Yeah, now I’m sitting here trying to remember what we did on Wednesday, or separate the events of Tuesday from the events of Wednesday from the events of Thursday, and failing rather miserably.*

Either way, at some point, let’s say Wednesday, we made our way over to the large supermarket chain store nearby. We did this with Z. because he has a car and it would have been too far to walk comfortably. And now I’m certain that this was on Wednesday, because I remember the weirdness of  Z coming over to pick us up, and because we are useless girly stereotypes we weren’t ready for another twenty minutes because we were running around putting on make up and shit.

Eventually we did make it to the supermarket. Not much notable there, except that we spent almost eighty dollars, which was painful and actually traumatizing for me, but a necessity due to my sister having NOTHING in her fridge or cabinets. So now we were a lot more broke but we had enough food. Which is always a sign that you’ve got at least some of your shit together, and it makes me feel better to open the cabinets and have some options. Food: worth it.


I am drawing such a blank for this day. I mean, I want to say that we cleaned some more, and then made our way…somewhere? Went outside at some point? Did we see Z? I can’t remember anything. I mean, I like to think this is when we bought some olive oil for me to make my OCM potion, but I couldn’t tell you for sure. Possibly. If so, we must have also bought the V8 fusion juice, in an attempt to get healthy without actually engaging in health behavior like eating fruit/vegetables, and I suppose did a variety of other things which make for a really, really boring weblog entry. Can you tell how exciting and cool we are? But actually, the entire point of me being here is to help my sister finish school by taking over all of the housework and a helping to oversee the moving process (which has changed now from moving to finding someone to room with her and cover half the rent).

So we are not supposed to be having fun, so much. We are supposed to be working; though as a side-note I think that night we also stayed up too late watching crappy clips of trash online, or possibly a horrible movie, so we failed at both avoiding fun and working.

* I want to say that soon, I will be blogging events with a little more immediacy to avoid these blanks and sort of dragging narrative, but I won’t promise that because promises  seem to be life’s cue sweep in and fuck around with you. But that’s my intention for the near future, in any case.


OK, hopefully this format of blogging will work out.

As I type this (hopefully the night before I publish it! I am slow) it is day six of my super!fun baltimore adventure trip, wherein I hang out inside my sister’s stuffy apartment all day and help her move and clean and cook. Woot-woot. But really it is a lot of fun, because my life generally consists of hanging inside my house all day and being forced to clean (not so much cook, I guess, but that’s a negative because I really do like cooking! My mother just believes that I waste the food by ruining it, and she’s not wrongbut that means Tuesday is not much allowed in the kitchen back home). Since my sister is, I gather, rather accustomed to eating microwaved oatmeal and expensive coffee for breakfast, lunch and dinner she’ll take my macaroni and pre-packaged microwaved chicken and like it, though, which is nice.

Am currently chilling (not literally; summer has finally arrived in Baltimore and it’s hot enough that we can turn off the air conditioners and still sweat at night – this is a positive, in my opinion) at my sister’s boyfriend’s place, probably because it is much nicer than our own – larger and sort of almost high end looking, with its sleek floors and open kitchen and stainless steel appliances. I won’t say anymore about the apartment because a full description could easily swallow this entire post, but just trust it is awesome.

To discuss Y’s boyfriend a little – we will call him Z. – because he is probably going to be around a lot, he is a bit different from her usual aesthetic – very blond, very blue-eyed, very mature and together. I give him an A-. Excellent boyfriend material, possibly not as hot – very attractive certainly  but not, I don’t think, in that blood-boil-ooh-dangerous sort of way that really, really gets you hot. Which is, you know, probably what makes him excellent boyfriend material in the first place. He has, like, a stable job/personality and knows what’s going on with his life. It’s very strange and makes me feel rather young.

So, we’re at his place and the two of them are in his room being very, very quiet – ostensibly because they are studying so very studiously, but I can’t help but imagine they’re actually making out like mad, which is a little awkward for me but hey. Actually if I find they’re not making out like mad I’ll be a little concerned, like; why in the world not?? So you crept into his room and then watched him studied very quietly for real??? But enough about my sister making out with people, since I suppose that’s the sort of conversation that makes people uncomfortable.

