beach time.

at the at the at the beach.
there is beach.
there is sand.
there is beach.

peaches. muscadine jam. apple cider jam. blackberry jam. biscuits. lazy.
sleepytime. bathing suit.
at the beach beach.

i like.

things i like:
-seeing old men hug on the street
-convincing myself that i am eating healthily by eating two snack bars, a banana, and a small chocolate covered pretzel instead of a philadelphia soft yum pretzel
-new flip flops
-trying on those weird individual toe compartment running shoes at a store and not buying them

any announcements?

in fourth grade, at my private all-girls school, the teacher would often ask if there were any announcements before our hour and a half long recess began.
usually we were all out the door before he finished his sentence (oh to see that rare bird called recess but once more).
in the depths of december, there was an announcement.
one of my lady classmates (for it was not until the next year that boys were discovered, hiding under rocks and between the toes of trees) raised her hand to remind us to each please remember to bring in chapstick, for she and others were rendered quite uncomfortable (eww) by the sight of their peers' red chapped lips.

we scattered for recess all the same, but for me with lips tightly curled between a gapped-tooth frown.

pride and potatoes.

i've watched the newest pride and prejudice with kiera knightley now 6 times in a matter of months.
something is wrong.
it's not really even that good of an adaptation, or movie for that matter.
it's like eating jane austen cheese curls.
i know it's bad. but i can't stop.

spin you round round.

to make up for my sad lack of a paying internship due to my status as a sad-liberal-arts-double-majoring-college-student, i am making what little money i can at the end of the summer recording peoples' lps into mp3s.
if i'm lucky, i may make more than $3... or at slow my bank account from its unfortunate hemorrhaging of funds to my culinary addictions.

oh for shame strawberries! why to for art thou yet expensive?

yet, with the transferring of records to a computer comes the tragic death of yet another vinyl pancake.
perhaps if they are bound for a melting pot of tar, i can rescue some of the poor burnt outcasts.
for so i've heard one must have a taste for vinyl.

space case.

the hipster party sequel has come and gone.
space party: alien nation.
great success and great drunk.
space babies born by space princesses and aliens, space oddities attacking space tourist bearing vehicles with their space guns, planets careening into other galaxies.

i make damn good jupiter juice, if i may say so myself.

eaters.

things and people i love:
-when people throw chicken bones out the window while they're driving. there is something so decadent about eating fried chicken or buffalo wings while careening down a highway.
-those who patronize wawa right after church, stocking up on hard-boiled egg two packs and extra large blue slushies.

things i don't like:
-coming across the aforementioned chicken bones while walking.
-watching those in their sunday best besplatter their crisp white pants or embroidered blue dresses with hoagie drippings and rogue splurts of melted blue.

done.

i'm done work.
i survived the murderers, prison tapes, prisons, creeps, police, and the intern party.
all in all, i'd say success.

i had a dream...

about a post. but i can't remember it.
apologies.

too much poorple.

i think that the scoop employees at the ice cream shop on walnut street have been drinking too much of that slow purple drink.

they suck.
it's not hard guys: hand, scoop, ice cream. done. that's it.

morning.

i want to make my own granola.
that was one of my few goals for the summer.
i would make my own granola. oats, honey, bran, maybe some nuts, dried fruit, chocolate if i'm feeling adventurous.
but our oven is broken.
so instead i'll drink my coffee.


maybe i'll make some chocolate ice cream instead.

punk rock.

the only time i encounter the punks is at the punk rock flea market.
it's hot and they wear their summer leather jackets with six inch shoulder spikes.
their mohawks graze the ceiling tiles.

i bought some sweet old shit.
and some art.
and drank a bit too much wine.
all in all a success.

baltangmore.

so while visiting a certain friend in a certain city, i found myself left to my own devices in a large urban area for about 6 hours.
i could have seen museums or walked to take in the sites.
but, as you may have anticipated, i instead sunbathed on the rooftop pool and only ventured out of the apartment for coffee and ice cream.

on the way back from my brief foray into unknown urbandom, i was walking on a rare patch of grass, licking an ice cream cone, when a cop car pulls up next to me.
needless to say, i am terrified of cops.
so the cop pulls over, sticks his head out the car window, looks at me, pulls his head back into the car, and drives away.

apparently, i was the most threatening person in the city of baltimore at that moment.

traveleuse.

i traveled the globe in a mere 20 days.
or the united states in a mere 2 weeks.
or perhaps just traversed the mid-atlantic for two weekends between work.

nonetheless, i am two cities the wiser than i was when we last talked.
i am well versed in pittsburghese as yins may now know, as well as in the mating habits of polar bears (thanks pittsburgh zoo!)
baltimore you say? well, 'tis a place of many roof-top pools and sketchy sidewalks, but also of besties and tasty chocolate shops.

and so i relax in philadelphia, my lovely.

suave.

the guy who walks down the street with a cigar and a toothpick in is mouth.

