In Which We Go to Boston

L. and I tried to hit the road pre-rush hour on Friday (have you SEEN the Mass Pike during rush hour?), but to little avail, so we didn't end up getting into Boston until about 7:30pm. That, combined with the fact that though I could navigate that little city with its little T structure with my eyes closed, we cannot for our lives drive in it. THIS is my biggest problem with East Coast cities, as compared to the bounteous beauty that is LA. These cities weren't built for cars, and as a result, are completely un-user friendly. Everything is a one way. And half the one ways are closed, anyway.

/rant.

So. In the car we had texted D.H. asking if we could pretty please make reservations for Fire and Ice, our favorite restaurant to hit up when we're in the city. He knew we were getting in late but had said he'd eat dinner with us, though he had a work drinks thing at 6:30. But he responded that he wasn't going to be able to eat dinner since they were getting appetizers at his work thing, so we should just go there. Which was fine...except for the fact that a. we were completely starving, and b. we didn't know any of his coworkers/knew it would be super awkward. And c., I didn't feel right about our food getting charged to their table's tab, which would of course then be expensed. So we got in, grabbed D.H.'s keys to drop our stuff in his apartment, and then decided we'd do dinner on our own, so we could try to eat real, healthy food, and to avoid the awkwardness of a table filled with 12 or so people we didn't know.

L. and I just went to Brownstone, the cute Back Bay restaurant that D.H. took me to last time I was in the city. It's so good, and it was close, since D.H.'s work thing was on the same street, anyway. The work happy hour was already a little silly, so we decided it'd be best for us to try to catch up at dinner. I ordered a Kentucky Lemonade, which was probably the best thing I've ever had in my life, maybe even better than my newfound love for gin and lemonade.

After dinner, L. and I walked back to the bar to meet up with D.H., and his roommate, Tennis Guy. Even though he introduced us to all his work friends we were still, obviously, feeling pretty awkward, but then he informed us that in about an hour the dance floor downstairs would open up. YES and also yes. L. and I LOVE to dance, so we were highly anticipating that. In the meantime, the boys did Jaeger bombs (of course they did) and I kept it classy by ordering a Manhattan, which is definitely an acquired taste, but delicious nonetheless. Then I kept it totally un-classy and ordered a frozen margarita, which probably had more calories than my dinner, but was delicious nonetheless.

The dance floor finally opened up, and everyone essentially stampeded downstairs to get down there. This bar is out of control. It's the same one that D.H. and I watched the Celtics-Lakers game at a couple months ago, and it has not one, not two, but THREE fully-stocked bars in it. Including the one on the dance floor. Unfortunately, I had left my card open at one of the upstairs bars, so we danced for awhile, but then I decided I had better go up and get my card before I forgot about it later. I ran upstairs, cashed out my tab, and attempted to go back downstairs. The following is an accurate portrayal of the situation:

Me: Try to walk downstairs.
Bouncer: Uh, excuse me, you'll have to go to the back of the line.
Me: (Noticing there is, in fact, a line.) Oh, no, I'm sorry. I was actually already down there, I just ran upstairs to grab my card from the bar.
Bouncer: (Arm does not move from the stairs). Sorry. Back of the line.
Me: (Beginning to get upset). But, I was ALREADY down there. I ran upstairs for two seconds. Everyone I know in this bar is down there.
Bouncer: Back of the line. (Do you see a pattern here?)

Now, I am the sweetest person you will probably ever meet. It's true- ask anyone. And I'm pretty terrible with confrontation. But if I feel like I've been wronged, or if someone screws me over, then I will lose any trace of pleasantness. It's just not cool to let people walk all over you. Granted, this guy was probably just doing his job. But I HAD ALREADY BEEN DOWN THERE. I fumed and huffed and puffed, alone in line, and texted the boys that I was stranded. D.H. and L. ran up the stairs to try to get me, but the bouncer told them if they walked up the stairs, they would be stuck up there too. I told them to go back downstairs and have fun. The guy standing in front of me turned around to look at me, and I figured it was because I was being super obnoxious. But instead he smiled and said that the exact same thing had happened to him, and everyone he knew was down there too, and he was equally miffed. And when we finally got to the front of the line, he let me go in front of him. How nice is that? Always bond with other people who are in equally yucky situations with you!

