Remember when...

My sister accidentally ran a red light in Boston yesterday and a pasty white, four-eyed, wannabe machismo with a gut and receding hairline got out of his car and legitimately chewed her out at the next light. You know, because his elongated horn sounding was not enough. The shock factor of it all was surprisingly ephemeral...we laughed for the next hour.


I thought I got prank called the other night about my blue suit but it was really a Chinese lady from the website where I ordered it checking on the shipment. It became quite obvious that it was legit when, after gleefully screaming back at her ("Who is this?! Haha!!"), she repeated her shtick without a slip of any telling sign of English tonality or giggles in the background. I profusely thanked her, then laughed at my suspicious self (Friends...please prank call me? Just like I seriously, truly adore waking up at home to a toilet papered yard, I love it when I can call you out on my fake pizza order. Thanks!!!)


Rachel and I drove through the woods listening to K-Ci and JoJo blaring. And I did the same with one of my sisters today and, while she did get into it...she just. did not. understand.


I deactivated my Facebook. I simply question its relevancy. Most of this, I'm realizing, will be a great litmus test for the people who are truly most currently important in my life: it's too weird having a girl I used to babysit (and her mom), my past crushes, and my best of friends on the same playing field. My nearest and dearest will know how to get a hold of me, or be more resourceful (is that selfish? I suppose I run that risk.).
The kicker?
A friend request from my dear dear uncle (more like 2nd cousin once removed)'s awful ex-wife, as well as the feeling of knowing I don't want to be defined by a "like" of a status update, a comment on a photo, or an invitation to join the now-annoyingly-ubiquitous groups for wedding announcement address sending. I certainly don't look down on those who still have accounts: I simply claim ownership of what works for me, and now, I'm moving on.
If I need to get in contact with someone desperately, perhaps I'll reactivate for a second to message them with my information. Compromise? Yes.
Capiche.


I pushed the 70s in number of "Me Talk Pretty One Day" pages and still waiting for the "Memoirs of a Gay Childhood-meets-Lewis Carroll Psychedelia" novelty to wear off.
Just so harrrd because I was laughing out loud at Sloane from page 1!


Mark Ronson remixed Amy Winehouse...the twist-n-shout greatness commences at 0:52...