sexyville.

sometimes at work, i call witnesses. oft' times the phone numbers that people give are just wrong. either disconnected, or the wrong number, or non-existent or doughnut shops or chimney sweeps.
i spend a lot of time diligently excavating files and coaxing online databases for correct phone numbers.
yesterday i punched in a number to start call number 37 of the hour. i heard a ring. and then i heard something else. porn music. (bom chicka bom boaw). and then a sultry voice: "welcome to philadelphia's sexiest hotline. you are now entering sexyvillle...."
that's when i shrieked and hung up.
i blush a lot according to the paralegal in my office.

sad.

things that depress me:
-signs advertising for free jewish genetic disease testing
-headaches
-getting full before i want to be full

honk.

i honked my old volvo station wagon more times today than i have in my life.
i don't understand. green means go, right?

inke.

every once in a very long while i get these overwhelming cravings for a tattoo.
it starts as a dull throb and rises to an ache and then becomes frantic when i find that one that i want. but it leaves as quickly as it came once i really think of the horrible ranks of the badly tattooed. i take a deep breath, apply a temporary dinosaur tattoo, and obsess over dinner instead.

lunch.

baguette, st. andre triple cream cheese, steaz mint tea, chocolate chip cookie.

bestfast.

breakfast yum:
-passion fruit and pomegranate icelandic skyr yogurt
-my signature instant coffee concoction
-2 hefty spoonfuls of folgers instant coffee, 1 normal sized spoonful of unsweetened cocoa powder, 1 normal sized spoonful of sugar, hot water, milk, stir until yum

it's official.

i've run out of adult working clothes and worn the tips off of my 'smart black pumps'.
maturity is overrated and expensive.
i better buy some slacks and a pencil skirt.


boo.

training embarrassment.

when i sit on the train, i try not to stare.
it's rude and usually ends with me getting yelled at in spanish.
so i bring distractions. a book. an ipod. a cookie.
when i'm sitting under those nefarious lights in the three person seat, i slide over to let business men and hobos and business women and other forms of riff raff sit next to me.
recently i've been reading that book 'prep'. half a decade behind schedule, i know. but it was 50 cents at a book sale and written by a grad of my collegiate college.
i fold the cover to avoid being judged and end up seated next to a be-suited man reading 'eat, pray, love'.
we both fold the covers to our books. we both see the other's cover peeking out from the pages. we are both embarrassed to read the books we read.

but. there is a guy a few seats down reading 'act like a lady, think like a man'.
so it's all good.

squirt.

things that are funny:
-when the paralegal locks herself in the supply closet to use her breast pump
-when the annoying intern tries really hard to open a locked supply closet door

les robes.

want want want now please.

did you know?

i went to my local library a few days ago. they have come a long way since my years lost in the children's section, chewing on the corners of books about flying elephants and anthropomorphized apple pies. in days of yore, their book selection was most certainly championed above all other forms. the video section consisted almost entirely of barney tapes, several copies of all of the original star wars, and every jane austen adaptation ever made. cds and tapes? james taylor and frank sinatra (no complaints there, but perhaps a lack of diversity?). said collection was fine predating my teens.
but, they have come up in the ranks! new movies, new music... good music.
however, the best discovery was that you can take out up to 100 cds at a time (difficult with a 200 cd collection) and they load onto itunes!
this maybe be cheating the system a wee bit, but if they haven't prevented it yet, i will take advantage.
so, i welcome to my musical library some new talking heads, raconteurs, and the fratellis.
and as you know, i'm prone to bopping along to new music, so the bopping has commenced.

boom crack.

the only being more afraid of thunderstorms than me: my dog.

he just tried to climb into the fireplace out of fear.

uluck.

could there possibly be anything more hilarious in its hipster-osity than a handmade leather u-lock holster from etsy that you can wear on your handcut roadkill armadillo belt which is holding up your acid wash cut-offs while riding around on your neon fixie?
no. the answer is definitely no. absolutely awesome. but no.

job.

this week at summer internship of the collegiate variety take 2 i worked.
a lot.
work worky work work.


now i just need a real job that pays real money, as opposed to sheets of resume paper.
i would even take grocery store coupons at this point.

maybe i can walk someone's pet turtle.

heartburn.

possible causes:
-a delicious soft pretzel with homemade grainy honey mustard
-a scrumptious turkey bacon blt with avocado
-watching bad tv

rank rank goes the cow bell.

things that smell good:
-fresh mint ice cream
-my hair

things that smell bad:
-bags of dehydrated cow manure
-bags of hydrated cow manure

criminal tats.

best tattoos at the criminal justice center:
- a unicorn covering the bearer's entire foot
- a full black and white portrait of michael jackson on a man's calf, the top says "i'm bad" and the bottom reads "remember michael"

career success.

i like when people list their employment as : security officer/beautician.

the snort.