Back downstairs, the fun was kind of killed for me, and it was already slipping into the wee hours of Saturday morning anyway, so the boys and L. and I decided we should just head back to the apartment. But not, of course, before I stopped at the store and bought a pint of Ben and Jerry's Cookies and Milk. (My judgment was clearly flawed- I had been so good all week!!). But then D.H. and L. decided they needed to run to D.H.'s office, which was just down the street, to grab Forgetting Sarah Marshall so we could watch it. Well, obviously. So Tennis Guy and I walked back to the apartment while the boys did that, and had glasses of water and had a nice chat. See, TG and I are quite the same when we drink: we stay almost exactly the same, albeit perhaps more loose and giggly (on my end.) L. and D.H., however, turn into these crazy people who run around and sing and do lots of physical activity. It was definitely wearing us out.

The boys came back with the movie, which we proceeded not to watch, and we all watched an episode of How I Met Your Mother before falling asleep. The reason I go into so much detail about all this is that something really funny happened the next morning: on the way to lunch at the Prudential Center (right across from D.H.'s office/apartment...lucky duck), D.H. had to stop in his office again to grab something. When he came back out he looked puzzled. "Why was there chex mix in my elevator?" he asked. L. burst out laughing, and said that he had totally forgotten that the night before he had "left a trail of bread crumbs (chex mix) from D.H.'s office to the apartment so that he could find his way back to work."

Blog friends, meet my boyfriend. He makes me, and Boston pigeons, very happy.

We spent the day shopping on Newbury Street, which sounds like something I forced them into until you realize that D.H. likes shopping more than I do. I found a super cute boatneck sailor-striped tee at H&M and totally lucked out by getting pair of luxe black Editor pants from Express for only $30 because of a promotion! Ladies, if you have NOT purchased a pair of Express Editor pants...I just...you just have to. You just do. They are the most comfortable and flattering pair of dress pants you will ever wear. DO IT.

So anyway, after our shopping excursion the boys and I finally went to Fire and Ice, where I happily went into a little bit of a feeding-frenzy blackout and awoke to discover I had eaten probably more than my body weight in chicken stir-frys. That didn't stop us, though, from heading to JP Licks in search of cupcakes (red velvet with cream cheese frosting!), but ultimately settling for ice cream since all they had was vanilla. Boring!

Of course, the only pictures we took all weekend were at the ice cream shop. This is my new H&M top! What do you think?


Then we headed to Newbury Comics, which has the CHEAPEST MOVIES YOU WILL EVER FIND (like, $3.99. For realsies) and pretty much bought out their entire stock. I'm not kidding. Between the three of us, we bought: Get Smart, Catch and Release, The Girl Next Door, The 40 Year Old Virgin, Old School, 500 Days of Summer, Win a Date With Tad Hamilton, PS I Love You, Accepted (showing a little love to our friend J. Long), Season One of the OC, Season One of Psych, The Wedding Date, Season One of How I Met Your Mother, and more that I'm forgetting. Let's play a fun game where you guys try to guess which movies L., D.H., and I bought, respectively. Hint: they're all probably opposite of what you'd think. (Translation: D.H. really likes chick flicks).

We all curled up at home and watched Catch and Release, which may or may not be an awful movie, but which I love, anyway. We were getting ready to go to bed around 1:30 when Tennis Guy came home...with a girl. L. and I were sleeping on the couch, right across from the bathroom, and when she came out in the middle of the night we were a little worried that it might be awkward. Of course, we didn't know then that the next morning, when L., who had been sleeping on the inside of the couch, tried to crawl up and over me (but of course decided to be a big joker about and "pretended" to get stuck, mumbling "oh, jeez, um, oh gosh, sorry, I can't seem to, oh, um") wearing nothing but boxers, TG's nighttime visitor would pick that exact moment to walk out to use the bathroom. That's right. L. was scantily clad and straddling me as I lay on the couch, completely innocently, and she walked right out at that moment, let out a startled giggle, and ducked into the bathroom. God knows what she thought we were doing. Not our finest moment. We had to clear our names at brunch.

