P: Heartbreak Hill Half Marathon...Vicarioiusly!

Grr, I am SO mad that I'm "injured!" I should have seen it coming. 4 different sports in one week (soccer, frisbee, running, rock climbing). Two half marathons (supposedly) in one week. 5 hours average sleep a night. My body was angling for a hurting, and here it came. Okay, it's not THAT big of an injury. Or rather, it's just frustrating because I can't articulate what exactly the injury is--it's either a torn or pulled diaphragm, ab, or rib muscle. All I know is that the right side of my center ribs hurt like a mo-fo and it hurts to breathe. Or laugh. Or sneeze. Or twist from side to side. Or sometimes, just to sit there.

So after my awesome half-marathon experience last Sunday, where I had a PR (personal record) of 1hr, 57 min, I went to my rock climbing class on Tues. Bear in mind, would you, that it's an INTRO CLASS and it's the first day. I could barely complete one climb, and when I went to do a second, I was suspended 1.5 feet off the ground, and my Korean language partner is like belaying me, and his friend is watching us on the sidelines, and I'm wearing tights and the harness is pinching at my ass, thighs, stomach, and I feel like a freak. My legs were so tight from the half that they would not move. I couldn't leave the footholds to get a better grip, so I was just suspended in the air, twisting and thrashing about, trying to get better leverage. After the class, I have this weird twinge on my side, and I figure I'll sleep it off. But it gets worse on Wed. So then I think, oh, I'll massage out the knot with a golf ball. But Thurs morning it's even worse. It hurts to breathe. I can't get out of bed. If I twist side to side I'm in pain. It culminated to Thurs night, where I was sitting on my couch wheezing, gripping at my side and thinking, "sh*t, do I have appendicitis?" No, of course not. I call my cousin, who once had appendicitis, and she's like,

"No, the pain would actually be down lower. YOu just need to let a big one rip."

But that doesn't sound right. It's not a gas pain, it's a muscle related one. So I'm wondering how much of a hypochondriac I am, wondering if I should go to the emergency room, since I can't breathe, and I call my parents. Who get very worried. As much as they trained me to never take tylenol or advil for fear of addiction as a child, my father's the first one to say, "go to the emergency room." My mother's like, "go take some vitamin C, then go to the hospital." I just didn't understand why the pain was getting progressively worse, not better, and why I couldn't really breathe.

Anyway, after some belabored breathing, I finally manage to fall asleep , and I feel much better the next day. So yes, I guess I am paranoid. Although when I'm about to sneeze, my whole side freezes up again, and I'm like, okay, I guess I'll get it checked out at the health center.

Blood work, urine samples, prodding at my chest, at which point I start crying because I'm kind of in pain, and the doctor came to the conclusion that: (1) it's not mono (2) it's not a kidney stone and (3) I'm not allowed to run a half-marathon this wknd.

GRR!!!!$$&%*^(*!

I have now gone one full week without exercising, which is the longest I've gone all year. And I am going to start gaining weight. And my body's been craving more food, post-half-marathon, because it seems to think I'm going to be burning yet another 1300 calories in under two hours, so it's eating in anticipation of that. This is bad, bad news.

Incidentally, Brian came up from NY this wknd (he was here to see about a girl) and it was his bday wknd, and he ran under my bib # with our friend Amy. So really, the records show that I ran the race in an amazing 1hr, 47 min pace. We had a great wknd of shopping at the Burlington Mall in I think NH? and I bought a bathing suit from this store called Martin & Osa, which is a higher-end spinoff of American Eagle. And we made a pasta dinner, and since the race was so early, I too crashed at Amy's, before we were up at 6am for the race. And it was weird being a spectator for a race that I would've run in. Luckily I hooked up with this guy who was also there to watch his wife, and I got a ride with him to the heartbreak hills, so I got to see Amy, Brian, and this other kid from running club at miles .3, 2, 6, 7, and then 13.1!

So, although the weekend was fairly tame, I am supposed to rest up so I can presumably kick ass at my climbing class on Tues, and then I REALLY need to be in good shape for the Harpoon Brewery 5.3 miler on Saturday. I will be so, so pissed if I can't run. I hate feeling like a gimp.

cheers, P

P: Diane in Boston Part IV: Science and Communist-Themed Bars

I realized I never finished posting about Diane's visit to Boston, aka "dorktastic weekend," where we met characters whose mouths smelled like "the inside of a butcher shop," and there were some hoochie/butchie (aka bootchie) tank tops worn, and there were social hoverers invading our conversations (c.f. "Spatial Diagram of 2 beers, water, and a pepper shaker, aka hoverer). I believe I was about to recount the exploits of our Saturday night, where we ended up in Cambridge at some interesting bars. We were there with Diane's friends from college: Mike and his fiance Megan, who were both very sweet.

