Hit me baby one more time

Kerrin is special.
This is why:

She looks hot with a mullet.


She's a fun person to party with.


She brings in the New Year like none other.



She remembers to raise her hand when she has a question.


She shows her affection.


She's goofy,


And she's smart.


And she'll listen to my ideas, even if they're dumb.


Yup, she's a special girl, that Kerrin Nora. She likes Britney Spears to the point where it's sort of weird, she introduced me to peanut butter and pickle sandwiches, she once had two spleens and now she has none, she knows the difference between finance and accounting and she'll tell you why one is cooler than the other, she gets excited about balancing her checkbook, she invited me to her tea party-theme birthday party in second grade, she taught me all of the good football cheers in high school, and if it weren't for her, I might not have passed chemistry, physics, or calculus.

But, Kerrin's EXTRA special today, because it's her birthday!!


HAPPY BIRTHDAY KENORA!!!!

Chicken pot, chicken pot, chicken pot piiiiiiiiie

You know how sometimes a great mood just makes you want to do stuff? I finished one of my classes this morning, which means that I have just two weeks left of my third and final class of the summer. I worked particularly hard for this class (really, I did) and it felt great to be done with it. So I wore my bathing suit to class this morning to celebrate. I wasn't wearing it just because it's comfy...I was going to the beach in the afternoon since I was done, but it was extra nice to get all set to go to the beach as I got ready for class this morning. It was a little embarrassing though when my professor asked if I was wearing my bathing suit.

I went to the beach, and didn't bring any work with me. I threw rocks for half an hour and watched the splashes they made. And I got to start a new book.

I went to Trader Joe's to do some food shopping which I don't usually get to do since it's out of the way, and I picked out lots of fun things that I want to try to make. And then I went home and cooked with tofu for the first time, making stir fry. And I don't even usually like stir-fry

I've been up by 7:30 every day for the last 10 days in a row. I'm so excited to sleep in tomorrow. Finally clean my room. Unpack my suitcase from this weekend. Return 17 picture books from the public library that teach first and second graders about the sense of taste. Figure out whether I waited too long to turn in my forms to get paid for teaching afterschool math this spring. Return some phone calls. Send some emails I've been putting off. I might actually be pleasant to talk to if you see me.

Tomorrow's going to be incredible.

And on that theme:

I'm really not a Mark Bellhorn Basher

...but sometimes I like to jump on that bandwagon just because everyone else looks like they have so much fun making fun of him. I thought he had a decent role last year, although I have to admit lately I find myself cringing when he's up at bat, especially since it seems like he's always up when there are two outs and the bases are loaded.

But this is funny. And with all of the dumb reality shows on lately, I really wouldn't be that surprised to see it on Fox in the new fall lineup this September:

"What about a reality-TV show titled 'I struck out Mark Bellhorn'? You gather random, unsuspecting people from the street to see if they can strike out Bellhorn from a major league mound. As a bonus, anyone who strikes him out gets $10,000 and can then attempt to better him in the field as well for added humiliation. The pilot episode would feature a 90-year-old grandmother with two artificial hips whiffing Bellhorn with 40 mph heaters, followed by Jerry Remy showing up Bellhorn in the field."

I just got back from Vermont and the most incredible wedding ever. Of course I missed most of the fun stuff because I was busy child-wrangling four flower girls for the weekend...but I was able to enjoy the fireworks, sample the ice cream bar, follow bagpipers leading the wedding party (consisting of 14 bridesmaids, 10 groomsmen, and 16 kids under 10 who were ring bearers, flower girls, and junior bridesmaids) through cornfields in the mountains on the walk to the reception, and enjoy a miller lite as I picked some fancy chocolate desert out of a 2 year old's hair. I saw my two little guys that I took care of in Nantucket last summer, which was really weird since the oldest one is now three and a half and not in a body cast and the youngest is two and can actually talk back to you. When I left the island at the end of last summer I was definitely ready to get away and be done with making their bottles and changing their diapers, but when I saw them again this weekend I remembered how much I really liked them. And who wouldn't love these guys dressed up as ring bearers in tan gingham blazers and pink polo shirts?

