lesson #1: the el stops west of 30th only take exact change, fool.
lesson #2: you've just got to let things thaw on their own. no rushing with the microwave.
lesson #3: ninja ski thugs don't wear sunday pants.

how about a weekend update?

you might remember it was bucketing friday - the right weather to dash (splash) home after a fairly interminable film class (also, good songsmithing) and cook up a nice comfy shepherd's pie to share with the friends of moment (the one with whom i've been bedtime-reading a.s.o.u.e.; the sicko who rocks our collective world.) through puddles again to bringing up baby, which was as hilarious and even sillier than i expected, and maybe even more fun for the people who knew the jokes beforehand. when i got home from that (after a stop at lodge 6, where the cider had been stolen), lo(be) and da(da) were still there, so we had some oh hell with our "standard issue" sundae-bar cookies.

laura and i wrestled with the kitchen a fair amount saturday morning (we emerged somewhat victorious, though we bloodied well over a dozen implements trying to improvise raspberry sauce), but despatched the timesmag acrostic rather more handily. i did the normal things (reading about cathedrals, devising subject lines) and then made a fair go of sabotaging the morning's baking. what emerged was a spirally x-mas-ort version of the chocolate vinegar cake, with 21 red hots and a candy cane which after several attempts was set aflame for birthdave mcc at his non-surprise (?) party.

which was swell: dave moore came up with the brilliant idea of playing musical chairs, which nullified the shortcomings of djing through the olde club system player (one deck = no transitions, but with stop/start you don't have to worry about that.) so that turned out to be a pitch perfect dance party, with paul's boutique to wrap it. the "girls girls girls" party at beta ro nu was also nice (though not quite with my mood.) they weren't kidding about the girls.

up early today and went into the city to meet matthew stark for brunch at a trinibagan hole-in-the-wall (curry fish platter with rice+peas and more, rotis, ginger beer + awesome reggae = mmmm) and bumming around 52nd street (his haggling skillz brought us an average of $2 saving per transaction.) then dashed eastward to catch triplets of belleville at the bourse. hooray for that! charmant! fantastique! you should all go see it, fuh real. i might go with you too, because i missed the beginning (what's with the like fifteen-minute ticket line? they need to hire someone more to work the 2:00 sunday box office shift.) but yeah, it was everything you hoped it would be (except, too short…) then: a.k.a. (whose used section always seems to have exactly one thing i want. but yo, phindie costs a dollar now? what up?), and market (missed the 4: b/c i thought it was at :26 not :17, so i used the time to buy blanks and read "rain.") it felt good to be spending cash.

since then, there was co-op and mccabe (wearing headphones without listening to anything through them is the new wearing headphones) and bridge or rather whist, and fugue alone.

circumstances made me what i am