Diane and I had a "snack" at Jacob Wirth's--bratwurst, salad, mit red cabbage unt potatoes, we then got dinner at--very glamorous--my local supermarket's prepared foods aisle. Which entailed bowtie pasta and meatballs. Whoop whoop! We then rallied to Miracle o Science, dubbed an MIT bar with the periodic table menu.

Diane, contemplating all things science. See the periodic table in the background.

However, upon arrival, we were somewhat saddened to see that it was ALL GIRLS. What up with that? Where were the dorky MIT guys that I've come to know and mildly tolerate? So, we had a pint of Ipswich ale, which turned into pitchers, and then Mike and Megan showed up.

Dennis the bartender snapped this pic for us. Incidentally, I am as brown as a rice paddy worker (while wearing the bootchie see-through tank top.)

Anyway, it wasn't until closer to 11pm that the bar started filling up. And up. And up. It was hella crowded, so we were quite lucky to get a little perch at the bar. Then there was this random Asian guy (I think Chinese) who kept trying to challenge us to shots, or something. So I chugged a beer with him (I asked him, "what's in it for me?" and I was under the assumption that he would buy my next round), but after I chugged (and I think I won), his little Asian girlfriend came out of nowhere and began shooting daggers in our general direction.

The guys in the bar were varying levels of dorky/cute, and Megan and Diane started talking with these guys who were like the B&T equivalent of Boston. For better or for worse. But then I think they got scared off by the huge rock on Megan's hand. And THEN they offered to buy the couple some drinks, to which Mike chivalrously declined.

Next we were off to People's Republic/k, a Communist-themed bar. Of course, only in Cambridge! There was a huge picture of Che Guevara, which reminded me of Morgan's T-shirt with the same print. Remember when were were accosted by these teenage hooligans by the Cube in Astor Place, asking Morgan if she knew where Che was from? Hooligans, I say, hooligans!

speaking of hooligans...

Anyway, we ended up talking with some Euro grad students, who were from, respectively, Italy, Switzerland, the Middle East, and Park Slope. The Swiss French guy looked a bit like Daniel Day Lewis circa "Age of Innocence," but that was all. Anyway, I spoke a little broken Italian with these folks, and Diane thought the swarthy Italian guy was hot. Which then reminded me--ha ha--of her high school soccer team trip where she had a rendezvous with a fellow kinsman...no?

more tomfoolery

Das Boot!

We didn't stay at the People's Republic for too long; Diane and I grabbed a cab towards Fenway, where this guy from my running club was having a house party. This guy is actually pretty annoying/dorky; my roommate can't stand him. But y

et I felt compelled--compelled!--to show Diane how people do it up, Boston-style. So we arrive at this ridiculously run-down warehouse/loft, with tarp on the ceiling, and people living in cupboards (literally, sleeping alcoves in cupboards). Diane has a conversation with one of the housemates, and I suspect they are talking re structural facadework. One of the guys at the party was also at my birthday party, incidentally, and he's half-Korean half-white, so he was telling me about his year in Korea. Then Diane and I called it a night after about a half-hour, which then puts us home around 2:30/3, and we pass out.

The next morning, we meet Amy at South Street Diner, before Diane has to grab her bus home. I was anxiously looking forward to this meeting, as it would be the two sides of Brian Hsia united, AND ...Diane is 5'9" and Amy 5'10", so I was eager for them to start a kind of height-comraderie club. Incidentally, Diane said, "look, now we form the Golden Gate Bridge," with the two tall ends standing on either side of me. Har har, Diane. Anyway, I hope the two got on swimmingly, and there will no doubt be many more reunions to come.

After a ridiculously fatty brunch, Amy and I headed back to Somerville, changed up, and went for a 10 mile run. What?

And then the ceiling of my bathroom collapsed all over the toilet. at 11:58pm. So Diane, in case you were wondering why it seemed like my roommate took a dump in the bathroom and left, it was actually that there was a crack in the ceiling and all kinds of unsavoury toilet smells from the apt above had escaped. Oh happy day.

P: I PR'd on My Half Marathon! + BBQs, 5hrs Average Sleep!

While Annie was on a boat and hiphopping with doctors, I was having a different kind of weekend. Sadly, there were no water activities involved (unless you count water balloons), although there were was much grilled meats involved. So I'm running a half-marathon this coming Sunday, called the Heartbreak Hill Half. It's basically the heartbreak hills of the Boston marathon...except you're running them over, and over, and over. Since they just published the course map and I learned it was an out-and-back, I was PISSED! All I want is to do a half-marathon in under 2 hours before I leave for Korea, so I decided the Boston Run to Remember would be the one to do it in. So 2 days before the race, I decided to buy some guy's bib # off of him and do the race. Also, I knew I would have to do a 10 mile training run this weekend, and I didn't want to do it. So I thought, eh, what's adding 3 more miles to it? So here I was, doing a race. Here's the course map.