I apologize, the heat's gotten to my brain

I miss sprinklers. Sure, I'd choose the beach or pool over the sprinker any day, but there's still nothing quite like running around on grass in your bathing suit and jumping through freezing cold spraying water.


This is the best kind, the ones that go up and down and you jump through it like it's a wall

We don't have a sprinker here at our apartment. Our 2 by 2 foot yard is more of a wasteland for weeds and cigarettes. And besides, we have sort of creepy neighbors.

So when I got back tonight from a bike ride (who thought it was a good idea to go for a bike ride when it was still in the 80s at 8 o'clock, nevermind riding through North Cambridge & Fresh Pond when it started to get dark & I didn't have my gun on me), I thought long and hard about whether it would be worth the "What the fuck did you do" expressions from Helen & Kate when they walked into the apartment and saw me prancing around and splashing in the living room, using a makeshift sprinkler adapted from the sink sprayer that I designed in my head in class this morning.

In the end, I worried that I'd be banned from pima time forever and ever and that Helen might not bring back anymore English chocolate (except the orange segs--I never want to see those again). My sprinkler-in-the-living-room dreams were smashed, and I was still feeling in need of a good way to cool off.

And then I came up with the brilliant idea of transforming the shower into my own sprinker.

It's time to blog again

If you've ever known a Jewish mother, you know that their biggest goal in life is to have their kids marry other jewish people. My mom is no different, although I think her goals shift slightly during the summer months when she attempts to spend at least five hours outside at the pool every day. Anyway, my mom decided this weekend that I should date Theo Epstein. She reasoned that he's a decent age, he's established a good career for himself, and he grew up as a nice Jewish boy in quaint old Brookline. Oh and he's hot, but that was actually what I added to the conversation (except I don't describe people as "hot" with my parents...I think i said cute). She suggested I write him a letter, so I'm looking for help with a good intro to the letter, you know, to really catch his eye.

"Hey Stace, after the game let's stay in and cook lasagna tonight"

Chocolaty Goodness

I'm watching the Sox game as I write a paper (which some might argue is not the most efficient way to get work done--nor is blogging at the same time ideal in producing my standard high quality work in a short period of time). There's this player on the Indians named Coco Crisp. I had the game on the other night as I folded laundry, and I could've sworn I heard the announcer talk about Coco Crisp's at-bat, and then had to ask myself whether I was taking crazy pills again. But no, sure enough, this guy actually goes by the name Coco Crisp.


I was going to put up side by side images of the cereal and the man, but somebody already did it for me

I'm not sure what the deal is...whether it's the name given to him by his parents with a good sense of humor(hey, I happen to know a Mr. Peter The Sage), or if he made his first million and then had the very difficult decision of renaming himself either Coco Crisp or Count Chocula. Personally, I think being a Count would be a lot cooler.

You what else is funny? Well, perhaps I'll just show you a picture:



And more is always better:



This is a coat that Caitlin's mom owned in the 80s, and I think she actually even wore it in public. Now, Caitlin just breaks it out when someone looks sad, or at important events, like here at her graduation party last month. It's hard to tell in the picture, but aside from the zebra print lining and beautiful star pattern, the jacket features tassels on the sleeves and in the center of the back, and has sleeves that are baggier than a sleeve should ever be on the upper arm, gradually tapering towards the wrist, creating a sort of "wing" effect.

What's the point of this post? I don't really know, but I do feel sort of bad for letting you waste the last 3 minutes of your life.

Compliments to Miss Whitney for the gorgeous pictures of a not so photogenic coat. I'm going to find some chocolate cereal.

