Your Girlfriend is Ugly

My worst nightmare.

This past weekend I spent time at our Cape house with my family relaxing, eating great food and doing some major shopping damage. My sister was home for the weekend so it was a nice opportunity to recharge our batteries.

On Saturday evening we went to our favorite restaurant in Osterville called Wimpy's. It's family owned and we've been going there for years. Plus we've become good friends with two of the waitresses Catherine and Tricia.

That particular evening  we were lucky enough to have Catherine as our server. She's Irish and can take a joke. Plus she always makes sure there's a nice big healthy pour in my wine glass.

Three-quarters of the way through the meal and three rounds of drinks in, a family seated a few tables down started to sing. I spotted four children; three girls and a boy. One of the girls was of toddler looking age. She had a pacifier in her mouth and didn't look like she could pee in the bathroom yet. That's a toddler right? Anyway this supposed toddler was having a hissy fit so the family was serenading "The Wheels On The Bus" to her.

This is my worst nightmare come to life. I don't like children. They make me nervous and they are dirty and they are so chatty. Like Jesus! The sky is just blue OK?!

Right in the middle of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" Catherine came over to see how we were doing.

I gestured my head towards the singing family and said to her, "Think they'll sing us a song?"

"Well let's see about that." And off Catherine went...to the table where the singing family was seated. To ask them if they'd sing to us.

You've got to be kidding me.

I heard her say, "That nice lady right there wants to hear a song from you." Catherine was talking to the little boy who had chocolate caked on his face and her finger was aimed right at me.

Oh God.

After some hemming and hawing the mother wrangled her brood and brought them over to where we were sitting.

I was horrified.

"Ok guys. Ya ready???"

I glanced at my phone. It was 8:15. Shouldn't children be in bed by now? Not out singing to strangers?! 

"The Wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round. The Wheels on the bus go round and round. All through town. The windows on the bus go up and down, up and down, up and down. The windows on the bus go up and down all though towwwwwn."

Ok fine it was cute. I decided to give them a standing O "YAAAAAAAAAY! Oh how wonder-"

"The driver on the bus goes sit right down. Sit right down. Sit right down. The driver on the bus..."

"....ful...UGH!!!!"

"....goes sit right down. Aaaaaal throooooooooough tooooooooooooooooooooown."

CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP. "Great job you guys!"

"The mother on the bus shoes shhh shhh shhhh, shhh shhh shhh...."

You've. Got. To. Be. Shitting. Me. Who else is on this Gdamn bus!!!??? If there is a field trip on this bus I'm killing myself with this butter knife.

"....The mother on the bus goes shhh shh shhhh alll through tooooooooown."

I held my breath, pleading to the baby Jesus that there would be no more verses of The Wheels on the Bus. He answered my prayers. But then we had to clap and catch the air kisses given to us by the little toddler child.

If Jack Bauer ever needs to resort to extreme torture to get information out of someone I recommend The Wheels on the Bus.  

Pajama bottom etiquette.

Last night I was driving to Brookline and I rolled up to a stop sign to let some pedestrians cross. Darting across the street was a girl looking to be in her mid-20's wearing UGG slippers, a cropped hoodie and pajama bottoms with rainbows on them.

Why? Why do people think it is OK to wear their pajamas out in public? I posted this as my Facebook status last night and it got quite the response. One person just kept saying "Life is too short to care what people think about you."

Well if you don't mind being thought of as White Trash then OK. You're a better person than I am.

If you have to go outside to pick up a few odds and ends then throw on a pair of jeans, maybe some leggings. Hell even a pair of yoga pants will do the trick. There is no need to be seen traipsing around the supermarket in your Bruins pajama bottoms.

Eye trauma

I'm convinced that the years of mascara wearing has done something horrible to my eyelashes.

I've stated before that I am the girl that wears mascara everywhere. Even if I'm going to the gym or grocery shopping I make sure to at last have a swipe of it on. Why? Because I look scary and sickly without it.

Anyway recently I've been having issues with foreign objects being lodged in my eye balls. Eye lashes are, by definition, there to protect the eye from such debris. However, last Friday I spent about five minutes trying to fish a piece of red string out of my eye balls. That's right, a long red string was swimming around in my left ocular area. When I finally grabbed a hold of the string it was so long that for a second I thought I'd caught a vein and then had visions of my eye popping out and landing on my Blackberry.

Mer.

