i promised i would give you an upclose and personal look of life behind closed doors at an oral surgeon's office. wow, who's that hottie? 

blood and pain are the only things on my mind right now. granted, im not some morbid chick, no, not by a long shot. but all these upcoming surgeries sure have me nervous. tuesday- emergency wisdom teeth extraction. be on the lookout for a chipmonk-esque picture, if you're in need of a laugh. also, if you encounter me next week, expect lots of drugenduced slurring. yum, painmeds. 

i really miss my girlfriend. here we are at rio grande, a favorite hotspot down in lewisburg west virginia. they make a mean margarita (or 9) lee and i met while mating fireflies down at allgirlscamp. i fell in love at first sight of her bushy red fro. she's back at camp now and lonely. noone catches fireflies and forces them to mate quite like i do. she knows this. (love you leeleebird.) 

this is my past slash future roommate and bff lydia. her birthday is on sunday and i love her and i am preparing treats and surprises for her delight. i will miss her pretty face morning, noon and night when i'm in italy. and who will dance in their underoos with me on my bed to early 90's pop music next year? happy 20th lover. 

a day of mourning

rather morosely, my mother informed me, "'she' was sentenced to 5 months." i know what she meant by "she" and had known for as long as my mother's been throwing cocktailparties on the patio. july 15th, the day martha stewart was sentenced to 5 measly months in the clink. she's "both angry and sad" she admitted to babs walters tonight, choking back the tears.
 
 
on a side note... new drugstore dermatologist recommended products must be the toiletry business' equivalent of hardback books (monetarily speaking). in which case, when will that new aveeno positively smooth moisturizing lotion come out in "paperback?"

off to charlottesville for the day tomorrow- midsummer's fiestas with my girlfriend at uva. expect stories.

i really know how it feels to be stressed out. stressed out.

biggest fears (apparently) come true. not the medium ones nor the cliches (the dark, death, the bogeyman). but the obscure, highly personalized fears that subconsciously eat at your soul and you pray you're never faced with them. and then you are.
i realized what my worst fear was as soon as i realized what my most prevalent thought was: to have healthy, creative, beautiful babies one day. and then i realized that not being able to physically have children of my own to raise would be my worst fear. thinking about not being able to experience what i'm on this planet to do (procreate, of course)just makes me queasy. and i always thought that if my worst fear were to come true, that if there were complications with my hardware, that i wouldn't find out about it until i was truly ready to have kids which makes the situation all that much worse because you discover you are incapable at the exact moment you simply want your body to be capable. so now i deal with the uncertainty of my own capabilities.

my insides hurt.

was a shite day. can't describe anything in any degree of detail. towards the end of this tragic tale of a day came my second wind. putting the girls to bed tonight was difficult. irene and i actually verbally brawled. she cited the ever popular "you're not my mommy" excuse on why she shouldn't have to turn out the light because i didn't own the house, her mother was the owner. so i began to sing. i didn't care what she was babbling about. it was musical time - i was bringing out all the stops. began with some mccartney and before long i was remembering grandma's lullabies and obscure camp alleghany numbers. and they ate it up (i even got a request- "edelweiss"- ireny's fave (i'm pumpin that jam in my stereo right now, that julie andrews, christopher plummer, great musical couple.)) for a brief thirty minutes i was free of negative thoughts (and obgyn's).

kit came to visit last weekend. it was good to see his pretty face. i helped find that shirt he's wearing years ago on the lower west side. i miss being 15 a lot.  

i got you on film too. dont worry. http://share.shutterfly.com/action/share/welcome?i=EeANmLNo2aMmrChA 

post-spongebobsquarepants popsicles. 

poopy diapers, sippy cups, dora the explorer.

back to work after a weekend of play. while babypoolside this afternoon i caught up on my observational skills of the girls and their peers at the valley country club, pissing up said baby pool. cutest little bleachblonde, maybe 2 years old, reminiscent of a baby emmyclairebear. what a wonder 20 years has done to my once whiteblond head. and what a difference 3 days in long island did to revert my crown to its glorious summer white. what a [shallow] cycle i go through year after year. the darker my hair gets in fall slash winter- the duller my exterior, the drearier i am in general internally. then, wham, a few days in the july sun, gimme a tan and a boost in blonde, and im happy as a clam. is it the healing powers of the sun or my own obsession w/ aesthetics that creates this summer sensation?