Sizzling

I enjoy the weather that most people despise. I see "hot and humid" on the weather forecast, and leap for joy. So the past week of temps around 90 were lots of fun for me in general. I got a fan, set it by my bed on medium, and slept with my blanket and down comforter each night. My air conditioner sat wrapped up in its box on my floor. Air conditioners are for babies. But just so you don't think I'm crazy, I did switch to wearing shorts to bed this week rather than pants as usual.

Then today I woke up, put on another pair of shorts & a tank top, and headed out the door for the day. Why then, and I sitting now in jeans, a short sleeve shirt, a long sleeved shirt, and a fleece? Where is my hazy hot and humid?

I finished up my last music class with Henry this week. I think it's too early to tell how much Henry has gained from this experience. Perhaps once he starts walking, I'll ask him to dance and see how his rhythm is. But I know I had a blast every Monday morning, hopping around the room in a circle singing "Jumpin' Josie." In fact, because Monday was the last class, the teacher asked each of the kids their favorite songs so we could do those. But since Henry can't talk, I was supposed to tell her his favorites, and obviously I just told the teacher my own personal faves...I just needed to sing and dance to "Jumpin' Josie" one last time. That song is FUN.

And now that I don't have an outlet in which to sing badly and run around the room each week, my poor roommates will have to suffer so much more.

Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go right now

I hope I'm still alive when the scientists come up with a pill to take so you don't have to go to the bathroom. It's not out of a lack of respect for bladder infections...I just hate the hassle. And it seems like in the year 2005, especially in the United States, where we have machines that do everything for us so we can be more efficient than we'd ever want to be, there should be a way so we don't have to interrupt our busy lives to find the nearest bathroom, deal with buttons and zippers, washing hands, etc. etc. etc.

That's all. Where's the party at? I'm bored.


Weird, I saw this same exact scene at the Porter T station this afternoon

Hey, we're those creepy old alumni

I'm actually so bored I don't have any motivation to do anything to alleviate the boredom. I'm not sure how I spent the time in between babysitting and getting ready for bed. But I can tell you:
-I didn't clean the bathroom
-I didn't return library books
-I didn't return clothes at the mall
-I didn't walk a block down to CVS to buy some stuff (not plan B)
-I didn't get a parking permit
-I didn't make a yummy & exciting new meal
-I didn't mail the bills that were due
-I didn't take care of the imminent avalanche in my closet
-Or the growing mountain on and underneath my desk.
-I didn't do 9 other things that were on my dry erase board

God I suck.

Just one more week and I then can complain that I hate having to be in class.

This weekend was our grand return to Union. And my first ReUnion as an alum did not disappoint...the highlight was possibly finally getting to ride the golf cart across campus, which are reserved just for visiting alumni. Easily worth the 35 grand times 4. But I also got beer at a bar that only cost $2, lied out in the sun in Jackson's gardens, played beirut, got drunk before 5:30, and stayed up until 4:30. I was also reminded of how preppy people can actually be at Union. Somehow seeing the guy that sits at the CVS a block away from my apartment, playing buckets like drums, and yelling "Four pennies and a nickel? Two dimes and a penny?" tends to make you forget about pink popped-collared shirts. Friends made bets as to how many people my roommate would hook up with, and I got drunk at Gepetto's and announced to people I barely knew, and hadn't seen in a year, that my roommate had to get Plan B because of our broker. Then I showed them pictures from my phone. I drove by Tam's Laundy and Tanning, and realized there were so many things that I never fully took advantage of during my time in Schenectady. I got a birthday cake that Losure, Heekin, and Josh frosted with their own recipe that involved lots of grape Kool-Aid. I saw people I hadn't thought about in a year, and will probably never see again. I watched the alumni weekend fireworks for probably the last time in awhile. And I saw most of the people that made my time at Union a blast...some I've seen nearly every week since I left, and others I haven't seen since graduation.

