ZOMG.

corinneisintownfortwowholeweeksholycrap. HOW FREAKING AWESOME???!!!!

when i left for work this morning, in my usual haze of sleepyhangoveredness, i had completely forgotten that she had flown down the previous afternoon. seeing her dishevled-ish spread out on my couch, fully clothed made my heart smile.

maybe this summer won't suck so much after all.

in other news, i baked this weekend?! home made vegan cinnamon rolls and champange were brought by yours truly to the boys playing polo in tampa on saturday.

then we drank a hundred beers. sofun.

champange+pete

aww. <3

pete's girl, jeannette can track stand like crazy too.

srsly, the gene pool requires these two reproduce.

yumms!

brunch this weekend. be there!

that is all.

xo.

BAY AREA POLO!

yeah, it's happening. the polo bug has bit the tampa bay area. yesterday was the first practice and it is set to happen every monday in tampa. permanent location is still being decided. i'll keep ya'll posted. amanda, lilly and i were there last night to distribute beer/hugs/cheer/take pictures. we had a blast.

also, there be a myspace: http://www.myspace.com/bayareapoloand a thread on the forums: http://flfixed.com/comments.php?DiscussionID=647&page=2#Item_4 for more information. i will be there on a fairly regular basis.

and next time i will bring:
more ladies. plus our bicycles.
baked goods.
more beer.
chocolate/strawberry milk for dave.
and one of these things:



i suggest team names and colors be chosen as soon as possible so that we might make obnoxious t-shirts/paint our faces. then we will chose sides and get in drunken fights from the sidelines.

no joke. watch me go.


or, watch pete go:


or dave:

anyways, in other news, i drank some beer this weekend.

evidence.

i also attended the CYCLE DE SOLEIL. i didn't race. but i watched dave japenga win 1st. prize was a 100 dollar bottle of champagne. he don't drink. BUT, he enjoyed some chocolate milk and so all is well. pete young placed 2nd, eric stubs 3rd and 4th went to mondo mike.

as for the ladies, amy horst was 1st, and st. pete's own carol davis was 2nd. both fixed. lilly got 3rd on her road bike.

the rest of us handled the burden of the after party. it wasn't easy but the dollar pbr's helped.

ALSO! luke stickland is alive! this made me so happy i needed photographic evidence.

who can complain about the economy when you've got company like this?

and finally, quote of the week: "listen you, how's about you just back off. i've been coming to this bar for 30 years, honey. you're earrings don't impress me", slurred the nice lady keeping me company as i ordered another pitcher from the bar. all i could really say to that was, thank you. i forgot there was still laughter in the world for a minute. or, for that matter, people who went to the same sad bar for 30 years.

on that note, i just mailed in applications for the museum studies program at USF. if all goes as planned, i'll be done in a year. then i'll be selling the house and peacing outta here to finish school up north. stay tuned for further endeavors in academic excellence. sotheby's IOA here i come. i won't be at the emerald in 2035, you can bet you bottom dollar on that one.

So this is going down tomorrow. Davis Island. Be there. I most likely won't be racing, for several reasons I'm not getting into right here, but I will definitely be around drinking some beers. Come say hello!



Also, looky how cute! This went down last week, when Carolyn and I attended The [5] art closing, then a bunch of us sat around and drank warm beer while awaiting Pete, Dallas and Taylor. They got lost, or something. Anyways, we then rode to Memas, ate a bunch of tacos, had our Polaroid taken from a deceiving homeless man for 5 dollars and rode our bicycles some more. Some time after that, I boarded a plane to JFK. Note, drinking and staying up all night only to get on a plane at 4am makes for a bad flight experience. So does having a having a four hour delay in MIA because your connecting flight is sans pilot.

Hey, times are tough.

are you listening universe? i fucking mean it.

I came to visit you because I needed closure. I needed something from you that I know now I will never get; that I’m not even really sure how to ask for. I could never trust you anyway. I take solace in that fact. And you and I both know that it goes without saying I deserve so much more than your inadequate existence. I feel like I’ve written this letter a hundred times over. I’ve talked myself out of loving you for near a year. I lost little pieces of myself in you, and what’s worse, I compromised my integrity for you for all these months because I believed you were worth it. I know now you aren't. But, I had to believe that all this meant something and that it was possible for some good to come from the mess we both made. But now I’m tired. I’m tired of the way you make me feel and of trying to quantify elation or, for that matter, depression. I’m tired of your eyes begging me not to ask. I’m tired of the words you'll never say. And most of all, I’m just so profoundly disappointed in you. I fell for you because I kept catching glimpses of the man you so desperately want to be; of the man I thought you almost were. But your actions and your consistently poor decisions prove otherwise. It’s funny, there is this huge part of me that desperately needed you to tell me I meant nothing more than a warm body and distraction from the loneliness that you exude. That I, like so much of your behavior, was merely an exercise in your unjustifiably over inflated ego. Sex is something I understand. Unwarranted cruelty and cowardliness, I do not. But none of that matters anymore. This letter doesn’t really matter anymore. The fact that I cried for the first time in over a year on that plane ride home doesn’t matter anymore. Because you’d never really make me happy. I know that now. Remember when I told you that, at the very least, I’d never not be your friend? I meant that. But I can’t be a friend to someone who won’t return the favor and you haven’t. I was unfailingly honest with you and without exception, willing to accept responsibility for every poor decision I made and, in return, you ran away, like a child. I never asked to feel the way I felt, yet I never negated those feelings despite vacillating on the consequences of this wreckage more than I'd ever care to admit. And, although my capacity to understand you through all of your, for lack of a more severe word, shortcomings, doesn't change the fact that your conduct has left me sick to my stomach. I always new it’d be anything but easy with you. But I, unlike you, really believed us to be worth it. And it’s glaringly apparent that your dedication to me, like everything else in your life, is significantly deficient. Part of me still wanted to ask you to prove me wrong; but I already know you won’t. You should know that I really believed I could forgive you. Though, I know now that I can’t. And regardless, you don’t want a clean slate, and that’s fine. Wilde says those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love: it is the faithless who know love's tragedies. And I’m better for that; for having loved you despite the fact that the esoteric nature of our relationship has finally knocked the wind out of me and I’ve finally allowed myself to let go. I’m defeated and for the first time, completely resolved to the fact that whatever the reason, you and I are without question, over.

