Well, it's been a few weeks. Since my last entry, I've gotten a little older, a little wiser, a little busy. So I'm making a list, because we all like lists, right? For inexplicable reasons to you and me, these are not in chronological order.
1. I celebrated the beginning of my 23rd year in style. Brunch at Park Luncheonette, perusing misshapen baked goods at the farmers' market, throwing a highly unattractive and ill-advised tantrum about the magical perfect birthday outfit and my newly shorn hair. We made it through Central Park and a temporary thunderstorm to see Apples in Stereo and Television, traveled to Williamsburg to meet Rebecca for dinner at Moto (my recently declared favorite eatery, with a real speakeasy feel), an experience highlighted by cheese fondue, a big-as-your-head bowl of mussels, bittersweet chocolate pudding with a candle, and a live balkan brass band. Met up with others for drinks in Greenpoint, which ended in a 2 a.m. drunken ping pong battle. Needless to say, my birthday was the bomb.
2. This past Saturday, after a wasted morning and four subway transfers, I arrived on Coney Island. It was a momentous occasion on many levels (well, two): it was my first visit, and it was the annual Mermaid Day Parade. A full day of mermaid- and pirate-inspired chaos, culminating in a three-hour (it might have been longer, but I got impatient and hot and withdrew early) freakshow parade of sorts. Entertaining, naturally, but one can only bear so many costumed mermaids, drawn-out minutes of jammed parade traffic, and shrieking, sunburned babies born from shrieking, sunburned parents. Sat on the beach, rode the Wonder Wheel, ate gigantic sausages, people-watched, flexed my impressive bumper cars skills (three times, for good measure). Around 9 we stumbled home, feeling pink, stuffed and exhausted, but happy.
3. I'm jumping a plane to Michigan in six days. There will be a Pentwater excursion (lake michigan! boats! trees! no garbage smells and incessant car honks!), a seven-year-old's birthday celebration, a big fat Greek wedding in Motor City and other unplanned excitement.
4. My lease is up in a month, and because Astoria has proven to be safe, clean and fantastically boring, I'm moving to Brooklyn. I haven't met my new roommate, but she definitely exists and her name is Alicia (a friend-of-a-friend setup). As a fellow Midwesterner (a Wisconsiner!), I'm sure we will have a jolly time saying "pop" and "in line" to the shock and dismay of East-Coasters everywhere.
5. Four days after my return from the pleasant penisulas, I'm flying to Chicago for the Pitchfork Festival to spend two full days with Brian & his Oklahoma entourage. Amid seeing some great and not-so-great acts, I'll also be staying in the "joke of Chicago" hotel, according to my brother's recent review. Allegedly, our selected stay is famously home to Chicago's miscreants, bums, live-ins and the ilk, which should make for some unforeseen adventures.
6. I'm going to a pool party barbeque on Saturday. It's on Staten Island (uncharted territory). I'm a little wary, but confident that the heaps of free barbequed meat will assuage my fears. And maybe the ferry. But no, mostly the meat.
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