around here. I remember seeing actual German Soldier hats and coats at the Army/Navy store in PTown but getting myself down there before next Thursday night will be the trick. (If tonight's mission is a failure I will drag Matt with me on Sunday, most likely).

The plan is to hitch up our combat boots and get ready for a good time. I might even put my arm in a sling and pretend I am a wounded soldier. Pictures will follow.

Eek! Enjoy your (it finally stopped raining) Thursday.

Peace out.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Another Friday on Thursay

I am patiently waiting for 4:30 to come.

Then I will pedal my bike up to the dentists' office, hang out with my brother Patrick whose appointment is right before mine and have my chipped front tooth fixed.



And then that is it for me this work week. I had tried to plan a little vacation for this upcoming weekend but I think instead it's going to be a staycation for me. The gays from the big city are vacationing this whole week in Marshfield.

This is funny in itself since Marshfield is a large beach town, we have 5 or more beaches; Rexhame, Fieldston, Green Harbor, Burke's beach and Humarock just to a name a few and these girls end up vacationing not only at my beach but two streets over from my house. This is joyous.

Meg and Jersey McTits are going to come down. We'll have a foursome with Jose, probs. And if you are in the market for a laugh this weekend go check out Kate Beaton's newest stuff. Her family comics positively slay me.

Dad comics: Oranges!
And Mom Comics: Birthday cakes!
And more Mom comics: She's Just Like My Mom!
And a Self-portrait: Beard!


Whatever you get up to this weekend, kids, enjoy it.


Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Happy Birthday Dustin Pedroia

I actually played softball in Fenway Park!
Here's me faking a game-saving catch.

"If you're going to Fenway Park tonight you're hoping to catch a laser show. Pedroia's clutch hitting and smooth defense have been sorely missed since the Red Sox second baseman went to the disabled list on June 25." ~Boston Globe

Tonight I am going to the Red Sox game and I am trying amp myself for it.

The Red Sox (for those of you who don't follow them closely) have stunk this year. They stink to watch, they stink with injuries, they stink with lameness.
We've lost Youk for the season.

Which sucks. He out produces most men in baseball and he's fun to watch. By the end of the game his bald head looks like a slip n' slide. And how can you not smile when you see his weird batting stance? His little butt bobbing up and down in the batters box like a stripper on a pole. Classic!

I'm in love wit'a strippa'

We've lost Ellsbury (and this blog is neither the time nor the place to get into that whole situation. What a motherfucking disappointment he turned out to be this season. I was AT the Jon Lester no-hitter, the same game where he had that magnificent sliding catch in the 4th inning. I love you Jelly. Yours is the only jersey-style shirt I have ever owned. But Boston is (in my die-hard opinion) the best goddamn place on Earth to play baseball. And baseball is a team sport. If you don't want to play as a team and work as a team member, then fine, don't. Go back to Arizona, Jelly; you heartbreaking, home-base stealing, charismatic yet-slightly-androgynous speedster.)

No one will miss him more than me.
Except for every other female fan.

Papelbon can't seem to close a game. Even the easy 'We're up by 2 and are about to sweep this series' type games.

And until tonight we haven't had Dustin Pedroia.

The mini mole man who lives in the dirt. Who knows how he'll play but I look forward to sipping my ice cold beer and watching him do it.

And while we're at it. Mikey Lowell is back. Old man Lowell. Lazarus himself, refusing to die, coming back from the dead. He homered against the Indians on the very first pitch he saw after 15 days on the disabled list. Well done Mikey, you '07 World Series MVP.
And Beltre. What a monster this guy is. Quoting from the Boston Globe:

"If you're on Twitter, do a search for #AdrianBeltreFacts. You won't be disappointed. Beltre's having a terrific season at the plate (.328, 22 HRs, 80 RBIs), and his consistently intense effort and eccentric quirks (don't touch his head) have made him a fan favorite. Some of the best Adrian Beltre facts to hit Twitter: "Adrian Beltre never hits into a fielder's choice. The choice is up to him."; "Scott Boras is an Adrian Beltre client."; And, "Even Chuck Norris is afraid to touch Adrian Beltre's head.""

