sox tease

forget about 1978...forget that its only may (uhh...basically june) i know that and you know that.
BUT, the sox are playing like its only april!

gigggggle, thanks boys.

how the brother half lives

if anything, i have had an interesting relationship with my brother. i love him dearly, but often times i could substitute another less positive verb in its place.

recently, *don’t tell him* he’s begun to grow on me--not in the eww, gross i-think-that-might-be-a-fungus sorta way. i’ve found myself texting him for his advice and eagerly awaiting his response and really actually listening to what he has to say. although it might seem a silly comparison its like we grew up as puppies. we were constantly fighting, biting and scratching our way to be on the top of the heap, the apple of our parents’ eye. the madness seemed that it would never end. frankly, I’m surprised we survived it. but now, as the years move on i see him more as an equal and most importantly as a pretty rad dude.

no one else i know can:

• recite the whole movie Point Break
• tie his own flies
• teach himself how to play the guitar
• know all the words to every song on the radio—ALL THE TIME
• make a mean gremolatta
• skateboard like a madman
• let me put him in Seventeen Magazine as the "would you date this guy" and audition him for J.Crew
  
• let me set him up
• shrugs off the small stuff
• tie his own bow tie
  
• inspire me by going back to school

taking time off next year after he graduates, he’s gonna be living the dream (well mine at least). whilst his big sis will be knee deep in tag lines and body copy, he’ll be traveling/eating his way across Europe, India, China and Israel with only a backpack and a camera.

next week he celebrates his 26^th birthday, and i just wanted to take a moment to thank him, tell him i love him.

have to admit i got pretty lucky in the little brother department, i could have gotten stuck with me as a sibling!

all growed up

this past weekend i got the chance to share a drink with my brother and two of my favorite friends, anne and lindsey. our adventure took us to a bar, nay saloon, we used to go to so frequently not only does the bartender know our name, so does the wait staff, the busboy, the bouncer, the local gin-soaked drunks, etc.

we’ve often joked that there should be plaques on our chairs by the bar as it’s well-known to most where we like to park it.

without fail, our orders are mixed before we get a chance to sit down. interestingly enough we went there because anne and i had serious cravings for their buffalo chicken salads. these salads should be considered a controlled substance, because as lame as it may look to order a SALAD at a BAR, they’re beyond delicious—they’re tongue numbingly tasty.

I LOVE this place. in a town that's bloated with conspicuous consumption and brimming with fashion conscious drones (just my opinion), this bar has remained an impenetrable force of “chill”. it reminds me of a time before the 100k SUVs were parked in every spot and chain coffee shops took root on every corner. very few things have changed, the floor’s really dirty, the food’s really good and the bartenders are snarky and funny as hell, it's hard not to love that.

the four of us sit and start to reminisce, poking fun at how old we feel in a bar filled with people we probably babysat for at one time or another. 1 jack and coke turns into many more, and we sit back and enjoy the view. there are not many people or places that are the equivalent of “comfort food”, but this weekend i was home in the simplest sense of the word. my guard was down my laughs were loud and my smile wrapped around my face.

i miss my friends in CT, i love them and when i get the chance to visit its such a treat. i return to the city exhausted but somehow refreshed and recharged.

jack

jack is a beautiful smoke blue/gray Siberian, who was found roaming wild in Brooklyn. he has since been rescued from Bay Ridge, neutered, house-trained and has become more docile and friendly. but lest we forget his name is jack. as in JACK THE RIPPER.

let it be said at once, that i've never really been a cat person. i was violently allergic as a child and was always more into a pet that was hopelessly devoted instead of couldn't be bothered.

since we've met, jack and i have had a tempestuous relationship at best. he's vomited at my feet, tripped me, purposely covered my black pants in gray fur and walked all over me while i tried to sleep off a hangover (no idea how he knows, but it's like a 6th sense). i in turn have chased him around the apartment singing like a banshee, put deodorant on his paws, fed him cottage cheese, olives, bologna, capers, thai noodles, carrots and beer (might be where the vomit originated).

but a few months ago, roy went to Israel for two weeks and we were forced to get along. we've gotten to know each other a bit more since then and have learned alot.

i now know:

• jack does not like to be chased
• jack does not like thai noodles--(frankly i was shocked)
• jack prefers water to beer
• jack likes to eat cat nip more then i like to drink beer
• jack will walk on me, when he wants to because he wants to
• jack's fur is attached to his body and does not like to be brushed or detached in any way
• jack's nails are in fact CLAWS and they should not be painted, but feared
• jack is starting to like me

jack now knows:

• whatever he wants to know

last night we watched Legally Blonde together and he sat on the couch behind my shoulder, snuggled up to the back of my neck and proceeded to chew a week old mini carrot like it was a little bone. messy but cute.

he's a cat not a puppy...he's a cat not a puppy.

one day at a time.