i always miss philadelphia when i'm forced to abandon her for another and far inferior p-town. i miss how tall the buildings are and people watching and the food and the atrocious accents and the heat from the sidewalks and the water ice.
however, i must admit that there is one aspect of this dear city that i can never love. that putrid sour stench that leaks from the stagnant piss puddles between sidewalks. it wrestles my nose and even manages to smell when i breathe through my mouth. it is some sort of mutant hot lemon oil flecked with all that reeks.
so, from now on, i will pace the city with bells on my fingers and plugs in my nose.

pick one.

things i don't like:
-people who drive in the middle of a two lane highway and swerve every time you try to pass them
-when those people drive yellow bugs
-people who drive through stop signs

four wheeler.

might anyone be willing to give me a few lessons in grocery cart etiquette? i seem to need it.

tan.

i'm never even a little bit tan until the end of august. unfortunately.
so! i've discovered that, unlike when i was 7, i am now allowed onto our roof!
this means nude sunbathing.
i'm sort of a weenie though, so it'll probably start with me fully clothed and maybe eventually become rated pg-13. we'll see.
i'll let you know.

clink.

things i like:
-houses with metal trashcans
-showers
-porch awnings

newspapers.

is it just me, or is it a little... unorthodox to receive three packets of miracle whip attached to your newspaper on sunday morning?
i know it's not like there is some rogue condiment man running around hot gluing poor mayonnaise substitutes to the arts section. this is obviously a advertising endeavor by the whip-meisters.
but honestly, i have a lot of trouble getting myself to eat something attached to my newspaper that has been sitting outside since 3 am...

also, the problem with not having my own paper subscription while i'm at home is that i can't ravage the pages for pictures. usually, i run like a rabbit through the pages to find pictures and nibble them out to stick on my white white walls. i almost cut one out today only to realize that my parents most likely enjoy reading the paper without gaping holes in between articles.

honestly, it's not like i really need any more pictures. my poor single next year is going to be plastered to death with all of my wall decorations. i'll probably end up upholstering my mattress with posters and newspaper detritus.
maybe i can offer to decorate the hall's bathroom if i run out of space.

make oop.

the first time i put on real make-up (other than that sparkly goop i used to slush all over my lips) was on the morning of my bat mitzvah. i fancied myself super chic, done up in a sky blue suit with a weenie manicure on my stubbly nails. my mom offered to spruce up my 12 year-old face with a little mascara and pink lip gloss.
since i've actually looked exactly the same since 6th grade (i hit puberty and was done), it makes sense that i still do make-up pretty much the same as my bat mitzvah morning.
short and sweet. a little mascara. that's it. maybe i'll try and stab myself with some eyeliner if i'm feeling adventurous.
recently, on a date with my fellow, i decided to brave eyeshadow (gasp!).
i had to look up how to put it on.
sad. i know.
recently i got an email about the dress code at my crazy adult internship and realized that i'll have to look like a normal not-6th grader at work.
i'ma have to wear more make up. shit.

short.

things i did yesterday:
-painted my short stubby unsightly nails dark purple dark
-scratched my chin
-tackled the dog
-bought dish soap
-watched housewives from all over the country
-nothing
-ate

plan today:
-buy adult clothes for my adult work internship jobby thing
-hang out with my vermontian doppelganger
-probably blow my clothes budget on soft pretzels and honey mustard dipping sauce
-drive and blast not very blasty music out the windows
-watch top chef masters

did you know?

i'm home.
yup.
watching dumb mtv shows on the couch with my dog and computer and eating the tasties out of the fridge.
yum.
i ate linear algebra.
i punched italian.
i zombie bit jane austen.
i elbowed one religion and eye-jabbed the other.

done.

so close.

i can almost taste freedom.
escape from dorm life.
i can wash the college sludge out from between my toes and fingers.
and be squeaky clean to return in the fall.

but first
i have to take my linear algebra final.
i will eat those numbers and digest correct answers.
i will create vector spaces of exactness.
i will win math.

see you on the other side.

customer care.

have you ever eaten at a prêt a manger?
if not, you are not yet complete.
my apologies, but there is a sandwich sized hole in your french fry filled stomach.
until recently, this divinely ordained chain only served its love-salad sandwiches and blood orange juice smoothies to the unappreciative and dentally impaired masses of britain.
recently, they have opened in nyc and chicago.
why? why do they deserve this blessing to their urban streets while philadelphia remains wanting?

so, in my usual attempt to procrastinate productively, i found the "contact us" button on their website and appealed to them to open a store in the fairest of cities. then i felt better and went on to do work, thinking that the end.

but someone wrote back!
a personal email, explaining that while she wasn't in charge of choosing locations, she would be happy to send my suggestion to those who are.
even if she was talking out of her armpit, it still made my ginger-ale infused brain momentarily happy in this sea of academic unpleasantries.

thanks lady.

blargh.

this is me still not writing my paper.