its coming.

"I want you to be our baby-sitter forever!"

As A and I went to go pick up her sister, J, at her school we were talking about the keychain on my keys for their house. A told me to put my name on the keys. I told her that I'm gonna have to return them to her Mom at some point.

"Why?"
"Well, I'm not gonna be your babysitter for very much longer."

She looked at me confused for a minute. As if she hadn't been paying attention at the dinner table as her mother and I discussed how things were winding up for me (and let's be honest, she's 6, she probably wasn't listening. She asked where I was going and I told her I was going to Nantucket for the summer but didn't tell her that I wans't going to come back.

This keeps happening! It keeps being the first good bye, the last dinner, flurries of cell phone calls with promises that we're gonna see each other, "soon. Really Soon." I'm working as hard as I can to keep these lazy promises, knowing that I just will not be able to fit everyone and everything in. Between trying to sublet my stupid room (which, every time I talk to Mel about, one of us ends up choked up. How do you fall in perfect friendship with a roommate you haven't even had for a year?) and trying to write my impossible thesis and do all the rest of my homework, attempting to answer every single random question my parents can come up with about graduation, Nantucket, Chicago and whatever else they feel like grilling me about, working three jobs, and going back and forth between Maryland every other week I just can't figure out how I'm gonna sqeeze in last drinks with everyone (especially because I'm not really drinking this month).

How is it possible that I only have 30 days left?

Well, my hair is doing this delicious wavy thing, its fabulous-D's bithday fiesta which should be full of people who made these 4 years so awesome, and A gave me her left over Oreos, which are still in my bag.

double oh five and a half

There's a man in a tux wandering around my reception area (yes, my, if I'm sitting here for the day, I own it). He's been sitting and standing and just kind of hanging out for at least half an hour.

Mildly attractive and deliciously tall, I wondered if this was perhaps the fates sending me a sign. What if this man was my knight in shining armor?! He was going to whisk me away in his Aston Martin to his manse in the Hamptons and we were gonna live happily ever after...

Knowing that this might be my only shot to not die alone I find some courage in my almost empty bag of chex mix to talk to him. I took a minute to prepare what I was going to say so the risk of sounding like a total asshole would be significantly lowered.

"So, do you always come to work dressed like that?" (Okay, its not very clever, but when delivered with the appropriate amount of flirt, I think is not bad)

"I...uh...they...I was told because they don't know whats going on...I don't know."

...

He sits back down and I put my head in my hands cursing the gods for taunting me like that. He would have zero grasp on the English language...

they just wanna...

So, its been said many times (a few by me) that, "only good girls keep diaries-- bad girls are too busy having fun." While, I do agree with this statement, I think an appropriate corollary would be, "girls who have a lot of crap to do before they graduate in 30 days would rather drink beers than keep a diary." However, I feel like my adoring public has probably been religiously checking this space since my last update and has had a little part of their soul die every time they haven't seen a new update, particularly because my last post was so effin' disgusting. However, I have a brand new blog to document all my fun medical hypochondriatical disgustingness. So, you win.

Anyway, it seems as though my life isn't going to settle down until after I get to Nantucket which happens in mid-June so I figured I'd give a brief recap of all the shennanigans that went down over my spring break.

I desperatly wanted to make this a photo blog but some people have been a little slow about posting their photos on the internets. Its okay, they're all still good people, particularly when I forget they have actual grown up jobs and can't be talking about debauchery on their grown-up jobs servers. I suck. Anyway.

Eventually there will be a spring break photo montage. Right now, After a 2-time zone, 7-city, 12-day, 13-bar break, I leave you with this:

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scratchy scratch

I am itchy.

Really, really, (really) itchy.

I was told with my new medication that I would get dry skin and chapped lips. I was like, "eh. whatevs. gimme the drugs." I was blessed with increadibly smooth skin (thanks Italian genome!) and so have never had to be one of those every-morning mosturizers. Now?! Every 6 hours or so. Or I peel. People, I cannot even begin to discuss how absolutly disgusted I am by my body at this point. And its not just my legs, its my arms, stomach and the part in my hair and my face. I've been experimenting with the various kinds of lotion I already own, but its looking like I'm gonna have to take it up a notch. Does anyone have a really amazing moisturizer?! Preferably one with Alpha Hydroxy Acid, which are a must.

And while we're talking about my disgusting body (because thats a fun topic), my lips. Gross. Gee-ross. I can not be without my Burts Bees for more than 5 minutes or I start to twitch. Egh.

How much are you enjoying reading this blog?!

I'm also itchy. Because in two days I'll finally be home. I'm getting my 48 hour homesickness itch. I've never gotten homesick for Maryland, but everytime I know I'm about to get home I start to miss it, even though 2 or 3 days after I get back there I immediatly want to be back in the city.

Easter Break is shaping up to be increadibly awesome. At some point I'm gonna have to break it to my Mom that she isn't actually going to see me until Saturday or Sunday. There's gonna be a lot of traveling, mostly on completely foreign public transportation but it's going to lead me to my friends--all of whom I have not seen in far too long!

Okay after a delicious 2 hour nap (a thing I don't get nearly enough of anymore), I'm going to class.

Where's my Lifetime movie of the week?