I miss Union...I miss the campus, the people (well, some), the cheap beer, the class schedule that allowed for naps and frisbee-playing, and the constant activities that made it feel like big-kid camp. I don't know whether the nostalgia is more because I know I'll never have that same experience again, or because I ate 6 rolls of Smarties and some Sour Patch Kids, and my sugar high has now hit rock bottom, resulting in a general lethargic feeling. I have a feel it's a combination of both. I must go pass out.


The good times. Back when we were young. Forties (and probably a wine cooler) by the flag pole

SKANKFEST

Until Molly reminded me, I totally forgot that this is the month of Skankfest, appropriately named by Molly last year because my birthday fell around Union's springfest weekend, and since Molly calls me Skanky Gross, it was an obvious name for the week between springfest and my birthday. And then it sort of became the whole month of May, which was fine with me because I liked having my own month. Molly even made me a really cool fluourescent t-shirt that said Skankfest 2004. But then my washing machine ate off all the letters. So anyway, Happy Skankfest to you and yours, and thanks for reminding me of ths joyous month Molly!

I've been out of commission for the past week and a half since it was the end of the semester, and god forbid I do work more than 36 hours before it's due. But I am free for a few weeks until my summer classes begin, with not much to do besides hang out with the 2nd graders and stroll around Beacon Hill with Henry. Now I'm seeing what I missed with the Union trimesters...this is sort of nice being out the second week of June. I have a slight suspicion I'll be bored by Monday afternoon.

In honor of my bedbug-loving roommate, I offer you this. Mmmmmm.


I bet they taste good covered in chocolate.

I am off Logan to head to the wonderful city of Cleveland. Enjoy Skankfest AND Friday the 13th.

05-05-05

I've been waiting for this day since 04-04-04. I just wish I had more stuff to write today's date on.

My question to you, on this very special day, is--what is wrong with people? I have Maury on (I swear I'm not watching, I needed some background noise on while I do work), and the title of this episode is, "Is my prom date my baby's father?" Enough said.
Example 2: Earlier I saw a commercial for one of those tv malpractice lawyers...who thinks it's actually a good idea to get your lawyer by calling 1-800-CALLJIM?

And example number 3, yesterday I was walking down the sidewalk in Porter Square, and a little kid hit me as I walked by him.
Just stuck his arm out and slapped my leg. And not a baby in a stroller either, a walking, talking 4 year old. But then, his dad didn't even do anything..just said "hey" to his kid....not even with a tone like, "You don't hit random people on the street."

In other news, my feet are almost fully recovered from my 20 mile stroll through Boston, Brookline, Newton, Watertown, and Cambridge this past Sunday. The steady rain through the first 3 1/2 hours of it only added to the enjoyment, but overall it wasn't too bad at all. Thanks to Kristen for the pictures!


looking hot in the rain at the halfway point..don't let the shorts fool you though, it was freezing


Kristen smells the finish line...in 5 more miles


...and I did the whole thing without beer, see?

At first I was afraid, I was petrified

I have returned...and with pictures. My only regret is that the pictures can't express the full karaoke experience. There's something special that happens when music is playing and the words start scrolling across a TV screen.


can you feel the love?

But belting out "I Will Survive" and "YMCA" wasn't the only perk of the night. Oh no, we had a belated birthday celebration for Mr. Heekin and Susan.

Just like every birthday since he was 7, before he blows out his candles Losure makes the wish that this is the year that the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles come to his door and ask him to be the fifth member

The really really cool thing about having two gigantic cakes was that there isn't too much that drunk people like better than cake, besides french fries of course.
It looks pretty now...(sort of)

But a few hours later, after some flip cup, the cake looked good enough to dig right in with hands.


Gillian tries to recall from memory the bus schedule back to Schenectady


And so goes another party at 9 Acadia.

Walk for Hunger

This weekend I'm taking part in Project Bread's Walk for Hunger. I'll be walking 20 miles through Boston, Cambridge, Brookline, and Newton to raise money for families in Massachusetts. And I'm using my blog as a plug for it, letting you know that you can sponsor me and make a donation up until the end of this week. Email me at Stacy518@gmail.com if you so desire...