Sat: After running 3 miles with my running club, I headed to this fancy spa (Bella Sant. e on Newbury) to get a sports massage. I had a gift certificate for SpaWeek from Xmas that I was planning to use. After this big, blonde what seemed like South Boston guy kneads at my back with oil, then prods at my gluts and legs (if I were a dude, this would have been the moment where I would've sprung a boner) , and then I hang out in the steam room and shower in their amazing Rain-style shower head... I find out they do not honor the coupon. Even though I cleared it on the phone when I made the appt, and they said it'd be okay. Which means I would have to pay for this $90 massage myself. The receptionist was pretty bitchy ("Um, why don't I give you your gratuity envelope now so you can pay the tip" as if I wasn't planning to do that?), the general manager came out, and she was super nice. And due to the misunderstanding, she comped my massage, and gave me back the gift certificate, since they wouldn't be able to honor it. So I left a $20 tip, which to me seemed more than fair, not only because I'm a student, but because that would be more than 20% gratuity. And now I will have to wait until April 2010 for the next spa week to actually use the gift certificate.

Sat afternoon: I was flakily invited to a BBQ that afternoon, but the host never emailed me the directions/details, so I figured it was one of those passive-aggressive invites where you're invited but not. So instead I had a relaxing afternoon post-massage, where I did nothing, and then met with some people from my running club for a pasta-carb-loading dinner before the half-marathon. We went to this tiny mom and pop's Italian restaurant called Ida's in the North End (the Italian distrcit), and it was really cute. And their wine is pretty cheap! Even though I only had one glass, hoping it would help me fall asleep that night. Of course it didn't. But it was really nice to see people from my club outside of the club setting. And I should say, that people clean up well. You can't always recognize people when their hair is pulled back in a ponytail or baseball cap.

When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie (piece of pie?)... that's Ida's.

After a lovely evening, I couldn't sleep that night, as I kept waking up and panicking. So finally I packed it up, packed it in and left my apt by 6:25am.

RACE DAY!!! I had a PR--a personal record--I ran it in 1:57:29! So I averaged an 8:58 mile per minute, although I thought for sure I ran each mile under 9 minutes. You don't understand--my previous fastest time for a half was the Brooklyn half exactly one year ago. Which I ran in 2 hours, 13 minutes, 30 seconds, averaging a 10min, 11 sec mile. So I shaved 16 minutes off my time, and more than a minute off of my average pace!!! This feels like a huge accomplishment for me, so that's why I had this stupid grin on my face all weekend long.

My pacemakers! Note how the upper left shoulder is a different color from the rest of the shirt--that's 13.1 miles of sweat, baby.

I ran with 2 other girls from running club who were aiming for the same time as I did, and one of them had this souped up Garmin pacemaker watch, so she kept our pace for us. I kept having the urge to shoot ahead fo rthe first 7 miles--I seriously felt like I was running very slowly. I kept thinking, oh, I must burst out now, because I won't have energy to be faster in the second half, so I have to use the adrenaline to my advantage. But instead I held back for the most part, and it seems the old adage of "slow and steady" kind of pays off. That being said, I ran the first 10k in like 52 minutes, and the first 7 miles in one hour. But it was around mile 8 that I started to feel exhausted. But then I randomly saw this guy I'm friends with on the sidelines (incidentally, here's how small-world Boston is--he was this MIT grad student I met on match but it didn't work out, and we decided to be friends, and here he was, on the sidelines. And casually I said hey and called out his name, and he said, "Hey, Patty!" and then that was that. Although he knew I was running the race, so it makes me wonder if he was there for sh*ts and giggles or to cheer me on...hmm...).

By mile 10, I definitely started to feel a little tired. I'm like, God damn the fact that I started running faster at miles 6-7 (because there were a lot of crowds by there). By miles 11-13, I was dog-tired. The last mile sucked because I started cramping up in my right ab/oblique, and there was nothing I could do about it. And the stupid course had only like 4 water stations, total. Bear in mind the day is starting to get really muggy and humid, and it was something like high 60s/low 70s. My T-shirt is completely soaked; it went from heather grey to charcoal. Even my navy blue shorts are soaked--thank God they were dark-colored, because otherwise it could've looked like I wet my pants. So I'm slowing down for the last mile, but then I seriously contemplated slowing down, even though I saw the finish line about a .3 miles away. By the time I was like, .1 miles from the finish, I just sprinted, ignoring the aching pangs of pain in my right ab. And...I got my personal record! But then, in my greedy sort of way, I thought, damn, I should've aimed for running a 1:55 instead of a 1:57, and blah blah blah.