Two weekends ago I was exfoliating my face with a products who's exfoliating scrubbies are really big and rough. Just how I like it. After I was done with my scrubbing I grabbed a towel and patted my mug dry only to be met with a feeling that gravel was geing poured into my right eye. A piece of the exfoliator had gotten in there and wasn't going anywhere. I actually started to freak out. I submerged my entire face in a sink full of water and opened up my eyes hoping to flush the intruder out. After about forty-five minutes the gravelly feelingfinally went away. Either the exfoliant shrunk to nothing or just admitted defeat and fell out. Either way it was brutal.

Between string, exfoliant and my own long eye lashes it seems that every day I am complaining about something being in my eye! And I hate complainers and whiners so you can imagine how much this eye situation is bugging me out.

As I write this blog I am being harassed by a medium sized blob of black mascara that is doing kart-wheels in my left eye.

Mmmm beefy.

I'm all for odd fragrances. I sometimes wear men's fragrances for myself and I'm a big fan of fragrance layering. But never once have I had the desire to smell like a burger.

Burger King has decided to launch a body spray, Flame. And yeah. It has that flame broiled essence that Burger King prides themselves on.

I'm sorry but isn't The King creepy enough??

GAH! I hate that guy.  

I'm just super curious to know what went down during that round table with the BK marketing team and the fragrance house. I'm guessing it went something like this:

"We really need to come up with a plan to bring people in."

"Yeah. The deliciousness and flam-broildness of our Whoppers just isn't enough anymore."

"People do love that Whopper huh?"

"I guess. I mean I've never tried it. More of a Wendy's guy myself."

"Oh yeah  me too. The frosty...."

"Soooo good!"

"SOOOOOOOOO GOOD! I dip my fries in it-"

"Guys. Can we get back on track?"

"Right. Ok so the Whopper is what people love. People love it so much they probably want to roll around with one."

"They'd probably want to smell like one."

"Ya think?"

"Yeah! Why not! I hear the Whopper is amazing! Why don't we create a body spray that smells like a burger!"

"BRILLIANT! I'm thinking the top notes can be grease, the middle notes a hint of lettuce, onions and tomato and we'll have a nice dry down of the flame broildness that Burger King is so well known for."

"We'll call it.....FLAME."

"Ooooooooooooooh."

I mean. I'm almost sure that's how they came up with this ludicrous idea.

Who wants to smell like beef?! If I leave a restaurant smelling like food, all I want to do is shower and wash my clothes. If this thing moves to ancillaries like body wash and body lotion I'm leaving the country.

A yo yo yoga update.

As you all know I'm into Yoga. I started going in early October and I absolutely love it. It's quite possibly the best thing I've done for myself. Well that and therapy.

I purchased a monthly membership at O2 in South End and I attend the lunch time classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays and the 9:30am class on Saturdays. It's basic with a lot of sun salutations but I sweat my ass off and for me it's a better work out than cardio. I was talking to JSutt about it - she's super happy I'm into Yoga. She didn't think I'd like it. Truthfully I'm shocked I like it myself- and she was telling me about this restorative Yoga class that she attended in Brookline and how amazing it is.

"Lees, It's amazing."

"How amazing is it JSutt?"

"It's just a really good way to end your week. And you sweat. A. LOT."

Never one to shy away from trying something new -except the duck necks! I wouldn't try the duck necks in China- we made a date to attend the Basic restorative yoga class at Baptiste Yogain Brookline this past Sunday.

I'm not going to lie. I was totally intimidated by the people in this class. They were all super hard core looking and none of them seemed to have any sort of basic yoga needs. And no one was really smiley. At O2 everyone smiles at you and is quiet and breathy. This place had some mickey mouse beams holding up the ceiling.

We entered the room and I immediately began to sweat. It was like stepping into a sauna that had gone to plaid and I loved it. People were in their various warm up positions, downward facing dog, upward facing dog, happy baby. I laid on my back and stretched from side to side.

The instructor finally came in.

"Hi I'm Jamie. I'm gonna be your instructa fa the class."

Her Boston accent was totally bumping.

"We're gonna do some wahm up poses and it's gonna be a great class guys."

The class was pretty great. Besides the fact that she didn't shut the fuck up the entire time. While I was trying to get all restorative and zen like with my bad yoga self she was walking around the class talking talk talking. Telling stories about her brother and how he was diagnosed with ADD when he was younger and how he took that ADD and turned it into something that helps him be creative in his work.

Don't care! Trying to thread the needleover here! We can chat about your brother over some bean sprouts and jasmine tea.