Better yet, you should walk too! They even give you snacks midway through!

That is all for now...potential blackmail photos of this weekend's karaoke to follow.

Bound for the cement

Inspired by the usual graphic creativity over at sexyLosure dot com, I decided to tell a story in tonight's blog using microsoft paintbrush. The drawings help paint a better picture that I could do with words alone.

It all started last night when I decided to ride my bike to class...which meant that I'd be riding it home when class got out somewhere around 10. As I turned onto Acadia Park on my return trip home, I saw that a bunch of people were out on their porch in the apartment next door to mine:


Nice night for a bike ride

Seeing all the guys out there, I decided I wanted to look cool as I hopped off my bike. Why this seemed like a good idea (and how can you even look cool as you get off your bike)..I have no clue. Anyway, I tried to get off my bike too early, while I was still rolling down the sidewalk, and the next thing I know, my foot gets stuck trying to get over the bike and I'm lying on my side on the pavement. And all of the people on the porch just stopped talking.


It's hard to look cool when you fall off your bike.

Oh, and here's a picture of what I think might be the grossest creature on earth--a baby octopus.
If my kid comes out with a see-through head, I don't think I should have to keep it

Picky Picky

As I soaked up another episode of "Extreme Makeover Home Edition: How'd They Do That?" I got to watch my roommate once again run to get her nail clippers and cut off "extra" skin. Extra skin is skin that she thinks shouldn't be there. I say, why bother cutting it off? She just replies, "Why not?" The best part though is when she lines up on her leg the chunks of skin that she's removed from the latest procedure. As I suspected, this isn't normal. This website says:

-Individuals with CSP may pick at normal skin variations such as freckles and moles, at actual pre-existing scabs, sores or acne blemishes, or at imagined skin defects that nobody else can observe.

Check

-Skin-picking may be followed by a feeling of relief or pleasure.

Check

-Individuals with CSP often attempt to camouflage the damage caused to their skin by using make-up or wearing clothes to cover the subsequent marks and scars.

She wears sweatpants even at the beach---Check

It's grosssssss.

After 4 straight years of being in New York for Patriot's Day, I was finally back in the state that celebrates it today. Spent the day in Kenmore Square, with a couple of beers on Lansdowne St. before heading out to Comm Ave for the marathon. The only disappointment was that I was without my traditional Dairy Queen Blizzard as I watched the runners painfully pounding pavement (alliteration!! yeah!) for over 3 consecutive hours. And though it makes me feel so pathetic since I struggled this morning to make it through 2 and 1/2 miles, I always am so amazed that ANYONE is capable of running without stopping for 26.2 miles.

Let alone people who are 30, 40, even 50 or more years older than me...It's pretty amazing.

Besides my 4 year stay at Union, I've been to almost every marathon since I was 7, and I look forward to certain things every year. Besides getting a cookie dough blizzard, I like holding my hand out to slap the hands of some of the runners (just the ones in the big pack...the Kenyans tend to run by without stopping to slap my hand). Mmm sweaty germs. It's also a great feeling to cheer for someone as they run by, and see them give a smile to the crowd. Easily though the highlight is seeing the Hoyts. This year was the 24th year that the father (who is in his 60s now) pushes his quadriplegic son (who's now in his 40s) in a wheelchair.

The whole entire way. It's really incredible.

This is a true story of 7 strangers

What can $400 buy you these days?

Well, a "semester" of baby music classes in Beacon Hill, for one thing. Today was my first day of taking Henry to his once a week music class, where I sang along to a song about squirrels while I pretended I was eating nuts, and a teacher named LuLu bounced around with a smile bigger than the Cinderella at a parade at Disney world, and 8 month old Henry cried because my squirrel sounds scared him.