Change "Chuck Norris to "Jack Bauer" and you have a handy little joke just like the ones Patrick used to tell me.

Don't touch his head!

And of course there will be popcorn.

And hot dogs, perhaps.

And outrageously expensive beers. And Meghan. Oh, thank god for Meghan. None of this would be happening without Meghan.

But it's sad.

This game has been the single most happily anticipated part of my summer. Only I won't get to experience any of it with the one person I had hoped very much to be experiencing it with. I know these things happen but today is going to be hard. Everything will be bittersweet. The popcorn not as delicious, the skyline not as breath-taking, the peanut vendor's throwing precision less impressive; all of it whitewashed.

And for what?

At least mine is the oldest story in the book, right?

I will remind myself, as many times as it takes, that things happen for a reason.

I will immediately follow this thought by cramming my head full of all the things there are to be happy about. That I am at a Red Sox game. In good old Fenway Park. That Ethan woke me up this morning by crank calling Katie. Oh, Katie. Who rekindles my love for Scrabble by playing me Montessori style (which here means 'for no points').

I mean, do you know anyone who starts a Scrabble game like this?

I nearly peed my own self laughing.

And when the words don't fit on the board (which is upside down, by the way, not that either of us noticed) you can just play onto the rug! I have kindled a new candle of love for the game of Scrabble that I have never known before. Do you remember that part in the Handmaid's Tale where she plays elicit midnight Scrabble with the Master of the House and it's all strangely sexual? I do.

Scrabble has always been weird to me. I never played because I always lost. And I am good at words! I'll text twist all day long, so you would think I'd be good at this. But you know what it is? People get too damn competitive about Scrabble. I'm a pacifist when it comes to winning multi-player games. I take no joy from besting my friends. Play me for fun, play me on an upside down board where the words spill onto the rug, and I be yours forever.

But now, it's home for lunch and to drop off Mister Bailey.

I apologize for the spelling/grammatical mistakes I inevitably made, but I'm not going to be re-reading slash editing this post.

Enjoy your Tuesday!


See you tonight!

Monday, August 16, 2010

Frat Party on the Saco River

Avast there ye' mateys!

I went up to Maine this weekend to canoe down the Saco River. It's about 3 hours north of here so it was quite a car ride up and back. We listened to old school dance tracks from the halcyon days at Tribe and sundry other clubs, a bit of Brian Regan's comedy CD (which now skips in some of the funniest places so I'll have to make a new one) and, of course, my latest and greatest Emo boy summer sadness mix.

Among the highlights of this year's trip were swinging off a rope swing into the calm quiet river, trying (and failing!) three times to climb into the canoe from the top of a huge, slippery and submerged rock whereupon (having fallen thrice and realizing my level of sunkissed drunkenness might not be overcome) I decided it was best to just lay supine for awhile, on the rock, legs floating in the water listening to Meghan and Alecia laugh hysterically all around me.

My Jeep stood up to every challenge that it faced. Not only did it get us 400 miles round trip with no emergencies or break-downs, but she 4-Wheeled in soft sand with six fully grown (heavy) people. It carried a shit-ton of firewood up and a shit-ton of wet, smelly gear back. I was able to rescue a dead SUV beacuse if there is one thing Tana does, it is come prepared (laugh all you like) for a moment I was (as my dad would say) the Hero of Hyrule.

Do you like my pink pirate bandanna?

I got them for the whole Jeep team.

Meghan's job was to pick out our canoe. She chose the most broken down, beat-up, ridiculous canoe, complete with life vests that did not float, a missing support beam and duct tape (yes, DUCT TAPE!) plugging up a hole in the trim piece. (Really, Meghan?!)

But we made the best of it.

