7 Things of Christmas.

1. Best. Present. Ever.
I don’t mean to pit my friends and family against each other, or upset anyone who was kind enough to buy me a much appreciated Christmas present this year… but if I’m being honest, there was one gift that stood miles above the rest. My boyfriend (the best boyfriend ever– yes, I have to say that now) bought us tickets to see the one-night-only, star-studded concert reading of A Little Night Music at the Roundabout. It’s in my Top 3 of favorite Sondheim musicals (right next to Merrily and Company), and it’s the only one I’ve never seen on stage. I’m already getting goosebumps just thinking about it!

2. Worst. Present. Ever.
The chicken enchilada that was served to me when I clearly ordered the cheese. I had my first bite of poultry in over a year. Thank god for the giant margarita sitting next to me. The alcohol burned the taste of chicken right off of my taste buds!

3. A Crown Heights Christmas!
Last week Lady R. came over to the ghetto the heights to help Jeannie, A.Rod and myself make cookies. Results below…
Pre-frosting:

A woman’s work is never done:

The model-esque Lady R. (now parting her hair to the right):

Lady R’s gluten-free cookie mush:

Jeannie and the Xmas Tree:

The finished product:

All photos courtesy of A.Rod:

4. Air Un-Fair.
Part of my dad’s Xmas present was supposed to be a bottle of red wine, made locally in Long Island. While packing, I thought I was being smart by putting the wine in my carry-on. I wanted to be sure that my dad would be able to enjoy the wine, instead of having it break, and therefore staining all of the clothes in my suitcase. As if I haven’t flown on an airplane a dozen time since 9/11. As soon as my man-purse came out the other end of the x-ray machine, I was pulled aside an told that my “bottle of liquid” would have to be checked in or confiscated. Not wanting to buy a new suitcase on top of paying the additional fee for checking two bags… I said goodbye to the bottle of wine and shot the airport employee a dirty look. So as my dad enjoyed the much cheaper replacement wine bought at “Chet’s Liquor Store” off of Highway 13, I’m sure some employee of the LaGuardia Airport was enjoying his bottle. Happy Holidays, indeed.

5. Grandmothers Say the Darndest Things, Part I.
God bless grandmothers. Mine are finally becoming the crazy old biddies that all elderly people have the right to turn into once they reach a certain age. My mom’s mom (G.P.) is in the stage where she’ll just sit there any ask you the same questions over and over, oblivious to the fact that you gave her the answer not two seconds ago. This Christmas, her top three inquires were: 1.) What are you doing out in New York? 2.) When do you leave? And 3.) Who’s stocking is that hanging on the end of the mantle? And as if I didn’t hate repeating over and over again, “Yes, I’m still working at the pharmacy…” G.P. would also throw in the occasional “Why don’t you just get your degree in that?” Bah-humbug.

6. Grandmothers Say the Darndest Things, Part II.
While G.P. belittled me repeatedly, G.K. (my dad’s mom) slept soundly in her chair. Thinking it was safe, I sat next to her for awhile…. which worked out just fine, until she woke and gave me the play-by-play of how my grandfather died. Way to kill my steady holiday beer buzz grandma. My wish was granted when she finally changed the subject, however, the relief was short lived. G.K. then went into a 20 minute diatribe about her days as a working girl (not that kind!) It’s not that I don’t enjoy hearing about the history and hardships of my grandparents. But when grandma is still half asleep and talking in a whisper, it makes the story a little less enthralling.

7. Seven Pounds.
No, I am not referring to Will Smith’s latest Crap-fest. I’m talking about the amount of weight I’ve put on in the past week thanks to all of the cookies I’ve consumed. Okay, cookies and beer. Seriously, I’m going to need to start the new year out at a detox center. Preferably one that doesn’t resemble this:

No 7 Things.

No “7 Things” post this week.

Here’s why:

Dive Bar Birthday Party!!!

This is me contemplating turning 29.

Unlike my wise, water-drinking friend Adam, I spent the whole night with at least one and a half beers in my hands.

And afterward, I was foolish enough to invite some of my co-workers up for an after party that involved a little too much vodka.

So do hangovers. I spent most of Saturday switching back and forth between the bed and the couch. (Fear not, by Sunday I had recovered enough to go on a shopping spree thanks to some b’day giftcards.)

Now if my liver was fully recovered and as clean as the day it was before I turned 19 21.

Beach Day.

The original plan for today was for me to do a half day at work, so that I could join MD-BF and his sis (in town from TX) to go upstate and dine at the C.I.A.

Unfortunately, MD-BF’s sis had to cancel her trip at the last minute. So instead of going upstate to eat, MD-BF decided to use the day to go upstate and clean out his storage space. As soon as MD-BF explained that he would be donating his unwanted goods to the local Goodwill and Sally Army, I immediately volunteered to take the entire day off so that I could “help” him.

When MD-BF texted me at work yesterday to suggest that we go to the beach instead of a storage facility, I happily agreed (once of course I got over the initial shock of my precious thrifting being taken away from me.)

Although I just had a four day weekend last week, I decided that I needed another extended holiday. When I am at work, I bust my balls. In fact, I’ve busted them so hard the past few weeks, that I don’t think I can have kids anymore. So don’t a deserve a little something as reward?

