Clareified

Alexander and I impatiently await the 2011-2012 Stanley Cup winning New York Rangers season. #shutit.

O_O

His name is Max and it was his birthday! See what I did there?

Whoa…whoa…whoa.

That title started out all fine and good but then took a terrible, nasty turn into hatetown. What is up with THAT? (Stop hate criming yourself! Stop hate criming yourself!)

Again, why am I so weird?!

It’s the weekend! Clearly this mini-vacation is most certainly in order.
Wheee!

Have a good one folks and Happy Father’s Day to all the dads in the Clareiverse:

1. Making up words should be encouraged, especially if it’s quite clear what you mean when you use it AND it’s equally clear you aren’t just thinking of another word. I call that the Palin clause.

2. In deciding whether to watch the Mets game or the Stanley Cup Finals, it dawned on me that my watching either will have no effect on the outcome of either. Then I began to wonder what the point of watching any sporting ever is and decided to blog instead.

3. No one ever tells me the random things they remember about me, clearly this is a weird thing to do and I should stop.

4. I think it’s funny when I use mathematical terms for narrational purposes, but others assume that they have mathematical meaning. It reminds me of the time a man at the Borgata got all mad that his flush had been beaten by a higher flush in two pots less than fifteen minutes. After the second loss, he angrily pushes his chair away from the table and yells “what are the odds of two flush over flush hands in one orbit?” And when someone unhelpfully answered “7:1.” He goes “Huh? What are you talking about?”

5. Luther Vandross was a good singer. He should have had a bigger career. No pun intended.

6. I have a weird callous on my right hand. Like super weird. It kind of has a face.

7. It’s good to have people that you’re never too drunk to text.
7a. It’s good that when you’re drunk you know who those people are.
7b. Cellphones have no place in bars.

8. Now I’m just rambling.

9. That’s right. Thoughts prior to number 8 were NOT rambles. Ramblings.

10. No, YOU’RE WEIRD! #rude

I find this “rooting for Boston” thing very off putting. And it’s causing disturbing dreams. I can’t wait for tomorrow when I can go back to hating all things Boston like a good New York born Yale grad should.

I will say, if they lose tonight, it will verify my deep rooted suspicions of Boston’s suckingness.

Who wants to contribute $51 to this cause in my name?

*whistles*

Football player saves drowning boy.

So..yay…great…but then:

The 27-year-old tight end was attending a pool party over the weekend when fellow Americus native Anne Moore said her son Bryson began drowning.

Moore told the Times-Recorder the 6-foot-8, 264-pound tight end was the only guest at the party who knew how to swim.

How’s about *before* you get the house with a pool AND invite all your friends AND their children, YOU LEARN TO SWIM?!

In other news, who wants to join me for my helicopter birthday soiree?

O_O

Why am I looking into bouncey house rentals in Brooklyn for my thirtieth (shut it) birthday party?

Petitedov: Should I bring cupcakes or are we doing no sugar stuff?
Me: Dawn 2 is making a cake!
Petitedov: So, that’s a yes.
Me: Exactly.
—————————————————————

Petitedov: Why isn’t Vinnay here?! He keeps promising me we’re going to hang out…oh…um…are you still friends with him?

Me: (looks at calendar)

So a few weeks ago both Pearatty and F-train came out to Brooklyn to see me. Or for Kaz and Tito’s wedding…one or the other.

I’ve never had two guests at once before! It was very exciting. There were daily feats of strength to see who would get the real bed…Pearatty won all of them. Though F-train put in a very impressive effort washing all of the windows in my apartment! I’m not kidding! He totally did! Although, he lost the bed because I wasn’t there to see him do it…or make the youtube video of him in cutoff jean shorts doing it… Why am I so weird?

Anyway, the first morning I made coffee for everyone because I know how to do that now! The second morning Pearatty was all up and sitting in my livingroom all coffee-less and I asked why she didn’t just make herself some, and she goes “Oh…um…you make it so well, I didn’t want to mess it up.”

This response made me very suspicious. As wonderful as my coffee is, her fancy Phoenix coffee is a gagillion times better.

Sure enough, today I was greeted by my doorman (who, I swear, thinks I am so sad waiting for packages…which, um…I totally am) goes “You have packages today!” And then he pats me pitifully on the head.

I waited a whole seven minutes before tearing them open to see what the birthday fairy sent me aaannndddd….

TA-DA:

PEARATTY SENT ME HER FANCY PHOENIX COFFEE MAKING SYSTEM!

WHEEE…so…um…where does one pick coffee beans? Grow? Buy?