Afterwards, I couldn't really eat. I was too tired to eat. I had a few sips of Pepsi, then ate some of the crust from a bagel, but that was it. But I tried to nap, but I couldn't. And I was averaging something like 5 hours sleep for the past couple of nights. It was kind of frustrating. I then headed to a BBQ in Somerville, hosted by a friend of my roommate's. Although my roommate couldn't make it. I didn't know a soul at this bbq, and I was kind of sweaty from having walked the mile from the subway station, but once again, people in Boston are really nice--they go out of their way to introduce themselves, something that never happens in NY. Because in NY people are too busy attending to their own circle that they can't be bothered to make someone feel comfortable! Sigh. I didn't stay for too, too long, even though my friend Amy came by after she did a 10 mile training run (which I was supposed to do with her, originally). So I jumped on a bus to NY and after 6 hours of subways, bus, cab, LIRR, I got back to Douglaston just before 1am.

Then I headed off to my cousin Spencer's BBQ in his new house i nGreat Neck, and I got doused by a couple of water balloons...smack in the face...delivered by my brother, who went off grinning a Calvin and Hobbes-esque grin......Then left at 6:30am the next morning to catch the bus back to Boston, before heading to a 3 hour class, which I almost fell asleep in, before I got called on by my professor to talk about the religious imagery in a Yeats' poem. Then a rock climbing class, and my legs just wouldn't move, and then I passed out at 10:30pm and slept until 10:11am this morning, and am at the library where all I've been doing is posting photos on this blog, and.... scene.

doctors, hiphop, boats & beers

ok, so first im doing a little flash-back to last tuesday, when we had empanada night, because i managed to capture a few of the momentitos and wanted to share:

ashley & rachel, my lady friends, trying not to look like they had too much red wine. this is a difficult task given the fact that rachel has a wine refridgerator in her house. and an undying passion for malbec. which is growing on me more and more. holla, argentina!

this is a little move we like to call, "the one-eyed text." rachel first explained this phemonenon to me: after a long night of being out, she found herself texting friends, but would always do it with one eye open. apparently this made it easier to focus. in the end, though, it should remind you (as you are likely doing it, probably without even realizing!) that you shouldn't be texting at all if you have to do it with one eye.

here are our famous empanadas! these larger ones in the forefront were the vegetarian equivalent of meat empanadas- made with ground soy meat, egg, raisins, olives, onions, etc. the smaller ones in the distance were my random creation - spinach with portabella mushrooms, sundried tomatoes, and feta cheese. both were deliciouso.

ok, so transition away from the empanada night, and into this past weekend...

friday night i had my first taste of pizza in miami. i know, insane right? ive been here since september 15 and other than getting pizza in a non-italian, non-pizza restaurant (which i dont think qualifies), i havent had a true dose of the stuff. after work, i went home for a run, and then headed down to southbeach, lincoln road, to try a new spot- 'sosta', i think its called? it was chanel & nicole & their husbands, & tracy & me - we all shared and tried each others, pretty delish, thin crust, well done. afterwards, we walked over to collins ave bc they were all heading to a house party (which i was kind of not interested in... but thought the walk would be good either way). amazingly, it was also hip-hop weekend in miami, which meant that the streets were packed with people. oddly enough, the first time ive ever seen a healthy dose of african-american people here. no joke! apparently in the past, this weekend has been rowdy, "dangerous", and i was told more than once not to go out on the beach at night. it was one of those horribly, horribly awkward feelings like, wow, is EVERYONE here racist? truth be told, walking along collins on friday night was not the least bit scary-- it was more entertaining like we were in a huge street parade-- i have never seen those blocks more packed with people, hanging out on corners, traffic jams up the wazoo, girls literally walking in their bikinis and heels with purses (although granted, about 75% of them really should not have been showing that much skin). anyway we finally got through the crowds (and massive police force that was out), and over to this house party...

a doctor house party! no joke. so chanel's husband is a dr., and ive never really had occassion to meet his coworkers or colleagues or anything, but there they all were, in this amazing apartment right alongside ocean drive and about 14th street, with a huge terrace bigger than my apartment, looking right out onto the ocean. of course, this being the home of a ridiculously famous neurologist, it also meant that he was kind of living like a bachelor (read: no toliet papers in 2 of the 3 bathrooms; no bath mat, no hand towels, etc). after hanging for a while there, we all decided we were poopered out & headed back through the throngs of people on collins and to our respective cars & homes.