Now, I understand yoga is all about release, but what is the deal with the people who have to grunt like their on their third orgasm during a class? This one guy who was on the other side of the room -shirtless and wearing fancy man yoga pants- was grunting like a cave man the entire time. And it didn't matter what pose we were in. We could be lying on our backs in a resting position and out of no where you'd hear:

"OOOOOOOOOOooooooUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAHHH..."

During a downward facing dog he let out a grunt so intense the walls shook. I busted out into a giggle and looked around. No one else was laughing. No one else was looking around to see who was giving birth in the corner. That's fine. Maybe these folks are more mature than I am. But the first time someone farts in a yoga class I'm taking I'll have to leave the room. There is no way I'll be able to keep my composure after an event like that.

Fart-free, we emerged from the class, restored and sweating so much it looked like I peed my pants. Honestly, I can't get over the sweat. I have never in my life sweat that much. And that includes sex, going to the beach during a heat-wave, and the one time I tried to go running.

I'm in love with O2 yoga but I'd give Restorative yoga another whirl. Mainly because I have a free class pass. But I think I might have to get the Instructa Jamie a muzzle. Maybe a cute lululemon one??

The one about my date with a guy possessing a massive foot fetish.

As I mentioned in the blog below, I was out with my lovely friend Jenski Hillski on Friday. We shared some squid and downed some vodka at the fabulous bar at Eastern Standard.Somehow during the course of our evening I began to tell her the story of how I went on a date with a guy who had a foot fetish. I think I blacked out because after a few minutes I looked up and Jen was looking at me with a sort of horrified expression on her face, clutching her vodka and just saying "OOOOH. MYYYY. GOOODDDD."

I thought about it for a moment and then said to the bar, "Wait. Why haven't I bogged about this yet?"

"I don't know. But you need to."

So here we go.

It was the year 2000 and I had just moved back to Boston. I transfered from the Fashion Institute of Technology in Manhattan to Emerson College and was commuting from my parents house into the city for class until I could secure housing. Well, since all of my friends were away having their own college experiences and I was starting at a new school,  I didn't have too much of a social life.

This was back when AOL chat rooms were still popular. (I know what you're thinking). Anyway I found this one room that catered to new people in Boston. Just a friendly chat room where one could get ideas of where to go if you were new to the area. I wasn't new per se, since I grew up going into Boston all the time but I just wanted to meet new people.

I started talking to this one guy over IM. I don't remember if he was new to the area but he seemed normal and by the looks of his picture he was cute. Our IM chats progressed into phone chats and during one particular conversation he asked me how my feet were.

"How my feet are?"

"Yeah. What do your feet look like?"

"Oh. Uuhmm...They are painted pink...and..."

"Did you just get a pedicure?"

"No."

"So are your toe nails a little long?"

"Um...I actually looked at my toe nails...I guess..."

"Mmmmm....."

Ooh you'd think I got a clue. Nope.

At one point he asked me to walk on the hardwood floor and scrape my toes against the wood.

I let his request process in my brain and took a pregnant pause.  It wasn't so much that I was weirded out that he was into feet. I happen to like my feet very much. I just needed more information. "So are you, like, into feet?"

"Yeah. I love women's feet. The look of the arch, the painted toe nails. Even the smell."

I liked Nomar and everyone thought he was ugly so who was I to judge. (That picture still makes me randy btw.).

So we agreed to meet up one night after my class. We met at a sushi place inside of the Copely Mall. I was wearing open toed shoes, per his request. We had some recently acquired fish, talked about some feet and then headed into the movie. We saw Final Destination. I have no idea why I remember that. Maybe it's because Devon Sawa's face was bearing down on me as my footie date grabbed my leg and started to rub his fingers around my toes.

He leaned towards me and whispered, "You have great feet, you know that?"

"Thanks...hehe." The circular motions he was doing on the balls of my feet were starting to tickle!

I didn't mind a little make out session in the movie. I mean shoot, I'm not one to shy away from some theater thumping, but it just caught me so off guard when he grabbed my crossed leg and started to massage my foot. It was also super awkward because of the position I was in. I was leaning to the right as my leg was all the way across my body and in his lap to the left. And naturally since the movie was pretty much empty, the only other couple sitting in the theater were right next to us. 

He basically just made out with my foot through the entire movie. There was no kissing, no mouth on foot action, just him tracing circle patterns on my foot resting in his lap.

I went with the flow. Some part of me felt that I was just being used for my pretty feet but I was fine with it. 