Six days of Baltimore, passing by very slowly, I feel. Which is a good thing! Let me see if I can recount the trip:


I arrived in Baltimore after my boring airport experience that I managed to write an ridiculous amount about regardless. I thought we would be taking the train back to the city from the airport, but my sister and Z. showed up in his car to pick me up. Miles more convenient and inexpensive? Yes, but I couldn’t help being a little disappointed – I love trains, even commuter ones, because we don’t really have them back home (also on the list of realistically boring things I find exciting: subways, brick, porches).

Saw Y’s apartment for the first time: beyond cool, in a very strange way, because my sister has a very sort of hipster, northeast, artsy vibe and her roommate was a west coast vegan hippy. The decor was…confused, in a good way, although apparently neither of them had taken to cleaning the way you should if you can’t afford a maid, so it was a horrible mess. Enough so that our dialogue as we entered went something like,

Me: Oh wow! This is so awesome! This place is great!

Y: Really? I guess it’s okay. It’s just normal.

Me: No, it’s really cool! Oh, look hardwood floors. What’s that smell??

Y: Smell?

Me: Yeah, as soon as you come in. Is that laundry?

Y: I don’t smell anything

Me: It’s sort of horrible. Is that from the kitchen? What the fuck?

Y: Why does everyone who comes in say there’s a smell??

The smell turned out to be emanating from a mystery!substance in a bowl in the dishwasher, which was fully overflowing with dishes. After I tackled the kitchen – which I want to reiterate was disgusting – with a pair of yellow rubber gloves and a bottle of disinfectant the smell disappeared, and there was much rejoicing, mostly with a chinese delivery indulgence – fifteen dollars gone immediately! – but the food (fried rice, thankfully without an excessive amount of vegetables for once, bourbon chicken, these crabmeat pies for my sister and ridiculous chinese “donuts” (read: dough, rolled into balls, fried, and then haphazardly covered in sugar) ) was delicious, insane, we weren’t even able to talk we were inhaling that shit so desperately. I want to say we were watching part of a movie throughout, but I couldn’t tell you because my eyes were unable to leave my plate even once. Possibly we were also just hungry.

Then we stayed up until around 1 am watching internet clips of random trash. Nothing much got done the first day.

Now, sometimes (every few fortnites or so, apparently) I actually get the urge to write something, only to find there’s no computer nearby. So I’m starting  a new segment, cleverly called “Tuesday’s Moleskine,” because I have a moleskine (it’s black and fairly ridiculous), and sometimes I need to transcibe that bitch. See: tuesday morning at the airport.


“I am currently at the gate waiting for my plane to BALTIMORE whooo-yeah!! So, at this point you may be saying out loud to your computer screen, “Tuesday, this trip is getting a little redundant. It’s hardly the first time you visit Baltimore, and I’d thank you to get a hold of your fake enthusiasm, please.” Well, that shows how much youknow, because I’m actually inordinately, inappropriately excited! Yeah! Baltimore! Totally!

 OK, to be fair a large part of that is just being away from the towering, crazystrict presence of parents who don’t make any particular distinction between twenty and thirteen years of age (not, mind you, that I feel it’s worth moving out and like, paying rent to someone, especially when I have no steady income. Life is all about figuring out your priorities, and one of my big ones is to live comfortably, as much as that’s possible. Marry up*!).

 So I’m waiting for my plane to come. It only took me, oh, twenty minutes to attract the weirdos (ok, to be fair I have taken planes, buses and so on before without attracting any weirdos at all, so I guess I’m not going to go on a whiny rant about my (probably nonexistent) ability to attract weirdos. But let’s just say that I’m very delicate looking, very thin and sinewy but rather plain looking, in terms of attractiveness, and that combination (of seeming defenselessness coupled with possible self-esteem issues) attracts a lot of weirdos a certain kind of guy. Let’s just say before I decided to Not Date the inquirers weren’t exactly Prince Charming.

So, anyway, I have just set up my laptop when a guy, a bit overweight, late thirties to late forties (can you tell I’m terrible at guessing ages?), Haitian with the heavy accent to go along, sits across from me. No problem so far. I call up my dad to ask a question, and when I hang up HaitianDude leans over and asks to borrow my cellphone.