saturday i didnt have much planned, other than catching up on rest & relaxing, although it was thunderstorming on and off. that evening, i met up with carla at her house, and then we went to a nearby wine bar that i had been wanting to try: you basically get a card & then can taste all the different wines you want- either a 2oz taste, or a half or full glass. very high tech. anyway we were having a great time sitting outside & talking under a covered area, even when the skies opened up & it poured for a while. a friend of her's came to meet us (who was dressed astonishingly like brett michaels- long hair and bandana to boot); there was a brief catastrophy when the wine bar lost carla's credit card and refused to apologise (unbelievable); but then we eventually got over the cancelling-phone-calls, walked again through more hip-hop related crowds on washington ave., and then headed to buck 15-- the dance-place that patty & i once tried to go to, but couldnt wait for to get crowded. (the infamous night we went to sandbar...).

buck 15 was relatively empty, as were most local spots this long weekend, but carla, brett michaels & i had a great time dancing to 80s music (scratch that-- brett looked like he was being tortured by reliving his long ago past, since he must literally be about brett michael's age). a lot of fun, but feet covered in blisters. i dropped carla off & headed home in anticipation of getting up early for a day on a new friend's boat!

this new friend, conveniently also named annie, is super cute & nice & swwet & fun, and is a miami-native- so her family is here. anyway she invited tracy & i out with her mom & dad for the day-- but sunday morning en route to get coffee and then head out to coral gables to meet them all, the skies opened up. OH miami. get it together. we reassessed plans & had some french-brunch on cocowalk at this adorable place (where the baguettes were delicious but they were really obsessed with playing UB-40 nonstop...) and then went to see a mexican movie, 'rudio y cursi' or something like that. a good day, but when we got out of the theatre at 3pm, the skies were tragically blue, taunting us for taking the rain so seriously... annie was beat but tracy & i went to celebrate the better weather at a place called scotty's landing, kind of like montys, on the water, hanging outside and drinking some beers. the perfect end to a randomly perfect day.

monday during an 1.5 hr run (in the serious insane heat), i was thinking of what to do with my holiday off-- and low and behold, when i got home, there was a message from annie proposing that we redo the boat! so again headed to coral gables, and off we went. this time we made it out on the water, by the florida keys, and stoped at a coral head where we went snorkling! my first time! it was so gorgeous-- a different world down there; coral reef, fish, plants, beautiful colors, sea urchins... after snorkling, we docked on an actual sand-bar where there were tons of other boats and people walking about in the sand, partying, with dogs, with folding chairs and tables- completely unreal. loved loved loved it. annie's mom packed us a lovely lunch that we ate sitting on the boat, then walked around in the sand. somehow, 6 hours had gone by, and we headed back into dock as we watched these insane dark clouds cover downtown miami and miami beach. not wanting to let a good thing end, tracy & i headed up to a taco place we had been wanting to try for ages, grabbed them to go, and went to sit outside at shuckers, covertly eating our contraband baja fish tacos. carla joined us for the tail-end.

then, sadly, the night came to a close; resulting in an overly-tired but productive tuesday morning, and here we are, wednesday already?! how did that happen... here's hoping that this memorial day weekend is merely the taste of all the delightful summery things to come.

xoxo

P: Morrissey in Boston!

Okay, so he wasn't exactly in Boston. But tonight I ended up at the Great Scott (a bar in Allston) for the Friday night dance party called "The Pill." THe theme of tonight? Morrissey's 50th birthday party. Holla! I went with 2 poets in the program, and we had a sweaty, bumpin' time. Although I was sorry I didn't get to dance around to "Girlfriend in a Coma," although they may have played it earlier or later. Just got home; about to rest up before running club tomorrow, then a sports massage, then half-marathon on Sunday AM. What? Why? I don't know. It's sold out so I'm running under the bib # of this guy from my running club. Oh, and then I run another half-marathon next weekend--the Heartbreak Half. Fun times! Yay! Okay, off to peel off the Forever 21 dress I bought in Miami (indecently short, eep), then pass out before running. G'night, folks!

summa summa summatime

i know for the rest of you, summer begins this weekend: memorial day!

i have gotten a glimpse of the summer, and it involves the following:

...flooded, rainy streets, unconditional downpour, people who still manage to speed and not use their signals when driving in said downpour at night...

...so much sweaty beach time...

...tropicalia cocktails...

heres to making it last...

xoxo

book club, college bars, the poor man’s montys and empanada night!

i actually had to look at a calendar to try & remember what exactly happened in the last week. Not like i was running around in umbros and soccer gear like miss park & diane (holler!) but it was definitely a long week..

