happy new year, you're my only vice
christmas was about as perfect as could be. new york was even better--i missed seeing almost everyone i meant to see, which is kind of impressive, but i spent massive amounts of time with jamilah, gcv, and the lovely misses dasha and hanna (is misses the plural of miss? if so, how do you spell mrs.?). new year's eve was spent on drugs and with most of the aforementioned, laughingly distanced from the drama and the noise. it couldn't have been better. the flirting was kept to a minimum; i didn't get the drinks i tentatively planned on getting with any of the temptations i could have enumerated. that is to say, i was a good girlfriend. and it turns out that it's pretty easy, when you really like a person. who knew?
the newest tattoo hurt like a mothertrucker, and was well worth the pain. you can has pix:
please feel free to take note of the goosebumps on my arm. it was the coldest night in brooklyn and the tattoo shop believes in space heaters. by the end, i couldn't feel my hand, but my arm was not numb at all. harrumph.
the story behind it is a brief one: i love the brooklyn bridge, certainly, and new york has felt like a bridge to the possibilties of the rest of my life; too, i'm learning that not all bridges need to be burned just to see what their fire might look like. sometimes you leave a place, a person, and leave the bridge up just in case you want to come back. this is my bridge to new york. or nowhere, as you like.
the homecoming was victorious; the boyfriend picked me up in the car, the welcome-home sex was even better than i hoped. (should i have filtered this? probs.) megan comes in in an hour or so, and i'll pick her up in andrew's car and then convice her she wants nachos. i missed that girl. i missed this boy, too. he said what are you up to later? and i said hanging out with you and he said perfect. last night i said you make me happy and he said good. i tell you, for a girl who dropped the L-bomb right and left in talking about this boy, telling him he made me happy was hard. baby steps.
man. i'm hungry. i've got peanut butter, salsa, and croutons in the cupboard, and miso in the fridge. the prospects do not look good.
2008 was an incredible year, challenging in all the best ways and full of learning and laughter. i know many of you had difficult 2008s, or big changes came your way: new babies, new parts of the country, new loves. i hope that the struggles and challenges are mostly over, and that the joys of 2009, the reaping of what you've sown, are manifest and plentiful. and i hope you all have lots of sex and do lots of cuddling. that's what i plan on doing, anyway.
the newest tattoo hurt like a mothertrucker, and was well worth the pain. you can has pix:
please feel free to take note of the goosebumps on my arm. it was the coldest night in brooklyn and the tattoo shop believes in space heaters. by the end, i couldn't feel my hand, but my arm was not numb at all. harrumph.
the story behind it is a brief one: i love the brooklyn bridge, certainly, and new york has felt like a bridge to the possibilties of the rest of my life; too, i'm learning that not all bridges need to be burned just to see what their fire might look like. sometimes you leave a place, a person, and leave the bridge up just in case you want to come back. this is my bridge to new york. or nowhere, as you like.
the homecoming was victorious; the boyfriend picked me up in the car, the welcome-home sex was even better than i hoped. (should i have filtered this? probs.) megan comes in in an hour or so, and i'll pick her up in andrew's car and then convice her she wants nachos. i missed that girl. i missed this boy, too. he said what are you up to later? and i said hanging out with you and he said perfect. last night i said you make me happy and he said good. i tell you, for a girl who dropped the L-bomb right and left in talking about this boy, telling him he made me happy was hard. baby steps.
man. i'm hungry. i've got peanut butter, salsa, and croutons in the cupboard, and miso in the fridge. the prospects do not look good.
2008 was an incredible year, challenging in all the best ways and full of learning and laughter. i know many of you had difficult 2008s, or big changes came your way: new babies, new parts of the country, new loves. i hope that the struggles and challenges are mostly over, and that the joys of 2009, the reaping of what you've sown, are manifest and plentiful. and i hope you all have lots of sex and do lots of cuddling. that's what i plan on doing, anyway.