Loving Martha

So in my nasal haze, I have been perusing the internets for happy diversions for my brain. Tonight, I have been obsessed with Martha Stewart's goodbye to Turkey Hill.
I used to watch Martha's show when it first premiered in the early 90's with my grandmother. We just adored the way she hearkened back to another era, namely my grandmother's youth. Whatever people said about Martha, I always thought, "But the things she makes and shows you how to do: so brilliant." Whether or not she was a bitch to people behind-the-scenes ,we could never know, but to show people how to do something authentically, like make a terrarium? I appreciate that. I might never make that terrarium, but I appreciate that Martha is instructing me in case I ever do. (Hey- it might happen).

I think my feelings about Martha are much like Amy Sedaris'feelings about Martha: genuine admiration and affection, but i realize she's waaaaay different from me. And I love her for it.

Sick & Tired

I am so sick. I feel like I want to die. And we all know what Mr. Elton thinks about sore throats: Here.

In other news, I feel like school is really kicking my ass. I haven't found that balance of being able to work on school and leave and work my (2) jobs.

And I totally agree with Dan: Men Suck.


And R.I.P. Avalon


You were good to us all.

This article on Lower Back Tattoos is hilarious. I feel bad for the preggers women, but a little satire on a Thursday never hurt anyone.

So I haven't been posting since way back. School's just been crazy and since I've been single I've been partying it up (August is a blur) and being a big whore. But it's been fun to see my friends, go dancing every week at Avalon with Chris & Danny, and just generally turn off the Lit Crit section of my brain and give in to the part that's only concerned with gossip & drinking.

But now school's begun. And it's kicking my ass. Literary Satire is a great class- we read a lot of Onion articles. And British Writers of the 1920's? Modernism at its very best. My favorite class, however, is History of Furniture & Architecture I Ancient-18th Century. I can't wait to get to the Federal period (whihc apparently will eb the last week of class), but still the Roman baths and Greek temples are fascinating in their own right. Makes me miss Europe a little.


I guess there's not much else to report. This weekend I plan on seeing my friend amy tomorrow after work, getting beers at the 21st Amendment (anyone else want to join?) and Saturday is Diana's birthday. I need a break from Avalon for a least a week, cause GURl, it is too much DRAMA!

The Drunken NUH returns...

So this weekend my oh-so-adorable boyfriend wanted me to meet one of his co-workers and his boyfriend for dinner. This way we would be including a gay couple into our mix (a la Miranda's boss with her and the lesbo, Sydney).
Anyways, I was amenable and the other couple decided to have us over for dinner at their insanely nice Marina Bay condo. I mean, this place was hooked up. Panoramic view of the city, beautiful appliances, bubbling jacuzzi tub, I mean The WORKS. So we go, and the gin flowed like wine. And you know me, I just love a G & T. Or twelve.

Long story short, I drink my body weight, make out with Stephen on the couch and take off my shirt (I remember none of this). So, Stephen's co-worker & his bf are none too pleased, considering that the boyfriend's kids are in the next room. I am out-of-line (if only he had really seen me out of line- mein gott in de himmel!). Anyways, I am totally inappropriate, Stephen's confused because he's never seen me like this and I decide to pull The Classic Andy Thing To Do While Drunk. I took the eff off. Not since the Manray debacle of '03 have I pulled this shizz. I mean I drank like it was Providence, people.

Then, I got lost in Marina Bay (?) and tried to jump a fence to get back to my destination. Mind you, the fence is topped with barbed wire and I decide that I'll just throw my jacket over the b.w. to continue my journey back to the building, and Stephen, who is waiting for me in the lobby, hoping he doesn't have to sleep there since I am not answering my phone. Suffice it to say, I have a scar on my hand that resembles the Stigmata, and I am still thanking the Christ Child that I have a boyfriend.

My god, will I ever learn?

Looking through dead people's houses

So this weekend I took off to go to Vermont and help my mom and her siblings with cleaning out my Gram's house. It was a long two days since I ended up going out boozing on Friday with my boyfriend(!). So I was hungover on Saturday morning and we got to South Royalton at about 11 a.m. and we worked. We basically cleared out my grandmother's whole house. There's very little left in terms of furniture, bric-a-bracs, books, kitchen supplies, and various sundry and assorted items. It was cathartic and quite emotional for all involved, and this is going on year two of the process. The point of this blog entry however was to say how much I like Vermont, and by extention, the country.

I feel as if I'm Samuel Taylor Coelridge when I go to Vermont. It's as if I'm some English gentleman who writes poetry and loves "town" but spends his leisure time in the country. It's so peaceful, so idyllic where my grandmother lives, it's as if I'm on vacation just 3 hours from Boston. I love going antiquing, and all the fun vacation things they have up there, but really I'm happiest when we're on my grandmother's property, walking around outside, checking out the forest and wildlife. I guess I'm just a damn dirty hippie at heart.

But when you stumble upon this on some no-name country road, how can you not be drawn there?