Last Tuesday we had our book club meeting at rachel’s house; there were about 12 of us or so, sitting around, drinking malbec, nibbling on fruits & chocolate & humus, talking about ‘the brief and wondrous life of oscar wao.’ we all really liked the book, but more than the book, it was really like a social experiment to get in a room with a bunch of people you work with, or kind of know, and some randoms who you’ve met before, and talk about a book– as if youre kind of in english class, but kind of at a dinner party. For the most part, conversation flowed really easily; it was so interesting to see how everyone interacted, the social dynamics; that one girl across the room who was so loud and slightly rude but didnt really realize it as she interrupted everyone; the other girl on the pillow on the floor who didnt say much; without really knowing everyone, you got this odd sense of them just based on how comfortable or uncomfortable they were with the whole dynamic. Anyway, a really fun time (ironically?)– ended up staying until about midnight, which of course was much later than i would have on a Tuesday night, but still.

Thursday we had plans to go see a sneak preview of ‘angels & demons’, but when we showed up at the theatre in coconut grove a few minutes before the screening started (of course we were tardy: the traffic after work to get there from downtown is hell), they ran out of spots and, although they let us in to the theatre to pee, they were on to our games and escorted us out as soon as the bathroom trip was over. Instead, we grabbed some indian food at a new restaurant, where the waiter did a magic trick involving a red scarf (dont ask) and we sampled their regional-plates, like a tasting of several things from one area of india- pretty cool. Then, because we happened to be there, we headed out to a place called ‘cocowalk’- in coconut grove (i think?)- right near university of miami– and, you guessed it, full of college kids who were set to graduate the next day.

Insanely enough, they had a piano-sing-along bar, like the one patty mentioned she went to w diane (my coworkers and i all made this comparison later, as they both lived in boston recently); we started there, but couldnt really handle being around a live band doing covers with lots of drunk kids singing along (the band was on an elevated platform literally in the middle of the bar- no getting around it- could definitely have been a lot of fun if you too were there drunk w all your friends) - alas, we were not. So we headed on. After having a few at an outdoor bar, we stopped in at a place called “Mr. Moes.” which oddly reminded me of the now-gone bear bar on the upper west side- probably bc the inside looked like a dirty old log cabin, and it was full of drunken people making bad choices. We of course, were making wonderful choices: like ingesting “moose juice,” a 32 (if not 40) oz plastic cup full of some kind of alcoholic punch, while walking around, laughing and drunk college kids, and listening to their assorted pick-up lines. When i walked into that place, my first reaction was, “i love this place! Its my new favorite bar in miami.” about 3 minutes later: “i hate this. I want to go home.” love and hate, love and hate. On our walk back to the car several hours later, we passed by the ubiquitous sandbar of cocowalk: yes, another bar called “sandbar.” unfortunately, we would have had to walk around the block to get in, so we decided enough was enough & headed back to the beach.

Friday after work, another wonderful new discovery: the poor man’s montys. Its a bar/restaurant that is basically the same as montys– complete with the pool, oddly themed tiki-style (they were having a pig roast this weekend), and seats overlooking the water; but it was on the miami river, not the bay, and was very difficult to find (alongside the business district, brickell). We then headed to dinner at the river oyster bar or something like that, and had a delicious meal of oysters, ceviche, heirloom tomatoes, and amazing yuca fries. I would eat it all again now if i could. Otherwise, the night was full of good conversation but rather low-key– chanel, nicole & brook, and tracy & me. Then home to bed, in order to get up early for... latin dance class with rachel!

I dont know how she does it but each Saturday rachel has been magically using her friend powers to get me to go to a new dance class; something i never do or have done in ny, but which i find to be a lot of fun down here. It was in the david barton gym in south beach, which was absolutely gorgeous, but also weird– as if it were a gym that was also a night club. Dark. Low lighting. Soft beats. A little intense. Although the bathroom had tons of bumble & bumble products, so a girl cant complain really. Latin dance class was insane– i was the only idiot to not bring sneakers, so i was barefoot, tearing it up, samba, salsa, rhumba, chacha, no joke. Plus the instructor was obviously a highly sexy latin gay man, in black pants like he was patrick swayzee. The ladies loved him.

Afterwards, rachel & i had our long languid lunch (in part to bad miami service) on lincoln road, it started pouring for about 10 minutes (we hovered under the covered part while we finished our wine), and then trekked it up to forever 21, where she enabled me to buy not one, but two trashy pairs of shoes. Yes, forever 21 sells shoes. And they are hot. You dont even know. Not that i have an outfit to wear them with, of course, but i figure it just makes me happy for the meantime to see them on my floor. To complete our day, rachel surprised me by gifting me with an air-popper. I of course rewarded myself by eating popcorn for dinner. Who can beat that?

The rest of the weekend was pretty nothing; Sunday morning i ran in the insane heat, then took some work up to the roof– which i read, but then when finished, rolled over and fell asleep– and then cooked, did some pilates, the usual. This was compensated the following night (yesterday) by a gossip-girl-finale party at chanel’s house, complete with her amazing homemade indian food (chicken curry, nan, rice, samosas and empanadas) and others’ homemade desert (nicole made ice cream, tracy made muffins– and chanel made chocolate molten lava cakes). Insane. I woke up full. Although it did remind me intensely of my lovely ladies in brooklyn and our GG watching nights, it was also equally lovely to have a similar moment here...