Dinner on Saturday night was heated up over the flames. At least mine was. I don't know what everyone else did. The heat was so intense I had to shield my face.

Mmm. Chicken sausage.

I had a lovely nap in my new 6 man tent with the best bromancer in the whole world. I gave my liver quite a work out these past few days. Not to mention my shoulders and back (sore stretching commence). I have never been one to kiss and tell but I will say I saw many a nipple this weekend. I love my friends. What happens on Saco stays on Saco! And anyway, what's a few piercings between friends?

We were surrounded on all sides by frat parties. Legit. It turns out this weekend was some big Take Your Frat to Saco weekend. This was by FAR the worst part of the camping trip. Bull horns, and assholes, and loud screeching alarms, boys shouting Fuck you! this and Misogynistic Bullshit! that. Some people in our group slept in their cars. I, having grown up in such a large (and loud) family, had no trouble passing right out. I also was not cold during the night. In fact, I was sweating in my shorts and long sleeve. In the morning I discovered both Jenna and Meg and even Alecia who is normally very warm all reported freezing the night before. Silly kiddos, cuddle with me.

There were two dogs on this trip. One, this black lab collie mix named Tramp who bit my face when I climbed into his truck. This is the universe's way of evening the score since once, a very long time ago, my Bailey-bits bit Beth's face when she leaned in for a kiss. I maintain it was a love-nip or an I'm Scared of You! snip but I wasn't there and I didn't see it. Katie has never forgiven me, though.

But now, we're even.

Look at those fangs!

Overall it was the perfect way to spend a weekend.

My truck now smells like wet shoes and dead people. I will scour it today until it smells again like lemons and sunshine. Tomorrow is the Red Sox game I have been looking forward to all summer, which is bittersweet. I suppose it's fitting that the Sox have done terribly this season? Is there some silver lining in the sky?

Tonight is dinner with Katie C. and the city girls are vacationing in Marshfield all this week, so I've got plenty to keep me busy. It's a good thing too since the mind whirls when left to her own devices.

Oh! And my comic books arrived in the mail!

The timing couldn't be better.

On that note I am off to start reading Planetary and see how The Sword resolves.

Thanks guys for one excellent weekend!


Bobby is the drunk guy
on the end by me who we pseduo adopted
Long story.


by Don Paterson

I love all films that start with rain:
rain, braiding a windowpane
or darkening a hung-out dress
or streaming down her upturned face;

one big thundering downpour
right through the empty script and score
before the act, before the blame,
before the lens pulls through the frame

to where the woman sits alone
beside a silent telephone
or the dress lies ruined on the grass
or the girl walks off the overpass,

and all things flow out from that source
along their fatal watercourse.
However bad or overlong
such a film can do no wrong,

so when his native twang shows through
or when the boom dips into view
or when her speech starts to betray
its adaptation from the play,

I think to when we opened cold
on a starlit gutter, running gold
with the neon drugstore sign
and I'd read into its blazing line:

forget the ink, the milk, the blood—
all was washed clean with the flood
we rose up from the falling waters
the fallen rain's own sons and daughters

and none of this, none of this matters

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature's first gold is green,

Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

-Robert Frost

This is going to be one long winter.

The good news (if you can call it 'good') is that no one is perfect. Even geniuses.

I find this comforting.

For example, no American poet is better known (perhaps) than Mister Robert Frost, who gave us today's headlining poem. He was the inaugural poet for JFK, a four time Pulitzer prize winner who crafted gems like The Road Not Taken, and, the poem that has been taped to my computer speaker for the better part of this summer: Nothing Gold Can Stay.

But did you know he was also, in his youth, occasionally, a mean spirited school yard bully? He decimated his opponents in iambic pentameter. How awful.

"As Robert grew older, his insults became more complex as he used meters in his insults such as iambic, throchaic, spondaic, anapestic, and dactylic. This complexity drove children to tears at the beginning of each school-week at the renewed prospect of becoming immortalized in verse. Frost once waxed eloquent in iambic pentameter about Ella and how much she looked like a “fella.”"