After the movie we went to his car and made out. I'm not going to go into details because my mom reads this but let's just say that I learned a different kind of job that night. Things never did end up progressing with the Foot Fetish Guy. I think that my feet weren't that into it. They were a little shy and not used to being the center of all of that attention.

And I mean really, when you think of all the other fun things you can do with the body, why focus solely on the feet?

Crying in a corner with a mouth full of cavities.

I had a dentist appointment yesterday. In preparation for all dentist appointments I usually brush twice, floss, use anti-cavity mouthwash and don't eat or drink for 3 hours prior to the appointment. Actually this is my daily routine anyway. I realize it sounds slightly over the top but in the past 5 years I have developed a crippling fear of having any cavities filled. 

It's actually kind of embarrassing. 

I've been going to this dentist since I was able to go to the dentist. When I was a kid and had to have my teeth drilled, I'm not saying I welcomed it but I was comforted by the laughy fun gas and just concentrated on being high instead of the drill digging into my molar. Then, a few years ago I had a routine appointment and Doc informed me that I had some decay in between two teeth and they'd need to drill. 

Suddenly I started to have a panic attack. I couldn't breathe and tears poured out of my eyes like a broken faucet. Doc and the dental assistant stared at my mascara stained face in shock. 

"Uh...er....open please." 

I cried through the entire procedure. Which in retrospect probably made the process even worse. 

Ever since then I buy floss in bulk. I've been virtually cavity free since that incident with a few missteps here and there which have been dually accompanied by rivers of tears. And whenever Doc comes to examine my X-rays and tells me that I have some spots to watch I start to well up. Oh, and I did get weepy when he told me I had to get a night guard because I clench my jaw at night resulting in cracked teeth. 

So yesterday I went into the dentist's office all prepared to be in and out in 30 minutes. The woman who cleaned my teeth looked like Magda and apparently hadn't cleaned my teeth personally since 1993. She told me I take good care of my choppers and asked me if I was a regular flosser.

"Uh huh."

Then the X-ray portion of the day came. I was relatively calm. Fifteen minutes went by and after Magda had finished slicing my gums up with her razor floss she came back with the X-rays.

Then she let out a low whistle. "Oh.....oooooofffffff......"

 

I twisted my head around, "What?! What is it?????"

"Lisa. Did you ever have braces?"

"No. My teeth are naturally this straight." It's true. I have amazingly straight teeth and never had a brace on this face. "Why?"

"Well you're developing some decay in between and..."

That was all I needed to hear. I started to breath heavy and sweat. I was like this when Doc came in. It has to be said that Doc looks like the man from the Curious George books

"Hi Lisa. How ah you?"

"Fine."

Then Doc and Magda observed my X-rays and in between low mummers I could here, "T6, 40, 38, 5, no no...4....and 5 I suppose."

Doc came over and sat down next to me. "So you have some cavities. And they are at the point now that we have to fill them. We could wait until your next appointment in 6 months but I'd rather not."

Doc  paused and I took this opportunity to burst into tears.

"Ok. Can you get her a tissue?"

Magda handed me the box and I covered my face with a Kleenex.

"Why does this happen to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?" I wailed.

"I know. It's not the type of news you wanted to hear..."

Sob. Sob. Sob. Wah. Wah. Wah.

Still covering my face with the tissue I continued to cry. "I don't  know how this happens! I brush my teeth. I floss. Do you think I need to buy new floss? I use the anti-cavity mouth wash..."

Blank stares.

"I mean I'm not a big milk drinker. I only really have it when I eat cereal because personally I think milk is gross and do you think I should be eating more apples?

"Uuuh...Ya know. S-sometimes it's just genetic."

Groundbreaking. Really sometimes doctors just have all the answers.

I peaked out from behind my tissue. "So...gulp...are we doing this today?

"Oh no. Nooooooooo no no no. We'll set up two appointments. One for the left side. One for the right side."

I sniffled a thank you to Doc and he slipped out of the door, probably pumped that he avoided any future emotional outbursts.

Magda asked me what I was afraid of. "Is it the needle? You afraid of the Novocain?"

"What?  No. I don't mind needles. I watch my blood get drawn. I actually guide the phlebotomist to the correct vein. No. It's the drilling. The sound. The thought of that little drill pecking away at my teeth."

"Oh I see. Well for your appointments definitely bring an iPod and some headphones to drown out the drill sound."

I left the dentist crestfallen but what am I going to do? Not get them filled? Dentures at 27 aren't exactly a selling point ya know?