Tonight we’re heading to rachel’s house for empanada night! (Empanadas on two nights in a row, when i literally had never had them before i moved here). We’ve been planning on this night for weeks, so finally we are getting into action! Since rachel & adrian are vegetarian, we’re doing one traditional version (with soy crumbles), and im doing the second with spinach & mushrooms. This motivates me to no end to plan an ultimate dinner party once im back in ny, cuban themed: empanadas, roast pork, rice &beans, plaintains, yuca... you will love it. Stay tuned, winter 2009!

Xoxo

P: Diane in Boston, Part I- Publick House, Beacon Hill, & Harpoon Brewery

Shall I let these photos speak for themselves? Methinks maybe, but I will attempt to describe the entirety of the Fantastically Dorktastic Weekend Diane and I had when she came up to visit.

Quickly, some highlights:

-Not one, but 2 dorky house parties, featuring boys with fake parrots and swash-buckling swords (no, it was not a theme party) and warehouses with tarp covering the ceiling to catch the toilet drip

-The coinage of several catch-phrases, including: “Her mouth smelled like a butcher shop” and “that tank top is both hoochie and butchie = boochie”

-Lots of craft beer was consumed, and much walking and running around in sneakers and Umbros was had. Diane and I were running about like twelve year old boys, in athletic clothes, carrying soccer balls and frisbees

-There were many homages to architecture, starting with the medieval/Trappist monk-themed bar to MIT’s architecture library to the historic houses of Beacon Hill.

Here goes!

THURS: PUBLICK HOUSE

Diane arrives in the evening, and despite the rain and delayed bus, she/I/we are in great spirits! Why? Because we’re off to dinner and drinks at the Publick House, where we’re seated at this table with pointy crowned chairs that made us feel very regal. If only we were wearing fur-lined capes fit for a king. This seat was right next to a fireplace—it couldn’t have been more picturesque. Diane got a MOJO IPA and I a Lagunitas IPA from their extensive beer menu:

Then we shared the citrus chicken sandwich and a grilled Cuban, which was just heavenly fried buttery meaty deliciousness. Here we are in our regal chairs, enjoying a pinty:

However, we were so tired from our respective travel and lack of mealage etc, that we only lasted 2 pints apiece, and made it home before 11ish.

FRIDAY:

We both wake up early, and I go for a 6 mile run while Diane reads Sin and the 2nd City (published by my former employer, holla), studies for her archie exam, and…plays video games on her ipod touch. But we head out by 10:30am, so we can have a beautiful walk through historic Beacon Hill, home of pretty houses, the blue-blood Boston Brahmins, and of course, John Kerry and his tomato ketchup empire wife.

HOWEVER! We were on a mission for an egg-and-cheese breakfast sandwich, and nowhere in Boston does such a sandwich seem to exist. Not anywhere along the tony Charles Street, not anywhere else in Beacon Hill. We had to resort to the Au Bon Pain under the Longfellow Bridge (by Mass General Hospital) to get our fix of bodega/deli food = (.

Anyway, fully fueled, we resume our walk through these picturesque streets. Diane--the aesthetically-oriented, architecturally-minded girl that she is--loved it. There are narrow, hilly streets, with lots of Colonial/Federalist/Greek revival charm.

Why is Charles Street so pretty?

Hobbit doors.

Careful, those seedy alleyways of Beacon Hill are DANGEROUS.

Diane likes her symmetry.

Diane standing in front of the 10 million dollar John Kerry house.

Pretty gas lanterns and back alleyways.

My favorite was the foot scrapers perched on each stoop. When I buy my brownstone in Brooklyn, my only request is that it has a stoop and it has a wrought-iron foot scraper. If it doesn't have one, then I'm going to get that shiznit custom-made.

This photo is for Jessi, Isabella and Bagel.

This way for Part II….!

P: Diane in Boston Part II- Harpoon, House Parties, & Other Shenanigans

So, where did I leave off? Diane and I walked around Beacon Hill, then decided to walk in the general direction of Harpoon Brewery, where we were going to partake in a 2pm brewery tour. We then happened to stumble upon Diane’s friend Mike’s office in Chinatown, so she sent a witty little text saying “Look outside your window,” as, well, well, we were perched just outside of his window. He calls back to say he’s not at work but instead out to lunch at the Barking Crab, a seafood tented joint on the waterfront, where my parents took me out for lobster back in Oct.

So Diane and I head there, because it’s on the way to the brewery, and what better way to celebrate a beautiful Friday than to head to a waterfront tent? And…why NOT start drinking an Ipswich Ale pint at 12:30pm?