Good morning forever.

corinne graduated. we celebrated.

so i manged to do everything on my nyc to do list. and i feel GREAT.

more stories and pictures to come. i haz some good ones.

but, for now, just an fyi to all my real life friends. my phone is donzo. maybe it's cause it was just too old. or maybe it's cause i'm really hard on all my personal belongings. or maybe, just maybe, it was that half consumed, open prb i drunkly stuck in my purse 'for later' only to wonder why all my shit was all wet and everything smelled like beer an hour later. opps.

anyways, i'm not sure when i will get a new phone. hopefully tonight. but i'm not able to read any texts or receive calls. plus i lost all my contacts. so, i need your numbers all over again!

st. pete's gone nuts. i'm heading to brooklyn.

okay, only for a week. but it's my first real vacation in two years! i will be flying out at the crack of dawn on saturday and returning on the 1st of june. i'll be staying in bushwick with my darling corinne. plus amanda who is moving home to the burg at the end of the week. there will be memorial day bbq's, pbr, loft partys, elicit drugs, whiskey, and tons of expensive vegan food. it is, brooklyn after all. if that doesn't work to put me in a better mood, i'll make out with columbia grad students at union pool who have complicated hair cuts and pay too much money for their jeans. this will surely put me in better spirits.

see, what has happened is the entire state of florida, and beyond, seems to have lost their mind. it's cool though, i made an appointment to see my shrink. not cause i'm crazy. cause everyone else is. every once in a while the drama and the heat kick in around the same time and the disparaged citizens of this fine city tend to make, what can only really be described as terrible decisions. then everyone talks about it. and then everyone gets all hot and bothered. and then everyone pretends like they don't, in fact, know intimate details about all the bad decisions that you, and everyone has made recently. this only complicates the situation and nothing really ever gets resolved. so, i'm peacing outta here for a few days in a what is possibly a vain attempt to clear the air.

also, i started to make flow charts of all my colleague's bad decisions; outlining where they went wrong and how often these situations could have been corrected. but a las, if you were doing it right, you probably wouldn't still be stuck in this lost cause of a town. and hey, even if you aren't still in this city, you likely have some residue of st. jude about you. sounds harsh, sure. but anyone from these parts, knows i speak the truth. anywho, while flow charts have proven to be in many ways therapeutic, they can be very daunting! some folks just make consistently terrible choices. not only is it difficult to outline this, it's depressing as well. at which point, you just gotta say, oh st. pete.

anyways, if you be in nyc in the coming week, hollar. you look like you need a drink.

also, corinne and i are cute. evidenced above.

heartbreak lends itself to ridiculous situations, apparently

last time a girlfriend of mine pushed through heartache, we ended up crashing the st. anthony's triathlon's afterparty on top of the pier and dancing up a storm to soulja boy. But, alas, that's another story for another time.

so, yesterday evening i sat on my kitchen floor sobbing for longer than i'd care to admit. which, you know, was kinda cool seeing as how for the past year i've not been able to cry. but after the novelty of it all wore off and after the ensuing hour of shit talking pasted, we sat out to do the only thing that one really can do in my situation. collect several of her favorite ladies and head over to st. pete beach for some good ol night swimming. nothing will ever get you over being sadfaced quicker than a 12 pack of yuengling and skinny dipping. no really, it's been proven.

there is absolutely nothing like standing on the edge of the world, naked with a cold beer in hand and pointing out the constellations. i saw phosphorescent phytoplankton for the first time last night. and for the first time since i put my sisters on planes heading to the far reaching corners of the land i realized that i was really, truly going to be okay. and that despite it all, i can still feel infinate.

there is also nothing like four girls walking into the bright headlights of a beach cop's vehicle, arms crossed over bear chests. that was the first time i've ever had to dress in front of a man in uniform. it was a night for firsts, apparently. note to self, attractive, wet topless girls can get away with just about anything. where's the Cop's camera crew when you need them. i just wish we hadn't dunked those beers into the gulf outta fear of the long arm of the law. i'm a good st. pete girl. we no like wasting beer.