Catching Up

I finally took the flattened boxes from my March move-in down to the curb.

I returned my library books (though I didn't pay the fines).

I put my Netflix account on hold and returned the movies I had (only one of which I've actually watched).

I went to Target to buy a flashlight (and ended up buying two when I found the same one I'd purchased at The Sports Authority for less than half the price--yay 90 day return policy!), and replace the bath mat that Kitty Dearest chose to piddle on last night.

I leave for 5 weeks of Camp tomorrow morning and I still need to...

... clean house for my house/cat sitter (no small task, let me tell you!)
... do laundry
... PACK

But...

My dearest wegrit reprimanded me this morning for leaving you all in the lurch for 10 days, and I have no idea how frequently (if at all) I'll be able to blog while at camp, so I thought I'd take a moment before tackling the Herculean tasks outlined above and try to get you all caught up.

With sub-headings.

The Boy
There have been two more dates since last I wrote, the first of which I am not entirely certain counts as a "date," per se, as it consisted predominately of sex. I am pleased to announce that make-out chemistry, for once, translated to naked chemistry. About bloody time.

The second consisted of near disaster as I went to meet him in Park Slope, which took me NEARLY TWO FRAKKIN' HOURS because the R train is, I believe, evil incarnate. I was to call him when I got above ground, which I did, and got his voicemail, several times. I was growing increasingly more and more irritated (flakitude is just about my biggest pet peeve of all time, particularly in masculine form), when he finally appeared from across the street, looking about as harried as I was annoyed, and asked "Did you get my note?"

Er... Note?

Turns out he'd left his phone at work, had been waiting for me outside the station but the whole reason we were in Park Slope was that he was cat sitting for a friend's cat that needed medication so had to leave to take care of the kitty, and therefore bought markers and tape and left a note for me on a mailbox outside the station... which I had missed, because a creepy guy was leaning on said mailbox.

He showed me the note, I laughed, he kissed me a little too intently considering that a couple of girls were standing perhaps a foot from us (gonna have to address the PDA issue--i.e., my complete aversion thereto--sometime in the future, if this thing pans out), and then he bought me dinner.

I also met one of his roommates who, as it turns out, a few years ago ran a fundraiser to help build the dance school that I later worked with in Uganda! Small world!

Oh, and he bought me a book to read while I'm at camp, which was nice.

So, to summarize... I like him, though exactly how much seems to swing like a pendulum at any given time, and I can't figure out if that has anything to do with him, or if it's just my commitment-phobia triggering my flight reflex. So far, other than the forgotten-phone incident, he hasn't put a foot wrong... which seems... creepy. Anyhow, I'm about to take off to Maine for five weeks, so really, there's no use getting myself all worked up about it.

Though I do wonder if I should RSVP to my friend's wedding in September as having a date. Probably not. Counting my chickens and all...

Speaking of which:

Bridal Shower/Bachelorette Festivities
It is now my firm belief that ALL bachelorette parties should take place in a gay bar.

The original plan was to go to Sisters, a lesbian club in Philly (because this wedding has two brides... and no groom), but when we got there we learned that the dance floor was closed on Sundays, so after a few shots and some beer pong with the regulars--and my best friend nearly getting her ass kicked when she asked if the bartender knew how to make a muff diver (the bartender thought she was just being inappropriate)--we made our way down the street to the neighboring gay bar, Woodys, which came complete with a dance floor, DJ, and, er, gay porn being shown on the big screens. I was, it seems, the only one not traumatized by this.

A gay man repeatedly told me I was the most beautiful girl in the club... only to follow up by telling me I looked like his mom. I'm pretty sure he meant that as a compliment, but still...

And cheese steaks at 2am after dancing your ass off for several hours nonstop? Best. Idea. EVER.

So is realizing that you met some of the greatest friends you'll ever have when you were 9-12 years old. I love my girls, and feel incredibly blessed to have such amazing women in my life.

Work
Job still sucks. Hours still suck. Recently learned that they're raping us in the money department even more severely (and potentially illegally) than we were previously aware, and am feeling very ambivalent about potentially coming back in the Fall. If I do, it likely will not be for long.

However... fourth time is the charm, and after I missed him THREE TIMES, everyone's favourite Twilight actor FINALLY came into the restaurant while I was working. I delivered his salad. Yes, he is hot. He was also, however, in a very obvious "please leave me the hell alone" state (hat pulled low, jacket collar up, hunched down in seat) so I suppressed the urge to behave like a slavering fangirl and did just that. So... sorry. No photos.

Miscellaneous
Seeing a woman in a full burka pushing a stroller is a little creepy. It's like the Angel of Death has taken up babysitting to bring in some extra cash.


And that, my darlings... is all I got.

I hope you feel less neglected after this massive update, and as such, I hope you can weather the upcoming semi-hiatus with grace and no ill will. I'll update when I can, should I have anything update-worthy to share, and I hope you all have a lovely summer.

Oh, and I don't even *know* what heights the number in my Google Reader has reached. I am abolishing my self-guilting tendencies and marking all as read when I return in September. Clean slate! Fresh start! Fingers crossed that I can suck a little less on my return.

Lovies!
XOXO
-FP-