Day 221: Red Wayfarers
[Project 365]
I don’t get to see my oldest friend Tamara nearly often enough, but it is so so awesome to catch up with her when I can. Bonus: This time she brought along her boyfriend, who had to overcome a pretty stiff North-to-South language barrier and put up with people at gas stations calling him “Jesus.” My goal is to get up to Buffalo to visit before the year is out. [Project 365]
My boss had her baby! So we sent her some flowers. The kid emerged a giant: Nine pounds, fifteen ounces. THAT’S LIKE THIS BIG. Can’t wait to meet him. In the meantime, I am tasked with keeping my department running. Until October! Last week was a clusterfuck because of scheduling mistakes (mine, naturally) and vacationing co-workers and the feeling that I had tossed myself into some kind of boiling vat of stresswater. But that was…
Margaritas in celebration of mortality! I think A would delight in the darkness of that statement. [Project 365
Went to a party. Warmed a house. Met a dog with a British accent who couldn’t get enough weiners. Ahhh, weekends. [Project 365]
My pal D alerted me to the $5 Friday midnight matinees going on this month in the basement over at Power House, which suits this night owl just fine. We saw "Teeth," which I liked way more than I expected to. Next week: "Fido." Vagina dentata AND zombies? It’s like they’re showing these flicks just for me! [Project 365]
See this photo? I titled it “neck veins” for obvious reasons. Someone called “veinale” on Flickr favorited it tonight. I clicked through to veinale’s profile and found this (probably NSFW unless you work at a nipple clamp factory). (One of veinale’s contacts is nudedude840, whose photostream is full of women’s necks, stressed so the veins pop. Bokay.) Anyhoo, many of veinale’s photos advertise a site called veinywoman.com. I’m not hyperlinking it because oh, for fuck’s…
Monday evening, Stephanie and I got all itchy for a roadtrip so we headed east and slightly north and ended up on the sleepy streets of Brownsville, which, for all we could tell, had been emptied out by the zombie apocalypse. Oh, except for RJ’s Hibachi, a greasy spoon that gleefully abuses the “hibachi” part of its name by completely ignoring it. It was hoppin’. We had some time to kill before the sun sat…
Every damn photo I took Sunday night was blurry so I must point you in the direction of the professional photographs taken by one Brandon Dill, the Mid-South’s premier freelance photographer who manages to make people look pretty even while they are sweaty, drunken messes. [Project 365
A person can do worse than a Saturday afternoon spent swimming and lounging and eating turkey and goat cheese and heirloom tomato sandwiches with her friends. Much worse. [Project 365]
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