We had brunch at the South End Buttery, which was a super cute cafe with casual outdoor and bar seating upstairs and cozy tables downstairs. Being just a short walk away from amazing brunch in the city made me realize how much I am DYING for this year to pass quickly so I can graduate and move to LA and take in all that the city has to offer. On the other hand, though, I'm a sentimental wreck and will probably cling to every mundane event senior year has to offer (last Homecoming! last Thanksgiving break! last course selection!). I just have to remember what the subtitle of my blog is all about: small moments.

(butohmygosh I can't wait to live in the city.)

(especially a city I can drive easily in. I didn't say quickly, just easily.)

(because my feet were killing me Sunday morning and I almost ruined a pair of super cute silver strappy sandals. Say that five times fast.)

ANOTHER Road Trip??

L. and I are quite the jet-er-car-setters this summer. We had anticipated a lazy Williamstown summer, complete with lounging by the river, visits to the art museum (but why would I want to do that, really? It's where I work. No going to work on the weekends!), and general happy boredom.

Well, that all changed considerably as soon as we got here, since we've gone away more weekends than we've stayed. Last weekend was our Mohegan Sun and New Jersey pool party weekend, and today after work we're leaving for Boston to visit our good friend Real Life Dan Humphrey. I visited him not too long ago, but L. hasn't seen him for awhile, and since their bromance is one that will last through the ages, it will be fun to all spend some time together. I am, however, planning on taking it a little easier this weekend than I did last. That, by the way, explains why there was no Preppy Pool Party recap-- things got a little silly. Perhaps too silly for the blog.

Anyways, I fully expect Boston to be silly enough but still coherent, so hopefully some fun and exciting things happen for a recap on Monday. Although maybe all the fun and excitement is here in Williamstown, considering last night, hanging out at the bar, I got not one, but TWO kisses on the cheek from Justin Long. I'm never washing this cheek again. (Except, I already did. Too late.)

Hope everyone has a great weekend!

Re: Social Life (It Does Exist...Kind Of)

Here I sit, blogging, on another consecutive Saturday night. But this time it's almost justified, since I had my wild and crazy Boston adventure/sleepover with Real Life Dan Humphrey and his roommate, Tennis Guy, Thursday night, from which I'm still recovering. That's probably more interesting than why I'm home on a Saturday night (which, incidentally, has a lot to do with having gotten up at 8a.m. today to babysit a two year old, which is all cute and bubbly except if you happen, as I do, to not be so fond of the childrens), so let's talk about that.

After spending my last week and a half sitting home at night, drinking glasses of wine and watching terrible Lifetime movies with my mum about women stealing other women's babies, I decided it was due time that I got myself gussied up (read: out of my gym clothes) and went out and did something befitting of a 21 year old young, hot thing. Real Life Dan Humphrey's birthday was last Sunday, and since I was otherwise engaged then I decided to do a scandalous mid-week night of debauchery. I'm allowed to be completely irresponsible since I'm on break from college, although it's another story for RLDH, who did have work at 9am Friday morning. And I did have some freelance editing stuff that my boss had sent me on Wednesday to be completed by Friday. But work be damned, we were going to celebrate his 23rd like it was a birthday that actually mattered. (Let's face it RLDH...it all goes downhill after 21!)

So Thursday afternoon I packed my overnight bag and, after my dad questioned whether I "really felt safe with this guy" (as if A. RLDH wasn't my best friend's ex, B. RLDH wasn't one of my boyfriend's best friends, and C. wasn't one of MY best friends) and equipped me with a knife (to be fair to him, it's mostly for my car, so that I can cut my seatbelt and break the window if I ever get submerged in a body of water...yup, this is the man who also has me carry pepperspray in WILLIAMSTOWN, Massachusetts), my trusty British GPS friend and I hopped into the car and reverse commuted to Boston at 6pm on a Thursday. Since we were heading INTO the city and not OUT of it you'd think there'd be no traffic, and I told RLDH I'd be there around 6:30 (I live about a half hour outside the city.) Everything went swimmingly until I got off the highway...and then I proceeded to sit in traffic for TWICE as long as it had taken me to get there. That's right, driving the 5 or so miles to RLDH's apartment in the city took me longer than driving the 30 miles from my house to Boston. And then my GPS, who clearly enjoys seeing me sweat, commanded me to take a left in a right-turn-only area, adding another good 20 minutes of re-routing onto my route. So when I finally pulled up to DH's apartment around 7:30, we were both starving.