PS. Magda did ask me if I wanted to get screened for mouth cancer as it's apparently on the rise 27% (I think it was 27%) from last year. She explained that more and more teenagers are getting the mouth cancer. I found this an odd fact and asked her at what age you should start testing. You know like for a mammogram it's around your 40's.

She looked at me through her dentist glasses and said, "Well you know, it's not longer the smoking that's causing the mouth cancer. Now it's the oral sex."

I wanted to melt into a puddle and slide off of the chair.  

Where's my Whitney sweat rag at?

I enjoy the heat when I am on the beach, in a bathing suit oiled down with Hawaiian Tropic SPF 4 and having the option to cool off in the Atlantic if I start to melt.

I do not enjoy the heat when I have to pimp around. I don't like sweating the second I walk out of my door and having my eye shadow crease and run down to my chin.

Not. Cute.

I attended a trade show at the Javits in NYC today. But first I had to head to the Chinese Consulate in the morning to secure my visa -btdubbs my trip got pushed back one week so I don't leave until the 17th. Guest bloggers anyone?-. Along with my coworker I squished into the consulate and waited for my number to be called. Thirteen seconds into waiting the sweat began to trickle down my back.

Oh boy. I was also wearing dark denim with a light yellow shirt. Horray for back sweat stains!

After dealing with the Chinese woman taking my info and paper work - she actually told me that she couldn't understand me because my Engrish wasn't good?!- I walked from 42nd and 12th to the Javits on 38th and 11th. Not far, but I was drenched by the time I got there.

It's so nasty! I like don't even sweat, I rain! I have my own climate for crying out loud! I didn't want to scare any vendors with my mutant like pit stains so I wore my hoodie until I could feel myself actually drying out. And it has to be said that it's not even hot out. It's sunny but a nice 75 degrees. It's not as if it's 90 with 100% humidity. There's a nice zephyr for crying out loud. Half way through the show the coolness of my shirt touched my back, sending a shiver up my spine and I knew I was in the clear.

It's one thing to pit out when you're at the gym, it is quite another when you're in a professional environment reaming someone out about pricing as a rivulet of sweat trickles from your elbow crease.

The other night, I had my friends from LA staying at my apartment. True to the random nature of New England weather it was humid and perfect for swamp ass. We were sitting at my apartment having over sized hamburgers when I took a napkin and wiped a sweat droplet from my face. Vanessa looked at me and said, "Are you crying?"

Not wanting to tell her that I was in fact perspiring in place, I passed it off as a joke and said, with mock sadness, "I'm just so happy you guys are here!!!" She laughed and I excused myself to go and blot my face.

I'm ready to become a snow bunny.

27 Orgasms. I doubt Katherine Heigl will be starring in this one.

Today was one of those great Boston Sundays. It was warm and sunny out. I had a great brunch with Plus One and a former coworker/mentor at Abe & Louis. Then I had my nails done and got to spend the later part of the afternoon with HLP and John Barleycorn seeing The Strangers (creepy but not scary) and having dinner and drinks on Boylston.

Perfecto!

As I was walking with my former coworker and Plus One from brunch down Newbury we were approaching Dartmouth. I lingered back for a few seconds to admire a painting I noticed. It was of sailboats on the harbor but Jesus! $80 for the unframed?! I mean yeah it was good but let's face it, they were still being sold by a guy who lived out of his van. I fell back in line with the crowd walking down Newbury and I heard two girls behind me talking. I didn't turn around to see them but this is how their conversation went down:

"I mean I've never been one to have you know..multiple.."

Erm...

"Orgasms."

Oh totes...

"Ya. But the last time we had sex I had 27 orgasms. (??!!?!?!?!? WTF?!?!!) Like it was crazy and then he went down on me after he finished (so not my bag). I like couldn't even talk." (Or walk for the next few days I imagine).

First of all, EW and a double scoop of TMI to the second part of her statement. And, um. I'm sorry. Twenty-seven orgasms? That is not possible. No. No no no no no that is not possible. I mean there must come a point during the sex and say your 25th, that you can't tell if it's an orgasm or a stroke. Come on! And her friend like wasn't even fazed. She took the news in stride. I'm sorry but if I was walking down the street with HLP and she told me she had 27 orgasms in one night I'd tell her to shut up and then we'd get coffee.

And that's another thing. I'm all for girl chat. I mean I think every girl is. Hell we've all seen Sex and the City the series AND the movie but like that type of conversation should take place in a bar, with little or no lighting with 150% alcohol. Not on a beautiful Sunday on Newbury Street. That's like saying "Fuck" in Vera Wang.