With great power, young Mister Frost, comes great responsibility.

On that note, I'll leave you with some borrowed advice.

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life --it goes on."-Robert Frost

Monday, August 9, 2010

Shark Week, Othello and Matt with a Torch

This picture is rad.

I found it trolling the AFP website this morning and if you don't know her, you should. She's nuts. Like certifiably, amazingly, crazy. And creative. And independent, outspoken and lovely. I am going to see her Cabaret show in Cambridge in the middle of September.

God, September.
How rapidly you doth approach.

This blog post is destined to be a long one as there is much to catch you up on. Firstly, my latest Batman shirt gets a LOT of attention. Two people stopped me last week to comment on it. Both old white guys. Not sure what that (means if anything).

Here it is:

Also, Matt was torching an exhaust pipe off an old engine this Saturday and the hot red coals kept snapping and popping and lighting up his face in a really cool way so I clicked this is phone picture:

In upcoming news, the Saco River trip with the SMO-mo's is this weekend.

You will remember them from the 200 mile race.

I have both this Friday and next Friday off of work which is divine. More time to enjoy this rapidly evaporating summer. We had the strangest weather this Sunday at the beach. Massive black clouds rolled in and sprayed us with cold rain and high winds then, approximately 3 minutes later, rolled out and it was blisteringly hot again. Blue skies and white puffy clouds. It was weird.

In week-old news, Corinne and I nearly won trivia last Tuesday at Carmella's Italian Restaurant in Kingston. In honor of Shark Week we decided to name our team after something "Sharkish."

We waffled between "A Coupla' Chum Buckets" and "Chum bags" before finally landing on my suggestion: "The HAMMER'ed Head-Sharks," on account of the fact we would be drinking (HAMMER'ed) and also our off-the-charts intelligence (Head Sharks). This proved not to be true since we came in lowly 3rd place (although I maintain that the host was sleeping with someone on "Team Dennis" and thereby played favorites).

We had drinks of our own invention - made with Blue Curacao and Fruit Punch Vodka (don't judge me!) to resemble the bright blue ocean, then poured in blood-red Grenadine for the SHARK ATTACK! effect. Get it? There's Blood in the water? Apparently I kept hollering that in the bar whenever we got an answer right. Gooooo Shark Week!

Corinne's shark-shaped silly band stuck nicely onto the side of the glass

Last night was also Shakespeare on the Common - this year's FREE offering is Othello, and it stars that guy from The Wire.

The night was perfect for a little open-air thespianism. Meg brought a growler of "Peachy-Keene" a microbrew from her hometown Keene, New Hampshire. Her and Chloe also brought me a delicious burrito from Anna's for dinner. It was a terrific little surprise. I devoured it!

nom nom nom.

From our seats we had a perfect view of the stage. I even remembered to bring my glasses so I could see properly (the last time I went to one of these I had forgotten them). But about halfway through the performance the trash can in front of us filled up and brimmed over with what looked like pizza boxes thereby blocking a good chunk of our view of the stage for the finale. Also, sitting on the ground for 2 hours REALLY hurts your back. If you go, bring a butt-cushion.

That's all folks!

I'll leave you to imagine 'butt-cushions' in your mind.

See you later this week!

Chloe and Meg doing The Worst Crossword Puzzle EVER

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Oh, August.

The long Sunday afternoon of the summer has begun.

Hello, August.

This month moves too fast, contains both of my parents birthdays and all of the last Best Days at the beach. There is something to do practically every weekend. All of the good lazing about ends in August. So it goes.

I've got my Saco river trip coming up next weekend with the SMO's. I'm excited for that.

I've got movies to watch and burritos from Anna's to eat and much, much too much do.

I'll be back with a proper post in a few days.

In the meantime, go out and have some fun with yourselves!