Later LuLu made the mommies and nannies stand in the middle of the circle and pretend we were church bells

The cool thing is that the music class is inside the old fire station in Beacon Hill that the cast of Real World Boston lived in a few years ago. It's now a community center. I looked hard, but I didn't see any leftover beer cans from the drunken season.


But the picture fun doesn't end there. Last week I won a pair of tickets to the "red carpet arrivals" at Fenway for the premiere of Fever Pitch. I saw Jimmy Fallon, Drew Barrymore, a bunch of the Sox like Damon who didn't stop loving himself for 2 hours, Varitek, and Trot, plus Tom Brady and some other Pats, and others. But I only got my picture taken with one celebrity:

Wally the Green Monster kissed me after this picture was taken

Monday Monday Monday

In honor of yesterday being opening day for the sox, I give you this link, with pictures of how Johnny Damon spent the offseason. He may not be the most eloquent speaker, but he sure does have pretty hair and can party better than most 22 year olds I know.


I have a lot to do in the next month and a half, which makes me sad because I like doing nothing. This weekend I spent a little too much time playing what could be considered inappropriate drinking games about the Pope, Frank Perdue, and Terri Schiavo, though I like to think that we played them more as a tribute to their lasting legacy. No? Now though I have lots of work to catch up on, and not enough sleep to do it on, which makes me do dumb stuff like forget to get off the T at porter square and keep going until I realize I'm at Davis Square.

My new box of Cheerios had a prize in it this morning though, which kind of makes up for it...but I still don't understand why food needs "prizes" to make them enjoyable.


"Instead of number 16, cluck like a chicken and flap your wings in the direction of the next person"

More fun than the SATs

I have 4 kinds of silly putty, including one with glitter and one that glows in the dark. I have a miniature etch-a-sketch. A month ago I rollerbladed around my apartment. In short, I always suspected that I'm not actually 22. The online quiz people agree. I'm 18.

13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world.

What Age Do You Act?


And then I clicked around some more, because I figured if I'm 18, I might as well do all those dumb quizzes I liked to do then. I found out stuff like

You Belong in 1974

If you scored... 1970 - 1979: Bold and brash, you take life by the horns. Whether you're partying or protesting, you give it your all! Your Brain is 66.67% Female, 33.33% Male Your brain leans female You think with your heart, not your head Sweet and considerate, you are a giver But you're tough enough not to let anyone take advantage of you!

and the most inappropriate,

You are

What Rejected Crayon Are You?

What does it all mean? I don't know. Go learn more about yourself.

Molly's 24!

Before I met Molly, I was afraid of her. I heard rumors she was scary. In fact, a friend told me a story about her friend's pug named Molly that was missing an eye because her dad hit it with a golf club. So even before I really knew her, I called her Mollz the one eyed pug. But the rumors about her being mean were completely untrue--Molly is one of the least scary people I know, and easily one of the coolest and funniest as well. Molly taught me many things:
1) There's no shame in drinking wine out of a box.
2) It's even better if you can finish off the box of wine.
3) The perfect way to cheer up during a snowy January day is by slathering up with sunscreen to remind you of summer.
4) It's possible to stay in bed for 4 consecutive days.
5) Don't be embarrassed if you drink from a sippy cup. Smart drinkers use sippy cups because red wine is hard to wash out of the carpet.
6) If a guy goes down on you, don't tell Kate right away. It's more fun to tell her after she makes out with him.
7) College juniors can also enjoy turning their bed into a permanent tent.
8) You should always find an interesting "prop" to bring along when you go out, like a boa or a funny hat.
9) If you want an interesting night out, just tell strangers in a bar that you're looking for "an adventure."

Lots of my best memories of college were living on the third floor of Geisel during sophomore year. Molly helped make it fun and unpredictable. It was always a pleasant surprise to walk out of my room to go to the bathroom at 3am, and see Molly curled up in some weird position on the hallway floor, laughing at herself and just starting her Greek homework. Exhibit A:

Don't ask, I don't know

Happy Birthday Molly!