NEWLOVE

It’s pouring in Toronto and my new wool coat is soaking wet. I was in Lululemon today and thought it was odd that such a nice store would smell so bad. Then, as I was paying for my purchase, I realized it was me - I was the one who smelled. When I explained to the cashier that my wet coat smelled like farts so that she wouldn’t think I was running around her store crop dusting, she exclaimed sympathetically and somewhat horrified, “Oh no! Do you want me to get you some Fabreeze?”

I was just standing on Gregg and Ian’s balcony, fifteen floors above where Amsterdam and Broadway meet on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Below me, just south of the 72nd street subway station was a line of cars and cabs. When the light turned green, I heard an awful screaching sound. It sounded like someone slamming on the brakes. When I looked down, I noticed two cabs in the farthest left and farthest right lane burn rubber to get moving. They raced each other as far as I could see. I thought drag racing was only for the souped up Honda Civics in LA. I guess there are more similarities between New Yorkers and Angelenos than meets the eye.

I am debating on whether or not to catch a little shut-eye. I have my driver coming to pick me up at 4am to take me to La Guardia for my Toronto flight. He doesn’t speak any English according to Ixel although when he took me to Newark a couple of weeks ago, he sure didn’t let that stop him from carrying on a conversation with me for the entire 60 minute drive. Is it better to endure him tired and ready for bed or groggy from only 2 hours of sleep? Will I be able to wake up in time if I go to sleep? Will I hear my phone when he calls?

Decisions, decisions.

Brad and I are in Ithaca, NY after a relaxing Thanksgiving with his family in Allentown, PA. We got to do a little yard work in Allentown for Brad’s dad, Chuck. Chuck was cleaning out his gutters a few weeks ago and fell off the ladder and broke his arm. So he asked us if we could finish the job for us. I’m not sure if he just needs the help or if he’s secretly planning for us to suffer the same broken-armed fate.

Last night Brad went out drinking with his best buddy, Jesse. They came home around midnight and were giggle monsters.

“Are you stoned?!”

“No baby, we’re just having a good time. We noticed a McDonald’s bag in the trash and we’re going to go up and wake up Jesse’s dad and give him shit for it.”

“That’s my McDonald’s bag from my trip back from Rochester today.”

“Oh. Well, we might go up and wake up his parents and make them come down and drink with us anyways.”

This morning he didn’t remember any of this.

Oh alcohol.

Tivoli was fun. Emilie and I screamed a lot and Josh was pretty silent on the rides. By 5pm we were completely wiped out and dragged our tired asses up the walking street to a cute restaurant for dinner where we induced intense food comas and dreaded having to muster up the energy to drink more alcohol.

We made it over to Casper’s at the arranged time and began to drink and chat. It was a lot more mellow than I had anticipated. Casper & Dennis drank a bottle of red, Josh drank a bottle of white wine and I drank beer. Then another bottle of white was opened. I drank more beer. Then we all hopped in a cab and went to Sebastopol to visit Pauline. Boy, was she thrilled to watch us walk in her door. She looked at us like we were transporting viles of the ebola virus or something. And I swear we were not drunk - yet. All that changed very shortly.

After forcing champagne down our throats, Casper convinced Josh and I to go to his favorite gay bar where we supposedly stayed for less than an hour. I don’t remember much at that point in the evening because I broke one of my cardinal rules - I did shots. I didn’t volunteer for it either - Casper made us. Then everything is a very brief series of snapshots. I see a flash of doing more shots. I see a flash of some New York City gay boy I chatted with. I remember the high decible level of my voice and cringe. I see a flash of Josh, Casper and I strolling through the main square with French Hotdogs - mmmmmmmmmm. Then I was a little more lucid …until we crossed the lakes and I turned the corner (literally and figuratively.)

I remember having to pee and knew I wouldn’t make it all the way home. So i popped a squat in the street. Picture my cold bum, with poor Josh staring at me like, “Honey, you need help in so many ways right now.”

And then I realized I was losing my balance. I tried to grab onto something, anything to stop the inevitable. Of course, I was unsucessful. So then I’m on the cold cobblestones at 4am with my bum exposed to the world and I’m desperately trying to stop peeing all over myself until I can get back into the squat position. Poor Josh had to help my half-naked self get up and I’m pretty sure he held onto me until I finished peeing. I least I didn’t pee on him - at least I hope I didn’t.

Then I put my pants back on in such a rush that my panties were all bunched up and super uncomfortable but I didn’t care because I was so embarassed and just hoped that moving in fast forward for a few moments would take me far enough away from my moment of humiliation that I could start to forget about it.

When I woke up this morning, I had no panties on. I know I had them on when we got home. But I woke up in my pajamas and no panties. What’s that all about?! I mean, anytime I take off my panties, it’s to shower, pee, or put on a new pair of panties. So I searched around all morning and can’t find my panties. I looked in the trash, out the window, under the couch, in the bookcase, EVERYWHERE. Nothing. I really don’t understand.

Then of course, when we get to my parent’s for dinner, Casper thinks it’s a good idea to tell them that the first thing I said to him when he called me this morning was that I lost my panties. Of course, he then has to tell them the story. And when the grandparents, my parents, Josh, Damien, Pauline and I sit down to dinner, Martin decides it’s a good idea to announce it to the grandparents. Great. Looks like this topic will be brought up on a regular basis for the rest of my life.

Pauline had some friends over last night and we sat around socializing before going out on the town. We left the house at almost 2am!! I’m too old for this shit.

I woke up at noon because we didn’t get home until almost 5am. Apparently, Pauline and her boyfriend came home even later than us. Josh says he saw Pauline and Damien stumble in around 7:30 and that Damien left to go back to the party and returned a few hours later. Wow. Now that is some serious endurance.