Now, sometimes I am rather paranoid, I can admit that pretty readily. So I hesitate to answer because I am having visions of him starting to dial and then making a run for it across the airport – which I will admit makes not much sense since he’d probably be tackled by security before you can say “Hey!” But paranoia isn’t supposed to make sense, so moving on I asked first if he was calling out of state or…? No, no, he assures me, not out of state. When I ask which area code (I realize this is a bit much, but after all I wouldn’t mind answering these questions were I the one asking to use some stranger’s very expensive, new looking razor cellphone), he explains, eventually, that he’s calling Haiti. To which I said, “Oh, it’s out of country. Yes, that’s much better.” Except the much-better part was in my head. So at this point I’m about to give up the phone, despite not being very comfortable, and I ask (yes, I was full of questions, I’m a very irritating person and you probably wouldn’t want to borrow a phone from me, because I am weird about things like that) about how long he would need: five minutes, he says.

Now maybe I’m just a terrible conversationalist (maybe, ha) but this seems like an awfully long time to be on the phone. Like, that’s a whole conversation with your lawyer or dad or something, not a quick check with someone like I assumed – I mean, I was a bit taken aback because I was assuming he’d say something like “thirty seconds” or “a minute”. At this point I start hemming and hawing some more, and then Guy very nicely guesses that I really don’t want to give up the phone and says “You can say no.”

So I say, “Yeah, sorry.” And smile all apologetically and go very quickly back to my ipod and laptop, because I have the strong sensation I have been a total bitch – which frankly I don’t mind being to someone I won’t ever see again. They’ll just be like “yeah, I ran into this real bitch at the airport” and that’s the end of that. So I put on my bitch persona, complete with headphones to block out further conversation.

 All that does not make him a weirdo, frankly it makes me a bit of a weirdo, if anything. But later, when he sits right up next to me and touches my arm and says, literally, “Do you know Jesus loves you”? Yeah, that’s when he makes my weirdo list. Will now retire the word “weirdo” from this post, btw.

 I say “Yes, I know.”

And he says “Do you?”

And I was like, “Yeah, really. I really, really, know. I am Christian.” And I was tempted to fish something Catholic-y from my bag but refrained in case he would then attempt to convert me to his particular denomination. And this conversation goes on for a goddam while, too – Jesus is great, Jesus loves you, give yourself over to Jesus, yes I agree, yes I have, and so on – and maybe I would have put an end to it a bit more abruptly were I not still feeling guilty over my non-phone-lending ways. Eventually he wandered off and has accosted (or, okay, from a distance it appears to be normal conversations but you know he’s out there pimping Jesus like nobody’s business) like three people since. Also, this is why Jesus gets such a bad rap – shit representation. Christians! Be cool!

 Other stuff going on around me includes: everyone has Dunkin Donuts coffees and bagels, which makes me glad I ate a lot otherwise I’d be wasting money on terrible, overpriced donuts, and there’s the most attractive gay boy sitting in front of me. Well, okay to be fair I have no idea what he looks like from the front, but his hair is so, so beautiful, a kind of layered medium brown that waves perfectly and goes down far enough that I can barely see a bit of pale, pale neck. And he’s wearing a lovely black shirt. He is like a vampire, and totally brings out the middle-school, medium grade lust in me. Yum, such delicate shoulders. I wish he would get on the phone again so I could listen to that beautiful, lilting voice encourage someone to finish their paper. Hmmmm.



*just kidding. No, really. If I end up marrying someone more well-off than myself I’d probably end up all resentful and insecure, like I’m the asshole mechanic husband with an inferiority complex who drinks because his junior partner lawyer wife makes more than he does. It’s just terrible of me! Oh well. A girl’s got to be able to take of herself, always, even when she currently isn’t – as long the capacity to do so is there. You gotta have backup. And so on. This was a pretty long footnote.”


I never really ever got around to finishing my bloggings of last year’s trip to Baltimore, but I’m feeling good about my writing prospects this time, because

a) it’s a much longer stay, three weeks and

b) I’m spending a good part of the day doing nothing, so I actually have the time

Until later,

– Tuesday

Was dragged to this little sushi place by a friend, under the pretense of going out for some Chinese. Devious!