DH changed out of his work clothes into his "non work clothes" (I can't tell the difference; they're all varying degrees of button-down sweater-pullover belt-and-loafers-combos) and my heels and I battled the Boston cobblestones down to Dartmouth Street, where DH took me to Brownstone, a super cute classy pub type place.


DH and I decided to go all out, so I forewent my anti-carb-and-sugar diet for the night and, well, basically consumed entirely carbs and sugar. We got these cheese waffle-fries which came with actual SLICES of pepperjack cheese melted right on top. We would come to regret this decision many, many times that night. Then I got the Brownstone Burger, which was delicious. DH wouldn't let me pay, like a true gentleman (plus, his income is about 500% more than mine annually), and we went next door to Clery's, which is basically like Brownstone's Irish alcoholic cousin. (Not to say that all Irish are alcoholics, of course, but Clery's IS an Irish bar, and it in fact had TWO full "bars," as in places the bartenders stand, inside ONE actual "bar," as in place where people go to get schwastey. For any How I Met Your Mother fans out there, it basically felt like a really, really big MacLaren's. (Which, incidentally, I always thought was a real place until recently. Sadness.)


We were super excited about watching Celtics-Lakers game one. At the beginning of the night I predicted that LA would take the finals in 6. By the end of the 2nd quarter, I decided they'd do it in five. Sadly for poor Boston, there seemed to even be more Lakers fans in this Boston bar than Celtics fans! Much to his credit, DH kept his eyes mainly averted from the tv and on his lovely friend who would have been very upset if she had driven to see him only to be forsaken for a tv.

Since the Celtics weren't doing much for us, DH and I naturally turned to drinking. We each owed one another a birthday drink, so we decided he'd buy a round and then I'd buy a round. He started us off slow, with a UFO for him and a whiskey sour for me. When it came time for my round, DH said to "surprise him," so I procured two of my favorite drink for us: SoCo and Coke. Guys. This girl loves her some whiskey. Especially SoCo. I once remarked that SoCo "tasted like Christmas" (referencing, of course, its sweet, spicy taste.) A friend promptly responded that I was going to have some really sad Christmases ahead of me. Unfortunately, DH can't handle his SoCo as well as this girl, and so while I virtually sucked mine down like water, DH had half his beer and a SoCo and Coke left by the time I was two drinks in. Our "you buy one round, I buy the other" idea quickly became laughable as we planned out our next "x amount" of drinks. After discovering that DH doesn't like manly drinks (he's going to be so mad at me by the end of this blog), we decided to do a virtual 180 and order mojitos. Even though it was DH's turn to buy, he naturally couldn't order a mojito in a Boston bar and emerge without a black eye, so I went up to do it, only to find that the bartender didn't have mint. WHAT?! You're KILLING me! So I ordered a citron-and-Sprite for me, and a rum-and-diet for DH. Yeah, I hope you're laughing. I'm laughing too. My drink slowed me up a little since vodka and I aren't really good friends at this point, but somehow I made it through so I could get back to my main man: SoCo and Coke. Another of those and another rum-and-diet for DH (which I got by conveniently going to the OTHER bar-in-the-bar so the mint-less bartender wouldn't think I was a total lush...which, if we're being honest....), and we were feeling pretty good, read: drunk, at this point. Especially since all I had had earlier in the day was a soy protein shake before the gym.

We probably should have called it a night at that point, but DH's roommate, Tennis Guy, got out of work around 11:30 and decided to join us and buy the next round. If there's one thing I've learned since I turned 21, it's that you do NOT turn down a free round, so I kept my mouth shut. But when Tennis Guy asked us what we were having, and I said SoCo and Coke, he just laughed and said "I'm not ordering you that." What?! Don't deny a girl her SoCo! So TG went off to concoct a special surprise for me, and came back with, I kid you not....Hypnotiq on the rocks. I could drink SoCo until the Celtics win a finals tournament (see, it's funny 'cause they never will...get it? get it?), but throw some Hypnotiq on me at the end of a very long night of drinking and it's a recipe for disaster. I like sweet drinks, but Hypnotiq tastes like something that a drunken Willy Wonka would have created in the factory. Thank god after that we decided it was probably time to head home.