Or a big something… Like the brand new 26″ Widescreen Flat-Panel HDTV/DVD Combo I bought myself this morning. (MD-BF had a rental car for the day… Brooklyn just happened to be on the way to Long Beach… I had all this extra OT $$$ on my paycheck… My birthday is coming up… It’s Friday… I had a million good reasons to buy this TV, okay?)

After we dropped of my new lover TV at my apartment, MD-BF and I drove off to Long Beach so that I could get back my Miami tan (minus the hideous sunburn.)

While Long Beach is not quite as picturesque as Miami Beach, it’s at least a step up from Coney Island Beach (which doesn’t take much.) Instead of being covered with garbage, Long Beach is littered with translucent (dead) jellyfish that look like silicone breast implants.

I guess along the boardwalk there was a little bit of garbage. But as they say in the world of garage sales and thrift stores, “One man’s junk is another man’s treasure.” Truer words have never been spoken.

MD-BF wrestled a small child found this Cinderella doll in the sand. We had fun playing Top Model with her.

Here’s Cindy getting her seaweed wrap.

I spotted this baby that had it’s head smashed in by a brick. I considered rescuing her and bringing her down to the beach. But in the end, I didn’t want to mess up the tan lines she was working on getting rid of.

Here’s me almost flashing the whole beach as I tried the old changing-under-the-towel trick.

While I didn’t get to thrift today… I still had a pretty sweet day. Of course, I didn’t have to work today either. So really, I could have done absolutely anything, and I would have considered it “pretty sweet.”

3 Years!

Three years ago in Minneapolis I left a TV and a three foot tall light-up Easter bunny on the side of the road and headed off to NYC. My car was half filled with my belongings, and half filled with my friend Alisha’s belongings, who was sitting next to me in the front seat with a map of the United States in her lap and boxes at her feet. In the car behind us was my friend Nora, who was following us out East to move to Boston.

For our anniversary this year, Nora (a girl who doesn’t like to stay rooted in one place for too long) flew in from Seattle (her new home) to celebrate.

We made it a Brooklyn Day and visited both the Botanical Gardens and Coney Island.

(Nora and Alisha discovered why it’s called the “Swinging Car.”)

Happy Anniversary New York!

Kennedy Kids Reunite!

If you’ve been wondering why I haven’t posted much in the last week, it’s because I was busy walking all of New York City, showing my siblings and their significant others around town. Yes, that’s right… the hottest week this summer, and I had four people crammed together in my un-air conditioned apartment.

And yes, I was forced to go to a sports game. Two of them actually. Yankees above. Mets below.

(Here with my straight girlfriend, Alisha.)

Everyone met my gay boyfriend as well. My sister already knew about him before she came out here. But considering I never officially told my brother and sister-in-law that I was a flaming ‘mo, I wasn’t really sure how well that would go over.

When I picked my bro and sis-in-law up at the airport there just wasn’t time to tell them that I bugger men. And it would have seemed inappropriate to talk about it in the cab ride into the city. It wasn’t really a conversation that I wanted to share with the cab driver as well. So instead we talked about my place in Brooklyn. I told them that I lived in the ghetto. When the cab stopped and we got out one block west of Columbus Circle, my bro and sis-in-law had a look of confusion on their face that said, “This is what you call the ghetto?” My exact words were, “So I have a surprise for you guys… this is my boyfriend’s apartment.” After they recovered from their initial 30 second shock, they got very excited about being able to meet him.

My sister made a great first impression on Doctor Boyfriend. Her first night out here she got a little tipsy off of a few margaritas. After dinner we took a crazy cab ride up to Magnolia Bakery. My sister made fast friends with the cabbie, Ali Mohammad. Sitting up front with Ali, my sister closed the partition to the back, cranked the radio up so that no one could hear anything, and then almost threw her leftovers from dinner out the window. At Magnolia she started eating the frosting off of a cupcake the moment we stepped in the door. She did the Kennedy name proud!

Because it was my bro and sis-in-laws first time in NY, I got to do a lot of tourist-y things. Here’s me on the Circle Line looking crabby.

But I wasn’t actually crabby. I think I was giving my sister-in-law a look that said, “Do you really need another picture of me?” She took over 600 pictures in 4 days. 100 on the Circle Line (an hour tour) alone.

Here are some other great shots of me:

Too cool for F.O.A. Schwartz

Being interviewed (cuz I’m famous.)

Being a good sport at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.

Posing for my senior picture.

Here’s another good one of my sis:

Chewy has a crossbow, and I told her to pose like he was about to shoot her in the head. It ended up looking kind of perverted instead.

Here’s my favorite one of me and my bro:

My brother and I don’t have a lot in common, and when he first told me he was coming out to visit I started having anxiety attacks. Thankfully, this trip proved to me that although we don’t have a lot in common, we can still have a good time.

In fact, a good time was had by all. I look forward to the next time they all visit… which should be in a few years. That gives me plenty of time to recoup, and them plenty of time to get rich enough to rent a hotel room the next time they come out here.

Like We Needed An Excuse To Get Wasted On A Wednesday Night…

HAPPY 30TH JOS!

Probably Should Have Been Unpacking…

…but instead:

Never gets old to me.

More Proof That Fire Island Really Happened…

Momma’s Little Helper.

Lady R. came over this afternoon to help me pack.

And by pack, I mean sit on my bed and read me excerpts from US Weekly.

Proof That Fire Island Really Happened.

From someone’s iPhone:

I’m pretty sure Robert’s farting in the second to last picture.

Ah, memories.