Now usually when something like this happens (not the 27 orgasms part just someone saying or doing something completely ridiculous) I am a starer. Oh yeah I'll stare you down while you pick your nose and I'll stare you down while I pass you on the highway because you were going 50 in the fast lane. This here I couldn't stare down. First because I was in front of them and staring them down would mean I'd have to turn around and walk backwards and honestly, who walks backwards? And Second I was awkward. Whether or not there was truth to her statement she clearly got some sort of laid last night and that's saying more than me. I did, however cross the street and glance back to get a look at her. She was short, Asian with a good haircut. I think a good purse but I don't remember. Probably weighed 30 pounds soaking wet.

Later when I met up with HLP and John Barleycorn I ran the overheard conversation by the two of them. I wanted to tell them of the myth I'd heard and also wanted validation that I wasn't a complete prude.

"EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!" They both cooed in unison. "That shit is nasty!"

"There is no way that happened!"

"No way!"

"I mean impossible right?"

"It HAS to be..."

The three of us sat there thinking of how impossible it HAD to be. But what if it wasn't...

merrrrrMONDAYmerrrrrrrr

It's so OBVIOUS to hate Monday's but I gotta jump on the bandwagon here folks. I really do. And especially today. It is such a crap stain of a day. I woke up this morning and as I peeled back my new window drapings (white and lacy, so cute) I could see the pigeon gray sky outside basically allowing me to get back into bed.

"KISS 108 THIS IS LISA. WEATHER OUTSIDE IS RAINY WITH A HIGH OF 40 DEGREES."

Oh barf nasty.

After a few swats of the snooze button I finally emerged from my pillowy deliciousness of a bed at 8:17am.

Only nine more hours until I'll be back at my house.

I messaged my boss to let her know I'd be running late due to an inability to function and she responded that it was "OK" since she'd be in New York. Nice. I'll be donning sweat pants today thankyouverymuch.

I arrived at work in my cutest work out chic sweat pants and Nantucket hoodie and prepared to attack my power point presentation that was due on Thursday....but first, a trip to 7-Eleven.

I stocked up on milk, OJ and water for the week. The nice guy at the front counter alerted me to the fact that Poland Spring 1 liter bottles were on sale 2 for $2. Oh HOLLER! I don't know when 7-eleven started having sales but this was fabulous!

Back in my office I prepared to knock out my power point presentation.

"Hey Lisa, it's Christine. So FYI, the presentations have been pushed back one month so we're going to present beginning of June."

This day just might turn out to be the best one yet!

Ugh. I really want to go home.

I stared out the drive through window of my office and thought about my birthday party taking place this weekend. I'll be the big 2-7 on Sunday the 4th and we're going out to celebrate on the 3rd. I decided to go bowling because it's active and I want my friends to be moving and shaking. I feel that when I'm out in a group everyone just sits around and waits for me to say something funny and I can't handle that type of pressure on the day that I entered the world.

I had a thought and called HLP, "Um. I should probably see if there is a game on Saturday night."

"Let me look!"

Our plans were to go to Jillian's in Landsdowne. AKA total and utter shit show when the Red Sox are playing.

"It is a night game at 7:05 and they are playing at home."

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH! I'm not dealing with the 21 year old BU crowds on my birthday. HLP began to look up bowling places in Boston and up popped Milky Way in JP.

Why did I know this name? Oooooh it's the place that JHill was telling me about this. At first when she told me I thought to myself, "Um..JP? It's so faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar..."

But the farther away from downtown the better!

"OMG! LISA OMG! TONIGHT IS EXTREME BINGO!!! AND IT'S FREE AFTER 9PM!!!"

"Fun."

"We should totally go sometime!"

I thought about my plans for this evening: curling up in front of my DVR, ignoring my laundry and eating chocolate seltzer cake with reduced fat chocolate frosting.

Seltzer cake.

Extreme bingo.

Seltzer cake.

Being single and having fun in the city.

Seltzer cake.......

"Do you want to go tonight HLP?"

"Um OK!!"

"But I am eating dinner at my apartment. I have chili that I unfroze with the intention of eating it tonight."

"Oh no problem. I totally understand."

"See you at your apartment at 8."

"Ok!"

And that is how a crap stain day turns into a night with plans!

p.s..I've had the BIGGEST hankering for some Starbursts like all day. I found a rogue orange one in my purse and now I can't fight the urge.