The point of all this salivating discussion of SoCo is to demonstrate that we were very, very drunkers. Well, at least I was. DH had two beers, which obviously don't count toward getting you drunkers. (I think I learned that in college.) So we stumbled back along the cobblestones and talked about procuring eggs to make brownies. When we finally got back to the apartment, TG turned in (he works from like 9am-11pm every day...poor guy), and DH and I drunkenly settled down on the couch to watch the season finale of Gossip Girl. Warning: major detour here, but GUYS?!! Did anyone else WATCH it? No spoilers, but OMG CHUCK? I FREAKED out. FREAKED out. It was really intense, maybe too much so for drunk Michelle to handle.

After GG blew my mind, it was time to call L. for our nightly good-night. He wanted to conference call with DH since they haven't seen each other for awhile, so I found DH in his room and lay down on his bed next to him and put L. on speaker in between us. I didn't remember any of this conversation the next morning, but apparently, according to him, I told L. he wasn't entertaining enough and was boring us to sleep. Poor L.! To be fair, DH and I were drunk and exhausted and falling asleep at that point. So much so, in fact, that when L. and I got off the phone, we both fell asleep right there. I woke up a few minutes later and asked DH for a blanket so I could move to the couch, but he just said "Why don't you just stay there? Let's just both stay on our sides, and it will be okay." And being as half-asleep/half-sober as I was, I said "great!" and immediately dozed off. For about five seconds. DH's apartment is HOT. I felt like my poor mother, who gets hot flashes about every .6 seconds. And suddenly all the caffeine from my SoCo and Cokes caught up to me. And....wait a mintue. Why was I sleeping in the same bed as DH? It was all very, not awkward, but definitely out of the ordinary enough for me to be unable to fall asleep, so I basically dozed on and off until about 7:30am, at which point DH got up to GO FOR A RUN. I am so impressed by that boy. When he got back I decided there was no point in my trying to get any sleep anymore, and then I remembered that Tennis Guy was up and walking around, and realized that we were in kind of a pickle. When DH got back from his run I heard TG say, "Hey, DH, where's Michelle?" And DH said, "In there." And then came into the room laughing and said that TG had given him "the look." The funniest part of all this is that when I told C. about the falling-asleep-in-DH's-bed story, rather than freak out, bless her heart, she laughed hysterically and revealed that DH had gotten "the look" quite a few times before from TG when C. had stayed over the apartment when she and DH were, let's just say, not quite together.

Exhausted but surprisingly not that hungover, I packed up my stuff and fantasized about heading home to crank up my AC and sleep the day away. I said goodbye to DH, aka my new bedmate, (we talked about how the true test of a platonic male-female friendship is to sleep in the same bed for the night and have it not be super weird), and headed home, crawled into bed, and found that sleep just wasn't in the cards for me. So I went to the gym to do some 1000-calorie damage control (I made sure I burned 500 calories Thursday afternoon as a preventative measure, but realized that was nowhere NEAR the food and drink debauchery of the evening.) Somehow I made it through the day without dying, only to wake up bright and early at 8am today to babysit a two year old boy. We can discuss that later, since this post is super long and, as I read it over, very self-indulgent. It's okay though, because let's admit it to ourselves: is there anything MORE self-indulgent than blogging? I mean, besides cheese fries and SoCo?

DH is having another party tonight to celebrate his bday (I jokingly asked him how long he was going to celebrate this thing), and I had thought about going down but driving back the same night (sharing a bed twice in a week could be a little awk), but I'm not feeling up to it tonight due to the exhaustion that comes from hating babysitting children and some bad news I got earlier today. But I wouldn't want anything to dampen the lighthearted, lushy, self-indulgent tone of this post, so perhaps the reasons the childrens and I don't see eye to eye and the bad news will come tomorrow. For now, I hope these shenanigans justify to ya'll why I'm sitting this Saturday night out.