Diane, Mike, and Mike’s coworker Stephanie

We tell Mike we’re off to Harpoon, and there’s this little glimmer in his eye, and we know he’s going to come, too. And low and behold—he shows up 12 min after we did, after he finished up his lunch. They have like 8 different beers on tap, including this massively potent Leviathan Imperial IPA and the Leviathan Pilsner. Now I’m into hoppy beers, but the Imperial IPA just numbed my tastebuds, it was so strong! Something like 9% alcohol. We only had small samples in the hour-long tour, but it was fun nonetheless.

Time for a Harpoon? Methinks: yes!

Ode to Harpoon!

Next, it was off to the ICA, or the Institute of Contemporary Art, and while we didn’t go to see the Shepherd Fairey exhibit (you can see the image of Andre the Giant’s face at the top of the structure), we did admire the architecture.

Well, Diane and Mike did, while I tried to carry my own throughout the conversation. E.g., “What is a cantilever?” Well, besides Frank Lloyd Wright’s famous FallingWater, the ICA structure is cantileverers on crack. Here is an example:

THe overhang is the cantilevered part, and you can see the Puma City building in the distance.

Next it was off to Puma City, where they set up a warehouse structure with a shop, a bar, and they’re co-sponsoring the Volvo Ocean races or whatever it’s called. Anyway, it was kind of cool.

I’m on a boat! (What?)

Cantilevers!

Legoland. This is about when Mike and Diane started using their robotic voices. In the distant future. In the year 2000. Robot solo: 011100000….

This was unfortunately the nasty-ass beer they had on offering at Puma City. It tasted like Natty Light. However, Diane and Mike were led to buy this beer because at the bar was an employee of the Brewery (Narragansett is based in Rochester, NY and has the most unpronunceable name ever.)

Then we headed to Bukowski’s Tavern, because Diane has been intrigued by the Dead Authors’ club they have there (it’s essentially a drinking challenge, and the spoils include getting to have drink from a stein with the name of your favorite dead author on it). But we were so dead tired from the day! Drinking early in the day, walking around in the hot sun, and doing more beer sampling leaves one pretty tired. So Diane and I headed home to powernap, before heading to what we thought for sure was going to be an awkward house party. It was this random guy I met at this space prom party awhile back, who asked for my email to fwd me an article. Which he sent, and continued a little email dialogue sending other articles my way. I didn’t quite understand what his M.O. was. In NY, it would definitely mean, ohmigod, he’s so into you. But in Boston, people don’t seem to operate that way. It’s like, oh, let’s be friends. It’s like college all over again. Plus this guy was a bit much, emailing and facebooking me before I even responded to him. Overload! He invited me to a party last wknd which I couldn’t make, then invited me to another one. I could barely remember what he even looked like.

So we head to this party in Cambridgeport, near running club, and it is dorktastic. Well, err… emphasis on the dork part. Actually, it’s just straight-up dorky. Diane’s gay-dar was completely off. SHe pegged one guy as being straight, until his tall, also similarly straight-reading boyfriend came up to him and kissed him smack on the lips. There was this small, beefy-looking guy that Diane said, “ohmigod, he’s totally gay,” until he told us something or other about his first girlfriend.

Diane at one point gets cornered by this guy who actually had the potential to be really cute. Although he was wearing a fake parrot clipped to his shoulder, along with a plastic swash-buckling sword. And no, it was NOT a theme party! And when I tell him Diane’s an architect, he’s like OHMIGOD, I LOVE architects! That’s why you have such great style! he said, pointing to her glasses. So I thought I’d leave them alone for awhile, not knowing that he was so socially RETARDED! Diane can fill in the blanks about their convo in the Comments section.

Because while she was talking to the pirate guy (again, NOT a theme party), the guy who invited me was doing a drive-by hello before being surrounded by a bevy of Deshi girls. That’s fine; I mean, he was the co-host, and he had to attend to everyone. I just couldn’t understand why he was so all about the follow-up after I talked to him for all of 20 min at a party a month ago; I mean, it was a bit much (responding to my emails within twenty min, even though it’d take me 3 days to get back to him) …AND I didn’t remember him being that cute. I’m thinking to myself, why’s this guy so persistent? But then when we got to the party, I was like, oh wait, he actually IS kind of attractive. But then he’s all, let me talk to you for all of 5 seconds. Diane and I came to the conclusion that he’s just a networker. And again, just as Diane was baffled by the straight or gay question, I’m baffled by the are-they-interested-or-just-being-friends scenario.

Diane manages to look both hipster and Banana Republican at the same time.

So I thought I looked like hot sh*t that night, but now I realized I just looked pregnant = (.

This way for Part III…