Josh and I are meeting up with Emilie to go to Tivoli in a few to brave the crowds, the cold and the crazies. We’re going to ride the rides, get something to eat and then go visit Casper in Frederiksberg. We’ll have some drinks and then go out. I hope he knows how to leave the house before 2am.

I love Copenhagen. It’s gray again today but I swear there was sunshine yesterday.

Josh arrived last night and we went to Sebastopol for the Nouveau Beaujolais and then some. Cut to 5 or 6 large beers later and somehow we ended up at the 7-11 buying chocolate milk, hotdogs, chips and God knows what.

Did I mention the alcohol content of beer here is much higher than in The States?! I swear I’m not just a lightweight.

This weekend Ixel and I went to a classmate’s wedding in Guilford, Connecticut. The bride was beautiful and the church was adorable and I.Love.Connecticut. OMG. I do. Connecticut makes you feel like you’re on Plymouth Rock amongst the settlers with its cute little buildings around The Green in every town. I thought William Smith was just wierd with calling the plush grounds outside the Dean’s building “The Green.” Going to Connecticut made so many things make sense.
Ixel is a little taken aback due to my love for Connecticut. “What are you? Miss Connecticut or something? How do you know so much about Connecticut? Do you research facts online?”

“Why yes, yes I do.”

Anyways, we’re at the reception and are naturally seated next to a handful of other William Smithies at table 8 in a gorgeous hotel in Old Saybrook. I know no one. Seriously. The girl that sat down next to me and the girl next to her looked familiar. But the other two girls at the table I’ve never seen before in my life. Naturally, I’ve never met their husbands.

Ixel and I end up spending most of the evening with those two girls and their husbands while the two single girls that were sitting next to me picked up on guys and danced their butts off. We went outside to the patio and sat under a heat lamp. One of the husbands, Kevin, kept talking about the physics of the heat lamp all night. “How is it that the heat lamp doesn’t melt the tent? I mean, seriously, I know heat dissipates and everything but it’s super hot and only a few feet from the plastic tent and do you know how come it doesn’t melt?”

It was really strange because every five minutes, no matter what we were talking about, he kept bringing up the heat lamp and its strange non-tent melting qualities. We all sat out there until the heat lamp ran out of propane and then Kevin suggested we all go inside. For some reason, Ixel was the only person to get up. As soon as she did, my world turned on its slo-mo view.

She walked past me and Kevin stood up and walked in front of his seven month pregnant wife towards Ixel. He bent over (picture this in slow motion) and lunged towards Ixel. All of a sudden his face is in her ass and his arms were around her knees. It looked like he was about to pick her up. But Oh No He Didn’t! His mouth was on her left butt cheek. What in the name of the Lord is going on?!

Ixel let out a blood curling scream and everyone, (Kevin, his seven month pregnant wife, her best friend and her husband,) started laughing. I stared with my mouth agape. What in the hell is going on?!

As it turns out, Ixel (who does many a strange thing when drunk,) bit Kevin so hard on the ass five years ago at Christine and Nick’s wedding. So hard that Kevin had a huge bruise as a reminder for a week or two. Keep in mind that it was the first time Ixel had ever met him. So ever since that day, he has been plotting his revenge.

All night at Dawn’s wedding when he was chatting us up, it was all part of his ploy to get Ixel to stand up so he could bite her. Everyone at the table knew about it except for me and Ixel. So the whole time he was going on about the stupid heat lamp, it was all a trick to get Ixel to stand up. Meanwhile, I totally missed the part of her life where she was a biting maniac and moved straight into her flashing the tits stage so I had no idea why this man had his teeth in the flesh of my girlfriend’s ass right in front of his seven months pregnant wife.

She now has a huge bruise and I promised the guys I’d get a photo of it to send to them and their wives.

My life is weird.

I’ve been staying with Ixel who has a roommate again after 2 years in this apartment alone. Lizzie, her roommate, is a fellow teacher at PSV (or public school five, as I’ve recently learned.) I am thrilled to know another person from Planeta Crazy. I don’t know why I always assumed Ixel was the only native.

Lizzie and I met about 12 short hours ago. I think I’ve spoken to her once on the phone before. So I really don’t know her at all. One of the first things she tells me is that she writes for a science magazine… that she founded. And then Ixel says it’s her pick-up line and now I’m really confused. Is she trying to pick me up?

The magazine is called Science Snacks. It’s going to have articles related to science and to food. So I said, “What kind of food?”

“Snacks.”

“Like Madame Currie’s Curry Explosion?”

Lizzie is a science teacher and claims to know nothing about science. While most teachers are bummed to have the brats in the Bronx, Lizzie is glad because most of the parents don’t get involved in their children’s educations so they never have to know the limits of Lizzie’s science knowledge. She fears that were she to teach at a fancy private school that the parents would call her out on her knowledge (or lack thereof) of science.

Now I am spending my time trying to butter Lizzie up so I can write for her magazine as well. I’ve always wanted to be published!

It just took me 12 hours to get to NY from LA. I could have gotten to Europe in that time! Note to self - don’t fly through Chicago, ever.

Ixel and I are going to Connecticut today for a friend from college, Dawn’s, wedding. I love CT. It’s so quaint and lovely. I can’t wait to see the fall colors changing on the Guilford green.

Driving home from the salon this morning (I love my new do - thank you Jade!) that new Panic At The Disco song was on the radio. You know the one, “I chimed in with ‘haven’t you people ever heard of closing the God Damned door?!’” Well, actually it plays as, “…the *kshhhk* damned door.”

Why is it that you can say damn, ass and bitch on the radio but not God?

What happened to separation of church and state?