So, I have stayed far, far away from sushi since…always, because I’d like to think that I know myself at least a little. Hopefully, enough to not be, like, “Ok, well I know I don’t like fish, or anything, really, that lives in or near water. And I know that my detestation for undercooked foods is such that I inevitably burn everything I cook….so, sushi! Sure!” But I figured, you know, trying something once is always blah blah etc, so we went to this little Japanese place where they give you chopsticks and no, they don’t have duck-sauce and you should never ask because you will feel very fucking uncultured and ridiculous.

The atmosphere was great, but the food itselfm, of course, was all very disgusting. I mean, it’s Raw Fish and Other Strange Things (which would be the name of my sushi place, just btw). I had to literally choke that shit down. But y’know, at least now when I insist that no, I would not like spoonful of fish eggs, thanks, I can feel very honest in my conviction.

The rice, utterly doused in soy sauce, was pretty good, though. And also, most of what I ended up eating. Here’s to leaving a bunch of raw fish at the table and looking vaguely eating-disordered (people assume this about me! *is sad*).

So I’ve decided that posting madly for a couple of days and then disappearing for several months at a time is totally a valid schedule. I feel no shame! Meanwhile, a girl briefly abandons her blog and then come back to find everything’s changed! Dammit, wordpress! How am I supposed to publish a flurry of inconsequential and confusing updates on my life and readjust to the new interface* in the two or three days I have available before I must vanish once more??

Luckily, I have an impressive backlog of unpublished drafts. Although, I’m not sure how I feel about posting about my “new job!” now that I’ve worked there for several months, been fired, and hired anew? Mmm.

*I have no idea if that’s the right word, there.

Also, I’ve just realized that the spell-check here doesn’t recognize “blog” as a real word. Oh, thanks again ,wordpress, I’ll be sure to change that to change that to “bog” (pretty appropriate, actually!) or “bldg” (really, spellcheck?) right away!

lest she break out in hives. So, it’s finally getting a bit colder down here – the last two nights have been down around fifty degrees! I haven’t broke a sweat in nearly three days! Hurray seasonal changes! Unfortunately, the winters down here are kind of unstable, so that yesterday we dropped thirty degrees and I nearly died (seriously, I spent all day shivering. I think I may have lost some weight). Today, I wake up and promptly curl up and whimper (internally) for a while as the cold tried to become one with me.

So that when I rushed out of the house to catch the bus (late as usual) I realized a bit belatedly that hey, I only own flimsy t-shirts! So I grabbed some vaguely-thick looking half-sleeve thing from my sister’s closet and off I went. Only it turns out it wasn’t really as cool today as yesterday, by like ten or fifteen degrees, so that on what was easily the best day I’ve seen in a year to be wearing sturdy jeans and a good t-shirt, I was nearly-sweating (but not quite! thanks, dove deodorant!) and just kind of uncomfortable.

Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the glass doors of a building and realized that I’m actually wearing the ugliest. fucking. sweater. ever. I literally paled. It’s hideous! There’s glitter involved, and fakefakefake diamond things, and a drawing of a fucking butterfly! I can’t even think about it, it makes me feel faint. When you consider my hotmess hair (I really, really need to get myself to a salon to straighten my roots – they’re nearly two inches and I look infuckingsane), and my poor, yellowed, unpolished, bittendown nails, and I probably look like I just, just barely function. Sigh.

Or, y’know, just take note. After weeks of hanging out at the pharmacy indecisively between bus routes and feeling uncomfortably guilty about the fact that half my nail polish bottles currently reside in a sad vinyl make-up bag at the bottom of my dresser, I finally dug up three bucks of my hard earned cash and bought another Milani – “Cool Vibe”.

That was on Friday. I put it on last night and was quite pleased – I had been staying away from hot pink because it can look quite tacky, but this color was very strong, without being dark, and I floved it with all my shallow little heart. Then I walked into the bathroom, glanced down lovingly and bam – I had purple nails! Dark, dull, purple nails. At least I can put to rest all my thoughts on how I would look in purple – the answer is a loud, definitive “god awful”. Ugh.

As far as I can tell, the color change has nothing to do with light intensity, so I assume it’s the type of lightbulb. I can’t confirm this because I have no idea what kind of lightbulbs I have, and no, I never will. But sometimes my nails are awesomecoolpink, sometimes fuglydepressingpurple. *shrug*

And yeah, this is how I come back after a long and unexplained hiatus. You can really tell how critical, complex and thoughtful this blog is, can’t you?