why can't these kids swim? i mean, god love 'em, but irene is 4 and can't manage one stoke without me holding her under her pits. she has become much less timid in the water, dunking her head under etc. but god, by 4 i was already diving and on the swim team. hell, i was off the diving board by eliz's age (2) and here eliz can't even use the potty. i swear, if mrs.taylor paid me i would pottytrain her myself and in my free time, teach irene to swim. simple rules of parenting would tell you: pottytrained by 2, swimming like a fish by 3.
oh! and one would assume that one could wipe her own butt by 4. but no. not that i'm really outraged that part of my job description requires me to help wipe after 3 poopoos a day, but just today, wow, irene comes up to me, naked of course, with a brown crayon in her hand, places it in mine, and in walks eliz saying 'irene pooped on that' and lo and behold, there it is, a poopy crayon! she used the crayon to wipe the remaining poop off her 4 year old ass. what? a day in the life...

quickly becoming their parents. 

bugbites, sunburn and an inkling of this morning's hangover.

that's what i've got to show for this past weekend in nassau county, five towns long island new york. actually, i had a spectacular time, but was much more aware than i had been in my previous 19 summers before. this place, this lifestyle at the beach is rather surreal. these people cannot be real, one might think, and growing up over the years i just assumed that everyone drove beemers and had country homes. (note, the dierkes family drives a ford and a toyota and has one home. there are not many families resembling ours at either lawrence beach club or rockaway hunting club. and since i'm not busy speeding my x5 down ocean ave. i have lots of time to people watch, and that's basically the gist of this here blogentry. fyi.) so the days are passed at the beach club, shooting the shit about last night's goings on at the yacht club. golf is played, southsides are consumed, good times are had by all. despite the fact that i live an alternative artstudent lifestyle, i can't help but love living the good life, if for a few weeks every summer. sure, i can't relate to half the kids there, but we've all grown up together, our kids will be in tennis clinic together in another 15 years. weird and yes, surreal, but it's tradition, and i'm way big into traditions. but still, the art student in me cringes everytime i realize i've just signed a "chit" with our "member number" for a ten dollar black-and-white milkshake and frenchfries.

-the 4th was great- i didn't do much in the ways of patriotism. slept through the annual parade around the pool. but last night's fireworks were incredible. we were mooching off our friends the keatings, crashing in their guesthouse and last night we looked over the balcony over the marsh where we had a flawless view of every beachclub on atlantic beach, i.e. about 40 different fireworks shows at once. and as i got shitty on southsides watching that very trippy lightshow illuminate the long island sky, i thought, shit, i do love this country. even though i musta seen about 37 different "W 2004" hats/shirts/accessories this weekend, oy. yea, speaking of patriotism and republicans, just found out that Lindsey's parents were introduced to one another through none other than george w. and laura. thats a too-close-for-comfort george bush connection there, eh?

this blog is hysterical and obnoxious. i could make it even funnier, drop some names, like the fact that kelley's working out in southhampton as a party planner, she went to jay-z's pink party saturday and last night was puffy's white party. what?

verrazano sunset. good long island weekend. 

papermoon album cover.  

commencement of the summer of the pink polo.

latenight girlfriend bedtime. 

i just ate a bag of thirty+ cherries while i was contemplating captions. 

what can i say? daniel and i need no introduction. therefore, i feel that a caption for this here doubleportrait is unnecessary. dan is a truefriend: he just sat through the movie dodgeball with me despite feeling woozy and also displeased with the plot.

nagowski and bradley. brilliant. 

i'm basically just adding more pictures. thats my problem. i want these pictures to do the talking i suppose. but instead here i'm supposed to use this here weblog to express all those underlying emotions i've got swimming through my thickskull. so i suppose i'll attempt both: displaying and explaining the visual.

this here is matt. and matt. through incredible circumstances, a few nights ago we became friends/friendsters/facebookfriends. i certainly enjoyed their company: their tendency to be rather un-baltimorelike was a breath of fresh mountain air. they provided much needed companionship.