You’re not even going to believe it, but I had a life this weekend again!
That makes 2 weekends in a row and if this keeps up I’m going to have to change my name from Crissy to Crissy Gone Wild and I’ll have to start ripping my shirt off, showing my thong, and making out with my friends at the slightest provocation.
Because that’s what people with exciting lives do.
I think. I have no idea, really.
Any-who, I don’t know if I ever mentioned that I hang around with boys a lot, but I do.
All of my lady friends live in prohibitively distant parts of the country (ahem Valerie, ahem Rachel), or they have nursing jobs (Kendra) and work fucked up hours, or they’re just not cool enough to come over and drink tequila do scrapbooking projects with me.
Whatever, but because of all this time spent with boys, I’m becoming a course woman.
I bought myself a scoot.
Not really, but don’t I look like I’ve been riding all my life?
And I’ve taken up skateboarding.
And fighting with boys about whose turn it is to use the skateboard.
Pay particular attention to our crappy looking back step area. It’s about to undergo a magical transformation of deckery and flowerishness that will make you weep because you live inside my computer and not on my new deck.
And then on Saturday, we dropped Girlfriend off with my ma and went to Thayer Street.
I love Thayer Street. I once bought 4 hits of acid and a dime bag a really funky necklace from a Rasta guy right in front of Store 24. Thayer is right near the Brown University and RISD campuses and so you get a very interesting mix of people. Basically it’s where rich kids from Brown and RISD art freaks collide. It’s also where the poor hang out spare changing people, but I usually just spit my gum into their cups and shout “get a job asshole!”
They love that.
On the way there, we saw this:
when you see people dressed this way on a 75 degree day, you know you’re getting close to Thayer. Not seen in the picture are the black vinyl pants she was wearing under the cape. I’m sure she smelled fresh as a daisy after wearing that get up on such a warm day.
Parking anywhere near Thayer is a pain and I was very lucky to find a place where I didn’t have to parallel park because I don’t know how to do that because everywhere I go has valet.
Sasha should be safe here for a bit.
(If you can name the movie where the valet comment came from, consider yourself high fived)
We had an awesome lunch outside at Paragon.
This is not lunch but a gratuitous picture of me at lunch.
Here’s my husband and my husband’s lunch.
I had salad and Diet Coke and he had beef and chicken satay with a Harpoon.
After lunch we went shopping at Zu Zu’s Petals and spent $140 on a simple cotton dress.
Because that’s what you do at Zu Zu’s Petals. You buy things because they are pretty and because they accept Visa.
Why in the name of Jesus are the keys always on the bottom of my purse?
They really need to put lights inside purses. Or they should line them in white so you can see in there.
And then Sunday we packed a picnic lunch and went to the park.
I alternated between marching in place
and just looking bitchy.
Daddy and baby and doggie.
And then we walked over to the ice cream place.
Keep eating ice cream and people at the beach will try to drag you back into the ocean, asshole.
I’m going to quit eating. Full stop.
I’m serious. I think I’m behaving quite nicely but the number on the scale keeps climbing, so I must be doing something very wrong somewhere. So in an attempt to end the food and booze jackassery I’m going to report to you Internets, Bridget Jones style, how many calories I consumed, how many cocktails I had and how much exercise I got on the previous day. I expect harsh chastisement for naughty behavior. I know I can count on you.
Anyway, Happy Monday people!
PS: If you’d like to see more pictures of Thayer Street and learn how to make a ghetto see saw using an old splintery board and a propane tank, go visit my husband’s new photo-blog.
- What’s in *your* lunchbox?
- What the Fuck is Wrong with People?
- I wish nematodes would eat Tequila.
- The Mommy Monologues
- Boys are stupid. Throw rocks at them.