So this past weekend was shaping up to go down in the history books as la-ame. In fact, it was looking so lame that they wouldn't probably give it a footnote in the history books. So, Saturday night I'm sitting watching Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind wondering if I would look as cute as Kate Winslet if I dyed my hair blue (then realizing it would take a face transplant for me to come anywhere near looking as cute as Kate Winslet) and then crying because I'm going to die alone without even a cat to eat my eyeballs because who doesn't go out on Saturday night?!...when Teeny calls. We chat it up and then she invites me to a Mets game on Sunday. Well sure! Anything to break the suckiness of the weekend-- they serve beer at baseball stadiums, and I had never actually been to a major-league game. Even though it was just supposed to be some sort of scrimmage (what do they call those in baseball?) I was stoked.

Long story short: There was no game. It was just watching the Mets have batting practice. The boys we came with were so embarrassed they just got us real liquored up so we wouldn't be hella pissed when we realized we got dragged to Flushing to watch the 3rd string 2nd baseman hit a ball over the fence and have it not count for anything. Yea, so 4 beers, 3 hours of direct sunlight and a few handfuls of peanuts later, we're feeling awesome.

I get ready to pour my drunk ass on the 7 train and sleep all the way into Manhattan. These boys- Phil and Adam along with their sidekick Teeny have other plans and literally throw me into Adam's 'Lanche (the gayest SUV around) and start driving back to Conneticut and the all-boys prep school that the three of them are employeed by.

That's right everyone. I was imbibed with really expensive baseball stadium Budweiser (and two Bud Lights, because aparently I think water is delicious), kidnapped, and taken across state lines, on a Sunday, at 4 in the afternoon.

We promptly got lost in Queens which of course meant we had to stop for those awesome 24 oz kegs of Heiniken which (fyi: family) we will be serving at my graduation party. Those and Rolling Rock mini-ponies (what can I say?! I'm all about packaging).

Once we got to Conneticut, I aparently (I don't remember much):
-Thought it would be cool to let Phil give me a tattoo, which, 2 days and a lot of scrubbing later, still hasn't come off. So I'm working with a poorly drawn moon and stars on my left fore-arm. I did manage to keep my wits about me enough to NOT let him color in my other tattoo.
-Thought it would be funny to scream really loud about how incapacitated we were as Teeny and I walked across campus with the 14 and 15 year old boys staring at their crew coach and the crazy girl attempt to walk in a straight line.
-I tripped over a lawn chair and fell flat on my face (who keeps a chair right infront of a door?!) while walking in Teeny's door, cutting up my hands, right foot and left leg. Did Christine comfort me as I lay on her floor possibly bleeding internally?! Nope, she definatly went to the bathroom. Thanks Christine.
-Fell again. This time into Christine's vaccuum. Turning it on, and leaving it on because I can't figure out how to turn it off.
-Changed the outgoing message on my voicemail...to something along the lines of "My phone doesn't work! Call me here! [insert Christine trying to say her phone number and laughing so hard you can't understand her]"
-Thought it would be an awesome idea to go swimming in the crew-lake.
-Convinced another co-worker of Christine's that I was a complete stranger that they had picked up at the "game" and brought back.
-At the resturant where we ate I managed to drop every piece of silverware. Twice.
-When the fruity drink Adam had ordered for Phil arrived, I took it upon myself to stick my finger into the whipped cream on top and take a dollop for myself before he had even tasted it.

Once we got home from the resturant I became the most anti-social kidnapping victim ever, making everyone shut up so I could watch my stories. Then I became the obnoxious kidnapping victim announcing to Christine that she would be waking up at 5 to drive me to the Metro North station so I could catch the 5:30 train and be in the city in time for my first class.

I made it. By 8 PM last night I was essentially useless, working on about 3 hours of sleep plus a bit of PTSD from the whole ordeal.

So I got home to my UPS package. And it was just a letter. From the company that makes the drug I'm taking. Talk about an effin' Let.Down.

I also find it humerous that those friends of mine who are privilaged enough to be linked from this blog find it necessary to up the ante with their content, while I'm totally statisfied writing this junk.

So lame.

So. It's Friday night and because of some poor planning I am not out enjoying New York City but rather sitting in my pajamas watching Titanic.

You could not judge me any more than I judge myself.

Right now I'm thinking of it as a temporary set-back. It's not even 11, the night is young. I haven't brushed my teeth and Six Feet Under comes on in 7 minutes, the night could turn around at any minute.

Anyway, if I wasn't lame enough at this point, the story gets better. So I am in the middle of a Harriet the Spy level of mystery. Today I arrived home to find a UPS slip saying that they had apparently tried to deliver something to me today.

At first I thought it was for my roommate, for our names are quite similar and those UPS fellas aren't really known for the expert penmanship. But nope, they got all the letters right and in the right order. And so now I'm trying to figure out who the fuck is sending me packages care of UPS.

My birthday? Is in October. There are no major gift giving holidays in the recent past or coming up (Easter, if you ask Cougar, is not a gift giving holiday). I haven't been shopping in real life or on ebay since before Ash Wednesday...I think (--as I go check my recent ebay history and make sure I haven't been sleep-shopping-- which can happen when you go through withdrawl).

Most people in my family who have the heart to send me a care package would do so a)to my post office box and b)via USPS, because UPS sucks.

According to handy UPS internets tracking the package originated in MI, which after a long fight between my roommate and I, we established is Michigan (though, if we're wrong I'd appreciate being told). I don't know anyone in Michigan--I don't think...which means its probably some sort of catalogue.

Seriously?! This is gonna be killing me until Monday when (hopefully) it'll be delivered before I have to leave for class at 9:15. And the fact that I'm so excited pretty much makes me want to kill myself.